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millersfinest · 3 days ago

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can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams smut

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simpforboys · 15 hours ago

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nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

#simpforboys #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #obx #obx4 #drew starkey

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sahisan · 2 days ago

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smth about chuuya coming in his pants after being sex deprived for weeks/months is just.... ugh. nsfw obv. fem reader probs? pm member reader. kinda pathetic chuu but we love him for that. touch deprived chuu?

chuuya is a busy man. it's public knowledge—he actually manages to run the port mafia's jewelry department just perfectly starting from the age of 16 and do splendidly on solo missions, along with carrying out orders from the boss and giving orders of his own.

both of you being busy means you don't really get to see each other often, especially if you both work in the mafia. overseas missions that sometimes take more than several months to complete, nights spent in the headquarters with headaches because of the constantly incoming paperwork etcetera etcetera.

it's a lot. and it's a lot more when chuuya actually needs you. he wants so much to feel something, be it your mouth or you clenching down on him or just your hand getting him off and fuck, does he imagine it being your hand when he jerks himself off once in a while when it gets really impossible.

so once the two of you finally have some time off that you can spend at home—usually he does have a day or two off after particularly hard or long missions, just to get over the jet lag and get all the necessary paperwork prepared—chuuya doesn't necessarily pounce on you immediately after closing the front door, no. he's tired and you're tired no matter the need going through him in these moments.

he gets you both some fancy take-out, soaks his aching muscles in the bath for some time, maybe even sets up a movie or something like that on the tv so that you two can snuggle up against each other on the sofa under some blankets, and it's really not long before you're on top of him and he looks at you with this already needy and basically pleading look which screams "i missed you so much i can't hold myself back anymore please just do anything" and "please do whatever you want with me" when you just got your hands on him, your core sitting right on top of the tightness in his pants.

and it's so fucking humiliating to chuuya too, because, god, he can handle himself perfectly well without sex and he knows it, but once you're near him after some weeks/months away he's already just so painfully hard without even thinking much.

it's even worse when he ends up coming in his pants from barely a few deep kisses and grinding against you. he tries to resist it, tries grabbing onto your forearm and squeezing the hell out of a handful of your ass with another hand, but it's just inevitable when he's been so deprived of you and starved for even smallest bits of touch—not even sex, touch. chuuya swears he sees white behind his closed eyelids as he comes, and he full on moans into your mouth once he feels that his underwear is all sticky, and his breathing refuses to get back to normal for a good few minutes along with his racing heart.

he ends up laughing breathlessly once the kiss is broken, throwing his head back with his chest still rising and falling rather quickly, mumbling something about feeling like a goddamn teenager that just hit puberty and could come in his pants just from some grinding.

he's also very sensitive after his first orgasm, but that's for you to find out only once you grind down on him one more time after a few moments, kind of experimentally, and hear chuuya whine and shudder with his breath hitching and his hand coming to just plant your hips down in one place and hold them there. he already embarrassed himself enough.

or did he?

#chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya smut #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya x you #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x you

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wonderjanga · 18 hours ago

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Drugs

Marvel doesn’t like drugs. They’re like a plague. If you try even one you’ll get hooked and it’ll slowly destroy your life. That’s what an old homeless guy told Billy one time anyways. What Billy actually doesn’t like is how many of the homeless population have their hands on drugs. He’s literally grown up huddling around fires with these people. He’s doesn’t like to see them act like addicts. So, that’s why when he first became Captain Marvel, one of the first things he did was work his ass off to get drugs off the streets. Like actually. One of his first major things besides fighting his villains, was a big drug bust.

Drug Cook: *cooking*

Marvel: *leans against the table next to him*

Drug Cook: *doesn’t notice him*

Marvel: “Hey.” *picks up a chunk of meth and takes a nice big crunch out of it*

Drug Cook: *pauses at the crunch and slowly looks over to him*

Marvel: *knocks him out* “Geez, how do you just not notice that everyone around you is knocked out? Is making crystal that interesting?”

So you might be wondering, why did Billy just eat one of those? Truthfully, he himself doesn’t know either. Fear factor? Maybe. Honestly, he just did it because he could. It’s not like Marvel can be affected by drugs anyways. No like seriously, some guy once threw a kilo of crack at his face and it exploded. He was fine, but he did end up having to walk out of there looking like a crackwhore times ten.

Reporter: *runs over to him, holding mic to his face* “Captain Marvel- oh my god.”

Marvel: *entire upper body is covered in crack cocaine* “Miss, I gonna have to ask you to take a whole step back because every single individual little white speck of powder on me is crack so if you inhale this, you will be inhaling cocaine.”

Reporter: *shares a speechless look with the camera man and takes a couple steps back*

Assistant: *runs over using his shirt of cover his nose and mouth to give Marvel a mic so they can still conduct the interview*

Crack-Covered Marvel became a meme. Why? Because he looked like he literally wanted to be anywhere but there. He was also covered in cocaine so that too. Also, a lot of people were wondering how he went through the entire interview without tweaking in the slightest. This made the JL reconsider asking him to be a member.

Flash: “You don’t just take what looks like a kilo of cocaine to the face and shrug it off. What if he’s like that because he built up a tolerance??

Batman: “It’s been well established he isn’t a human being. Perhaps his species isn’t affected by the drug the game way humans are.”

Supes: “Do you think he might be Kryptonian?” *sounds excited*

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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saltymarshmall0w · 2 days ago

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Another Dp x DC prompt inspired by a Danny Phantom episode.

Identity Crisis- The episode where Danny flies through one of his parent's inventions (A dream catcher, but let's all replace that little detail with a net or a strainer) and separates into Phantom and Fenton. Fenton is glad to give up being a hero and be lazy with his friends while Phantom turns into the embodiment of a heroic archetype.

----

There was an empty, gaping chasm in him nestled somewhere between his spotty memory and the apathy that constantly settled over his brain like a weighted blanket.

He could see it in the way it felt like something was missing when he looked in the mirror.

In the way Danny enjoyed things but couldn’t list what exactly he liked.

His parents knew it too. His dad didn’t look him in the eye anymore, and his mom always made a disappointed “tsk” noise when they tested his blood to “check if his levels were going down yet” then questioned if he was using the decontamination soap. He did, even if it made his hands burn and left Danny feeling lethargic after every shower.

They moved to Gotham of all places overnight, before Danny could so much as say goodbye to his friends.

(He knew it was weird. He didn’t even remember packing his stuff—but he didn’t have to do the work so, whatever)

They locked him in the house all day as if he would go out on the streets and fight crime while they weren’t looking or something. They were being controlling freaks!

(He should probably run away. It was obvious, even to him, that he was being abused… but that sounded like a lot of effort and not all that fun, so he’d rather just stay in his comfy bed and watch tiktok. He could ignore the sounds coming from the basement until he was 18.)

Uncle Vlad would occasionally stop by to say thinly veiled threats and act all weird– once or twice asking about “Phantom” or a “core” whatever that meant. It was easier to just let Vlad send him to a rich-people school and drag him to a couple galas. At least he was actually getting out of the house.

Whatever was going on with Danny was probably something he should be concerned about. He should go to a doctor, or the police, or his obviously-a-vigilante classmate for help rather than attempting to create half-thought out inventions to solve a problem he couldn’t even describe that he inevitably would forget about in favor of watching tiktok.

According to google, the headaches, the tiredness, the dry skin, the disorientation- it all pointed toward dehydration. So, he was just overreacted anyway and should probably just drink more water.

Whatever, Doomed came out with a mobile version for phones so, he’s way more interested in that anyway.

Basically, Human!Danny does not remember anything to do with Phantom and he’s missing a lot of his key components.

lots of procrastinating, lots of apathy and emotions are extremely dull.

He doesn’t realize how much he misses his friends or his obsessions unless they’re directly in front of him.

I think it would be a fun writing exercise, questioning how Danny would act without Phantom based on the events in Identity Crisis.

-Emotional incompetence. (He’s awful at identifying how he feels about things)

-Shameless Dopamine-seeking behavior.

-Doing things without thinking of the consequences.

-A completely gray moral compass

Meanwhile, with Phantom—There are different levels of messed up we could take this.

After Jack and Maddie separated Phantom from Fenton, they tried their best to get their son (who, thankfully, doesn’t remember being possessed for nearly a year) to decontaminate fully by moving to Gotham, while keeping their subject in the lab so they could keep running tests on it.

Unfortunately, the ectoplasm levels in Danny’s blood aren’t going down, despite weekly tests.

Last night, Danny had a nightmare where his parents cut him open.

It was only a nightmare, of course. His parents were inventors. They specialized in making every-day objects into the shape of his dad’s face; they didn’t work in biology.

Still, the phantom pain of his mom snapping his ribcage open was too realistic, and he still didn’t have an explanation for the surgical scars he kept finding on his body.

Jack and Maddie separated Phantom and Fenton and decided it was time they gave up ghost hunting for the safety of their son. So, they sold the ghost to the GIW and used the funds to move to Gotham, the city with the least amount of ambient ectoplasm in hopes to fully decontaminate their son.

Phantom is in the hands of the GIW until Fenton comes across him (probably due to Bat-related shenanigans) and instantly goes “Oh, shit. That’s my soul. I kinda need that back.”

-I’d be kinda funny if at this point the bats all know Danny as an extremely relaxed civilian who’s smart and figured out all their identities, yes, but also has zero interest in vigilantism.

-They’re going to get the “soul” thing Danny was freaking out about back Asap but they need to do a bit of reconnaissance first and–

- Oh—

-Danny’s mission-impossible-ing his way into the highly secure government base.

-and he’s, like, GOOD at it. WTF

Phantom, separated from his human half, turns into Little Baby Man. And just tries his darndest as a tiny little cat-possum-snake thing to find his human half… and protect everyone he sees… and collect shiny things. Okay! It’s not his fault he keeps getting distracted!

Until!! He found his human!! Well, it wasn’t actually his human, but Phantom could tell his human had been around this human. Besides, he sure did like this human. And the human said he was cute. Which actually made him explode with happiness!!

(The Waynes adopt little Baby Man, thinking he’s just a really weird alien cat)

So, now for the DC part of this I’m gonna throw some ideas out there for some interactions and you can decide if you like ‘em or not. I basically just really liked the idea of Danny finding out his classmate’s/friend’s secret identity and just… being completely apathetic to it.

I really flip flopped on his Designated Gotham Bf being either Tim or Damian, bc i think both would have a really interesting dynamic with a really apathetic yet insanely smart Danny, especially if you throw in Damian adopting LBM Phantom.

You, (yes, You! The reader!) can take this as whatever Wayne child you chose and I’ll just refer to them as Robin from now on.

Each of these separated bits are just a different new way I thought an identity reveal would happen, none of them are connected.

*Danny, standing way too close to an active rouge attack, watching Robin and Batman fighting*: You know… that guy throwing around the stylized R’s around looks kinda like that cute guy from physics.

Goon, currently trying to take Danny hostage: Yeah, whatever kid.

Robin: Hey, so, I know the school is under attack right now, but I really need something from my locker so–

Danny *The new kid who so far has only slept in class*: Dude, I know you’re Robin. It’s, like, really obvious. Just go, I’ll cover for you.

(while Fenton would not be inclined to help in a rouge attack, he still has the overconfidence of a super-powered being and some of the instincts that were ingrained into him after hundreds of fights)

Robin: Hey, Kid-I-don’t-know! This is an active gunfight! You should run!

Danny: Don’t worry Robin, there are no civilians around! I have time to wait around so when you’re done kicking ass we can get back to our group project. *thumbs up*

Robin: B, this is my friend, Danny. Please be nice to him.

Danny: Hey Batman. Rad.

Bruce: Hrm

Robin: *spluttering* Pfft- Bruce- Bruce isn’t Batman! Haha! What makes you think that?

Danny:

Danny: Wait– We’re friends?

Robin *very angsty moment*: Danny, I’m sorry. I only befriended you because I thought your parents were shady and wanted to investigate. The truth is… I’m Robin.

Danny *This is a total shock to him. He had no idea. He should probably react appropriately*: If I had a nickel for every time I dated a vigilante’s civilian identity I would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

Robin: Are you seriously quoting Phineas and Ferb right now??

Robin: Wait– which vigilante have you dated before?

Robin: Danny? You can’t just leave me hanging, Danny.

Robin: Was it superboy? Because- Danny! I’m way cooler than superboy

—

Alternatively, consider the shift in dynamics when Danny is back “complete” and can finally feel regular emotions again.

Like shame, for example.

Robin: Hey :)

Danny: *Remembers anything he did as LBM and calmly moves to the floor so he can curl up and die of embarrassment*

Robin: ??? Are you okay?

Robin *bats his pretty eyes*: So? You and Phantom are finally back together again. How do you feel?

Danny *hasn’t noticed his Paulina-level attraction or Sam-level crush on Robin before*: Bisexual.

Misc:

Phantom: *growling at a mirror and repeatedly trying to attack it*

Robin: Yeah, we don’t really know what it is, but it’s cute.

Robin: This is weird, He doesn’t usually warm up to people so quickly. Usually he’s really protective.

Danny *completely calmly*: Oh, yeah. That's probably because it’s my soul.

Bruce: Listen, I know you like my son-

Danny: Woah, hold on. Yeah, Robin is pretty great. Dopamine goes brrr around him, but I don’t have a crush on him or anything.

Bruce: *gestures to Robin on the other side of the room, where Phantom is repeatedly giving Robin butterfly kisses and nuzzling into him*

Danny: ooh.

Anyway! if you're at all inspired by this and write something the only requirement is that you have to tell me so I can read it too :) otherwise, go crazy!

#The longer you read this post the more it falls apart #I spent really long trying to put this idea on a page correctly and I still have so many ideas I didn't even put in #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #danny phantom #batfam #danny fenton #lbm danny #little baby man #dp x dc au

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deerspherestudios · 13 hours ago

Note

Theory kind of? Or at least a possible explanation for why Mychael is hostile to his own species.

It's both instinctual and personal.

Mushrooms do three things well:

1. Stay in place.

2. Eat a lot.

3. Multiply.

We don't know a lot about #3 yet, but throughout the game #1 and #2 have been stressed to be something Mychael cares about deeply.

1. His cabin. A place he worked very hard to call him home after all these long years. His safe space. "Finally permanent, for once."

2. Him cooking. His cooking has always been something I loved about him, and he clearly takes pride in it as well (as he should,) and the game makes it a point to show how good at it he is. And of course, how much he enjoys eating.

When different mushroom species interact, sometimes it can lead to chemical warfare where one species releases toxins that are harmful to the other, so they could have as much nutrients and territory as possible without competition.

Mychael is a mushroom, somehow. So it wouldn't be too big of a stretch to say he's got the instincts of one.

So imagine your instincts telling you to stay rooted in one place, but you're forced to run, hide, and flee for your life. Imagine they tell you to eat, but due to all the running, you've got to get by just on what you can scavange up. How many years has he spent like that? Decades, maybe? More?

Then he finally had it. He had a place to call his own, a safe harbor he poured blood, sweat, and tears to. In this harbor, he's free to do what he wants, eat what he wants. He finally started to live rather than just survive.

But then there are the rival mushrooms, coming into HIS home, HIS part of the forest, threatening HIS livelihood (somehow? Maybe?) Which he's spent so long trying to achieve. I'd hate them, too.

For Mychael, it isn't just instinctual. It's personal. We've only seen him react to the mushroom ring, though. How bad would he react if it was another grown member of his species like him?

He calls them an "invasive species," but would that mean he is as well? They're clearly related somehow.

He has this "Will of the forest" attitude about him, but as a mushroom (or... plant or,,,, something) himself, wouldn't he be a part of that will? There's a clear distinction between himself and the forest, as the forest provides, and he consumes.

🍄🍄🍄!

#mushroom oasis vn #mushroom musings #i ALMOST missed posting this one #this was wonderful to read im gnawing on your ask frfr #your reasonings are v compelling!!! <3 #thank you for sharing!!!

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

I 100% believe this, I feel like Pepper would be a great friend (even though she's always busy)

"We're putting together an incredible team," she begins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been reaching out to some of the brightest minds in politics, economics, and social justice. We have former White House staffers, grassroots organizers, and even a few unexpected faces from the private sector who are eager to contribute their expertise."

Whatever Pepper does, she does it right and all in

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Already an iconic team

“Put me to work wherever you need me!” “I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.” “Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!” Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs. “Future First Lady.”

Well that's certainly a special role 😅

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?" Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

She's like: I already thought this all through, no worries

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

But she certainly does have great arguments 🤷🏻‍♀️ if someone would get me, a person that doesn't believe to much into marriage, to marry a person for strategic purposes it would certainly be Pepper 😅

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?” Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

Hahahah😂

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.” “I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.” His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

Meeting Sam first is probably even better, he is a great wingman 😉

In return, your smile becomes a little warmer and easier. “I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.” Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

This is good sign

"It's part of the package," Sam agrees. "But so is having a team of people who have your back, no matter what." He leans forward, his eyes meeting yours intently. "I want you to know that includes me. We're not just colleagues in this; we're family."

🥹🥹🥹

Sam leans back in his chair, considering your question carefully. "Crazy? Maybe," he admits with a small smile. "But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

Well, fair 😅

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?" "Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.” You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

🤭🤭🤭

As Sam talks, you find yourself leaning in, captivated by these glimpses of reality, getting to know more about the man behind the myth. And even if the next twenty-four hours will be a whirlwind of you choosing and getting fitted for your wedding dress; interviewing candidates that have been vetted for your personal staff - assistant, pr strategist, stylist, initiative director; and a bachelorette party; you feel like you’ll be able to face it all with the bit of reassurance you’ve gained by spending this time with Sam.

Getting a pep talk by Sam Wilson, the Captain America does just that 👏🏻

Red, White & True: Manhattan & Brooklyn (1/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson Word Count: 4k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Pepper Potts has persuaded Steve Rogers to step up and help again - but this time in a battle to The White House. She invites you to consider a key position.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Prologue | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[MAY 15 - Manhattan, New York]

You try not to hold still while you wait in the lobby, but you’re nervous and the longer you sit, the more difficult it is to resist drumming your fingers, tapping your foot, jiggling your right leg as it’s crossed over your left, or even just chewing on your bottom lip.

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. The lobby of Stark Industries is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern design. The large windows let in plenty of natural light, making the space feel open and inviting despite its corporate purpose.

Your mind wanders back to your college days when you’d walked into a different Stark Industries lobby for the first time, a hopeful intern wanting to make a difference at the then-new Stark Foundation office. Pepper had been very involved in building the Foundation at the time, and had become a key mentor and - as the years passed and you left Stark Industries - a dear friend. She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

Back then, she’d become like the older sister you never had, seeing you through some of the difficult years figuring out how to be a real adult. Now, here you are, waiting to potentially join a presidential campaign she’s orchestrating for none other than Steve Rogers.

The receptionist's voice startles you out of your reverie. "Ms. Potts will see you now."

You stand, smoothing down your carefully chosen outfit - professional, but not stuffy. As you follow the receptionist down the hallway, your mind races with possibilities. What position could Pepper have in mind for you? Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

As you approach Pepper's office, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. The door opens, and there she is - Pepper Potts, looking as poised and confident as ever in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you," she says, embracing you in a quick hug. "Come in, please."

You step into her spacious office, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Pepper gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from her desk, and you sit, trying to keep your nerves in check.

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," Pepper begins. "I know it's been a few years since we’ve been able to catch up - even before the Blip.”

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in. “I was happy to come! And of course I don’t mind a trip on the Stark Industries dime,” you say with a grin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Pepper settles into her chair, folding her hands on the desk. "So, I know I told you we’re putting together the campaign team for Rogers for America, but I'm sure you're wondering more specifically why I called you here."

You nod, leaning forward in your chair, eager to hear Pepper’s vision.

You are instantly intrigued, trying to imagine the caliber of people she's describing. Your mind races with possibilities - perhaps that brilliant campaign manager who orchestrated the upset victory in the last Senate race, or the economist whose revolutionary ideas about sustainable development have been making waves in academic circles.

"We've got strategists who are anticipating every move our opponents might make," Pepper continues, "and communications experts who can craft messages that will resonate with voters across the political spectrum.”

You listen intently, trying to pinpoint where you might fit into this powerhouse group.

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Spider-Man.

Pepper leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "But here's the thing - we're not just assembling a team of political operatives and policy experts. We need people who understand the heart of what we're trying to do, who can see the bigger picture and help keep us grounded in our core values."

Your heart begins to race as you start to realize where this might be going.

"That's where you come in," Pepper says, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I've watched your career over the years, how you've navigated the non-profit world, building coalitions and making real change happen. You have a gift for bringing people together, for seeing connections that others miss. Your experience gives you a unique perspective that we desperately need."

Your heart races as you process her words. You had assumed you might be offered some kind of advisory role, perhaps in fundraising or event planning. Maybe even appearance management or offering occasional input on strategy. But from Pepper's tone, it sounds like she has something more substantial in mind.

"Where do you see me on this team?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this," Pepper continues, her voice filled with conviction. “You know we’re doing something unconventional. Did you read the presidential plan?”

You nod. Steve’s bid for President of the United States was still technically not public knowledge. You had signed an NDA - being told only that you were receiving a proposal Pepper wanted your input and consultation on, with potential to join the team if you supported the initiative, and just silence if you didn’t.

“It’s bold, idealistic, aspirational; but it’s also unapologetic, has clear plans of action, and could be transformational in ways we haven’t seen in living memory,” you give your assessment.

“And it’s something you could see yourself being a part of?”

You take a deep breath, but smile genuinely. “I couldn’t sleep the first night after you sent it over. I couldn’t stop reading, hoping, re-reading, imagining possibilities!”

“Good,” Pepper responds. “Perfect.”

“Put me to work wherever you need me!”

“I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.”

“Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!”

Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Future First Lady.”

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

"What?" you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Pepper, I... I don't understand. First Lady? But that would mean..."

Pepper holds up a hand, her expression serious. "We're not just running a campaign here. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country. Steve is an incredible man, and he needs a partner who understands the complexities of modern America, not just a trophy wife, someone who can connect with people from all walks of life."

You shake your head, still reeling. "But I'm not - I mean, Steve and I aren't even - we've never even met!"

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

Pepper leans back in her chair, her expression at least revealing some concern over your reaction. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?"

Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

But you're on a roll now, your initial shock giving way to indignation. "Explain what? How you thought it was okay to offer me a position that requires me to be married to a stranger? Use me to score points?”

"I understand your reaction," Pepper says calmly, "but please, hear me out. This isn't about scoring political points or creating some sham marriage. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Go on," you say, your voice tight, “because you’re still trotting out marriage.”

"We can’t outright ignore traditional expectations and polling numbers. If Steve were running as the nominee for either of the major parties, we could probably win without him being married, but since he’s running as an independent, he needs a wife. That being said, we want to move away from the traditional concept of the First Lady as just the President's wife," Pepper explains. "The vision is a First Partnership. Two people who work together. There’ve been a few First Ladies who have done more with their platform and position, and that’s what we would want for you, too.”

You chew on your lip, not persuaded yet, but a little less angry.

You open your mouth to protest, but Pepper raises her hand to stop you.

“You and Steve don’t have to put on a show and be madly in love - that’s not what I want, that’s not what he wants or expects either.”

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?”

Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

“But you’re telling me he did agree?”

Pepper nods. “He did.”

You unconsciously rub the empty space on your left ring finger. “Couldn’t we just get engaged and leave the question of a marriage for whether or not he wins?”

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

“And…?” You raise your eyes expectantly.

“The public would rake us over the coals and accuse us of only doing it as a publicity stunt. The campaign would become a gossip column on your relationship status and nothing more.”

“But isn’t it a publicity stunt?”

“We can spin a marriage that seems to appear out of nowhere. Steve’s always been a private person when it comes to his personal life. We will tell people you met through me - which is true. I thought you were well-suited for each other - which I do. When people asked why the wedding just before announcing his bid for the presidency, we tell them you two didn’t want your relationship status to become the big question on everyone’s minds so they can focus on the platforms and policies instead and that every marriage takes work regardless of the length of the courtship.”

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything Pepper has said. The idea of marrying someone you've never met, let alone becoming the First Lady of the United States, seems utterly surreal. And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

"I need some time to think about this," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepper nods understandingly. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. But I want you to know that I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you were perfect for this role. Not just as a political partner, but as someone who could genuinely connect with Steve."

You raise an eyebrow. "You really think we'd be well-suited?"

"I do," Pepper says with confidence and warmth.

You rub your ring finger again, but this time you see Pepper’s eyes drop to watch your unconscious action, and you quickly stop. Her eyes, when you meet them again, are full of sympathy. You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

She can read that in your tight-lipped smile.

So instead she says, “I can give you three days to think it over.”

You sigh and rise from your seat to go. “I don’t know if that’s long enough, but if you give me three days or three weeks, I don’t think it will change my decision I’ll land on. Give me the night to sleep on it. I think I’ll know by tomorrow morning.”

[JUNE 4 - Brooklyn, New York]

Three weeks later, your life has been packed up and put in a truck on its way to the new brownstone in Brooklyn that’s been acquired for you and Steve to move into, and you’re sitting at a table in a café a few blocks away, waiting to meet your future husband for the first time over breakfast. Every time the bell rings over the door, you dart your head to see if it’s him, but he’s evidently running late.

As you wait, checking to see if you have any messages on your phone, the bell over the door chimes once more. This time, when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. A tall, athletic man with dark skin and an easy smile has entered the café. You recognize him immediately as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Your heart sinks a little as you realize Steve isn't with him.

Sam spots you and makes his way over, his stride confident but casual. As he approaches, you notice the way his eyes scan the room, a habit born from years of military training and superhero work. He's dressed in civilian clothes - a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt and jeans - but there's no mistaking the aura of strength and capability that surrounds him.

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, forcing a smile, and shake his hand. "Of course. I understand.” You motion toward the chair across the table from you, inviting him to sit. “I know campaign prep must keep him incredibly busy."

Ever since you’d accepted the proposition to marry Steve Rogers and join him on the campaign trail to the White House, your own life had turned upside down, giving you hardly any time to breathe, and you’d been told this was only a mild version of what your own schedule was going to look like once Steve formally announced.

“Former President Bartlet agreed to meet with him, and the schedules ended up aligning this morning for Steve to go up to New Hampshire for a sit down,” Sam explains.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.”

His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

“Just promise me he’ll actually be at the ceremony tomorrow?” you ask. Your tone is light, but Sam calls your bluff.

His laughter fades, replaced by a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep him away. Or androids. Or aliens. Or wizards. Or..." He trails off, realizing he might be overdoing it. "You get the idea."

You nod, appreciating Sam's attempt at humor. "I hope so. It would be pretty awkward to explain to the press why the groom was a no-show at his own wedding."

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I suppose I should get used to schedule changes and last-minute adjustments," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

His words touch you deeply, and you feel a bloom of warmth in your chest, the firs time you’ve felt grounded since you agreed to do this. "Thank you, Sam," you manage to say. "That means a lot."

The waitress approaches, he orders coffee, and you both order breakfast.

As she walks away, you take a sip of the drink you’d ordered while you were waiting before, mulling over Sam's words. "Can I ask you something, Sam? You know Steve better than almost anyone. Do you think...?”

You hesitate, uncertain if you should voice your doubts to Sam. But his open, friendly demeanor encourages you to continue, and you’re going to need to learn to trust this new circle of people you’ll be surrounded with.

"Do you think this is crazy?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Marrying someone I've never even met, maybe becoming First Lady... it all feels so surreal."

You can't help but chuckle at that, some of the tension easing from your shoulders.

"Look," Sam continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy. The scrutiny, the pressure, the constant demands on your time and energy - it's going to be a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it's Steve. And from what I've heard about you, I think you're up for the challenge, too."

Sam pauses as the waitress returns with your breakfasts and his coffee. Once she's gone, he continues, "Steve doesn't do anything halfway. When he commits to something, he's all in. And he's committed to this - to you, to this campaign, to trying to make a real difference."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. "And what about... us? Steve and me, I mean. Do you think we can make this work? Not just for the campaign, but as a real partnership?"

Sam's eyes soften. "Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

You absorb this information, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity about your future husband. "I appreciate your honesty, Sam," you say softly. "I guess we'll both be navigating uncharted waters."

Sam nods, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "True, but you won't be doing it alone. Not only do you have the support of the team, but I think you and Steve might surprise yourselves. You both have a strong sense of purpose, a desire to help others. That's a solid foundation to build on."

You pick at your breakfast, mulling over Sam's words. "I just hope we can find some common ground beyond the campaign," you admit.

Sam leans in, his expression earnest. "Like I said, when Steve commits to something, he gives it his all. That includes relationships. He may be reserved at first, but once he lets you in, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and support."

You nod, feeling a bit more reassured. "I appreciate that. I’m not some hopeless romantic, I’m not looking to be swept off my feet, but I just hope we can find some chemistry, some spark beyond just being political partners."

Sam chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Steve might be from the 1940s, but he's still a red-blooded man. And you," he gestures at you with his fork, "are definitely his type."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?"

"Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “

Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Sam shakes his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Where's the fun if I spoil all the surprises?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, keep your secrets. But seriously, Sam, thank you. For breakfast, for the pep talk, for everything. I'm really glad I got to meet you before tomorrow."

"Me too," Sam says, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected partnerships."

You clink your own mug against his, feeling a surge of warmth and camaraderie. As you finish your breakfast, the conversation flows easily between you and Sam. He regales you with stories of his adventures with Steve, carefully omitting any classified details but painting a vivid picture of the man you're about to marry.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

next part: LAS VEGAS & CLEVELAND

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week, usually posted on Fridays.

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euphorix-moon · 1 day ago

Text

Love Maze

Vi x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Helping Vi realize that she can break out of this loop that's she's in

Warning: Slightly Angsty and slightly out of character

A/n: Arcane season 2 just came out and i'm still reeling from everything, just had to make this cause i was inspired by episode 3 it broke my CaitVi heart

It was just one of those days,

There weren't many days where you would get the house all to yourself to enjoy so you didn't waste the chance to relax when your roommate said she was going out to run some errands.

You were currently enjoying your day re-reading through your favorite book series until you were disturbed by a sudden knock at the door.

You skeptical and slightly annoyed you went to go answer the door. Opening the door is when you came face to face with the pink-haired woman you came to know as Vi. She almost looked slightly surprised to see you at the door but kept her composure

"Is she here ? " Vi asked worriedly

"Hi nice to see you too, but unfortunately your girlfriend isn't here, she went out to do some stuff" you replied

She lightly sighs before saying, "Well if that's the case then I guess I'll wait for her till she gets back. That's fine with you, right ?" She says walking through the door before you can get a response out. You sigh closing the door behind you knowing she would stay and wait either way.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you guys so you took it upon yourself to try and get a conversation going.

"So....what brings you here ?..Is it the same issue again ?"

Vi glares at you but after some time does lightly nods her head to confirm your suspicions. You kept quiet lightly sighing to yourself.

The cycle had become almost predictable at this point: a fight would ignite, Caitlyn would storm off ghosting Vi, and then, a few days later, Vi would return, offering half-hearted apologies that seemed to smooth things over just enough to delay the inevitable crash. Caitlyn never seemed to learn, and neither did Vi. But the truth was, they both were just playing the same tired game, and you wanted all this nonsense to come to an end once and for all.

Here,” you said, slipping behind the counter to make a couple of drinks. “Let’s take the edge off. I’m sure you could use something stronger than water right now.”

Vi didn't argue. She sank down onto the couch, taking a deep breath, clearly exhausted from everything. As you handed her the glass, you kept your tone light, almost casual. "So, how's work? How’s your family? Anything to distract you from… well, everything?"

She gave a weak laugh, taking a sip of her drink. "Work’s fine. Same as usual. Nothing exciting," she muttered, looking down at her hands, clearly distracted. "Family’s... okay. You know how it is, always got something goin on"

You nodded, pretending to listen, but your mind was already working. "Yeah, I get that. But seriously, when’s the last time you actually did something for you, Vi? Like, something that made you feel alive? Not just for Cait, or for your job, but for yourself?"

That was a hook. Vi wasn’t even aware of it. She leaned forward, a little too eager to talk about herself, to talk about anything that didn’t involve the draining mess she was in. She starts going into detail about the many things she's been interested in but never got the chance to due to feeling like she's alway has to balance a thousand things in her life.

"Well if I'm gonna be real honest with you Violet, it sounds like this relationship is just another thing holding you back" you say with sincerity.

"It’s just... it’s not that simple, okay? Violet shot back.

me and her have history. We’ve been through a lot together. And—" she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "Yeah, things have been tough lately. But we love each other. I know she has her issues, but I really think we can fix this. I don’t want to just... give up on everything we’ve built."

You almost rolled your eyes at the word history—as if that was supposed to make everything else okay.

"Vi," ."You’ve been ‘fixing’ things for months now. You keep telling yourself it’s just a phase, that Cait’s going to change, that things will get better. But they never do. You are stuck in a loop and you can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong."

"So, what? You want me to just leave her? After everything? You’re not even trying to help me,You’re supposed to be my friend. You should be supporting me in making this work, not... pushing me away from her!"Vi’s jaw clenched, her chest rising and falling with each breath as if she was holding back.

Her words stung just a little bit but you knew how to respond back. "I am doing this because i care enough to tell you the truth Vi, you deserve so much better than this. Don't let Caitlyn stress you out so much, especially when there's already a lot on your plate".

"You just don't get it. You don’t know what she's like when we’re together,” she says, still feeling obligated to defend her relationship.

"Maybe i don't and i might be wrong about all of this, but all I'm saying is that if you were my girlfriend id be the one coming to apologize and id try to find every possible way to make it up to you." You say leaning closer towards Vi

She sputters trying to find the words to defend herself, every single word unfortunately dying in her throat.

"I’d be the one begging you for another chance after acting like a dumbass. I'd spoil you and not let you do anything till you forgave me" You continued.

The silence that fell between you and Vi after your last words was thick with unspoken things. Vi feels as if her heart is beating out her chest as you continue to close the distance between the two of you guys.

"You do deserve better, Vi," you said, your voice soft but certain. "And when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Not just as your friend, but... more than that, if you want. You don’t need Cait to feel loved. I’m not going anywhere."

Vi looked at you, her eyes wide, and in that moment, it was like everything clicked for her

You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to show her that everything she needed wasn’t in Cait. That there was more for her. That she didn’t have to settle.

Just as you leaned forward, your lips barely inches from hers, the door to the room creaked open, and the sudden sound of keys jingling at the front door broke the fragile bubble that had formed between the two of you.

You two quickly back away from each other, moving to the opposite sides of the couch, averting eyes as Caitlyn walks into the room

A/n: Sorry for the cliffhanger and sorry to all the caitvi shippers, i love them too...i just can't pretend that i wouldn't want vi if they broke up fr.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi fanfic #vi x caitlyn #vi x y/n #lesbian #bisexual #wlw #vi x you #arcane league of legends

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doeeyeseddie · 3 days ago

Note

Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving.

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do.

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately.

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have.

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

#buddie #911 #buddie fic #911fic #pia writes #ask #leothil #frida tag

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dashing-disaster · 22 hours ago

Text

Okay I either just had the best or the worst idea on the topic of Crash That Helicopter and someone else has probably already had the same thought just better but.

What if Tommy regains consciousness and realises he's trapped and his chopper is basically toast, including his comms. But his phone is miraculously okay. So he calls 911.

Meanwhile at dispatch, Maddie is having the Worst Time with morning sickness and runs to the toilet every 10 minutes until Josh decides to force her to go home. But she refuses at first because Kevin and Sarah are both out with the flu and Jessica unexpectedly quit last week to follow her boyfriend of 5 weeks to Australia and now they're short staffed. But Josh tells her it's fine they'll figure it out and pretty much throws her out. He has a small breakdown because they are seriously short staffed but luck just so has it that one of the long term dispatchers walks through the door right then (Debbie perhaps?) with her friend who used to work here but quit years ago and now lives in Phoenix (was it phoenix? I don't quite remember) buy she wanted to see the new dispatch centre and say hi to some people. And in walks no other than Abby Clark.

And Josh is still spiralling a little and she immediately offers to fill in for a few hours it's really no problem she still works in dispatch after all and she knows the systems and she'd love to help. And Josh, stressed but grateful accepts and ushers her towards a free desk. And Abby gets to work right away and she definitely still got it, she does one or two simple calls absolutely flawlessly and then in comes the third call and the voice is familiar.

And that's how Abby takes Tommy's 911 call, and immediately dispatches the best unit she knows because of course.

And of course he also immediately recognises her even though he's kinda dizzy and losing blood. They start talking. Not really about them but light things because Abby needs to keep Tommy awake and he's fading so she tries to keep his attention. So she tells him she's sent the 118, they're his old house right, but lots of new faces, actually she used to date his replacement and then broke his heart by walking away from him. And he laughs kinda pained. Actually, so did he. She pauses for a moment, then demands clarification so Tommy starts talking. And he tells the whole story for the first time since the break up, including the reasons. Some of them he doesn't even mention because it's Abby. Abby who maybe knows him best in the whole world because she's known him at his worst and somehow still loved him.

And Abby listens. And when he's finally done she let's out a long sigh and calls him a dumbass. And then she gets to setting his head straight. She gives him a proper dressing down and gets to the bottom of it. And finally she asks him if he regrets it. Yes. If he loves Buck. If course he does. If he wants him back.... Yeah. So she tells him to work for it, to fight for them. And when she's done giving him a passionate little monologue about love and relationships silence falls.

She calls his name. No answer, only sirens in the distance.

She calls his name again, more frantically and he's still not replying and now she's in tears because they can't both break Buck's heart like that, one of them has to fucking fix it!

Meanwhile the 118 has been racing towards the crash site, Buck antsy but determined and refusing to stay by the rig and let Eddie and Ravi handle it. Tommy needs him.

When they finally arrive it's a complete nightmare, debris and fire everywhere and they're taking far too long to cut Tommy out. Long enough for the TV crews to arrive and start broadcasting the whole thing live.

So Abby, still on the line with an unresponsive Tommy, hoping, praying, is watching Taylor Kelly report live from the crash site where the firefighter have started ripping through the remains of the helicopter. Until Bobby steps in front of the camera and forces them to shut it off because he has no idea what they're going to find there.

Which is also why he eventually makes the decision to pull Buck back after all. Between Eddie, Ravi, Hen and Chim there are enough hands already anyway, they've got him, Buck.

So that's how Taylor Kelly, who's still a bit pissed at Bobby for ruining her news piece, watches Buck disappear between the engine and the ladder truck looking like his world is collapsing and he might be her ex but of course she still cares. It's Buck, how can you not care about him? So she follows him and finds him just as he's breaking down. And she has no idea what's going on, she simply pulls him into a hug and let's him cry it out.

And when he csn breathe again he tells her. That's the love of his life there. His name is Tommy and he dumped him three months ago after he asked him to move in. And they both smile weakly before he continues.

He never told him. He only ever told her, and he didn't lie, he promises but it's never felt like this. And he never told him that he loved him.

Loves him.

And she says that maybe he should do that now then and nods at something behind him.

And there are Chim and Hen and Ravi and Eddie running towards the parked vehicles, pushing a gurney. And there's Bobby yelling for Buck to come get his ass into the ambulance, they have to leave right now.

And Taylor smiles and wipes his tears away and gives him a push. Go. Go and fight and tell him what you told me.

And he does.

#911 abc #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #abby clark #taylor kelly #And obviously Tommy probably Codes dramatically on the way to the hospital but they get him back with the power of family and friendship #And buck is making teary love confessions the entire way #And it's touch and go for a bit but Tommy makes it #And they make up and live happily ever after #The end

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whenalltheeyesopen · 1 day ago

Text

Whelp. Just for you.

Edit: AO3 cross-post

It was quite a miracle, really, that driving was boring. It was a miracle that a big metal box running on controlled petrolium combustion shooting down massive slabs of tar at several times the speed of any known land animal could be considered boring. It was a dozen miracles put together that it was just as boring on an ephemeral rainbow road between dimensions.

Irene was stressed. She was stressed and she was bored and she was focusing badly on the road. In the back seat of the car, her usually well-behaved Persian was yowelling piteously in its carrier because it had been exiled to the back seat, too far from Mommy, because the passenger seat was occupied by a man, and the man was sobbing so fast that Irene expected him to throw up. He was hugging himself with one hand and with the other he squeezed his Bill Cipher pin so hard that deep ridges lined his fingers.

He was choking back air with every sob, too despondant to breathe.

Irene was bored and stressed and down to her last frayed nerve and she had no more control over the man in her passenger side seat than she did over the animal in the back. His fear and despair were just as animalistic, too. The cat at least had the self-respect to think it was people.

A cobolt blue sky-crawler from Dimension 62`~ flashed its headlights at her, then didn't even give her a chance to change lanes before adopting corkscrew posture and zipping around her Toyota. Irene screamed "OH FUCK OFF" to the unheeding driver(s), suddenly overcome with the urge to gun it and make those alien bastards regret the days they were born.

Behind her, the cat burbled. Beside her, the man hiccoughed and sputtered.

Irene wanted to gun it, and possibly wanted to scream, but she hadn't made it through med school in the apocalypse by giving in every time she felt like doing something dramatic.

I am getting overwhelmed, she reminded herself calmly. I have to take steps to calm down.

There was an overlook coming up, a pocket of omnidirectional convex micro-gravity put in by the nearest subdimension's tourist committee to tempt more Earthlings out onto this highway. Irene pulled in and navigated to the furthest parking space, situated on a wall. Dancing colors illuminated the interior of the car from the passenger's side. The driver's side looked out on sparkling eldritch eyes which formed constellations in the void.

Stanford Pines did not admire the colors and he did not notice the cosmic beasts. Bill had taken his glasses before the agility competition. That probably contributed to what had happened. Ford also reeked of alcohol and something sweeter; he had been running the course so blitzed out of his mind that Irene considered it a medical miracle that he was able to stand.

Irene stepped out of the car. Ford let out a cry, but lacked the strength to protest further.

In for three, out for five. Ten counts. Clear your mind.

Irene had studied pediatrics. She didn't work with a lot of kids, but she thought it was just due diligence before she open a proper family practice. Everyone should study pediatrics; as a whole, adults had a lot more in common with children than people realize.

In three, out five.

Done.

Dr. Irene Oleander admired the Eldrich gods under her feet while she walked around the car.

She opened the passenger side door.

Ford's face turned away, then haltingly back toward her. His sense of left and right must still be reversed. Doctor Oleander was not a neurologist, so she had to just pretend that wasn't terrifying and let Bill fix it later.

"Doctor Pines?" she said as gently as he could.

He stared at her. His eyes were puffy and so wet with tears that she could hardly make out his irises. He was still sobbing.

"Please speak," she said. He usually responded only to imperatives when he was upset.

"Yes?" His voice squeaked.

"Calimari is very scared," Irene said.

He blinked a few times in confusion. The tears cleared out of his eyes to show rich brown and bloodshot red. He looked over his shoulder, though, at the cat.

"She's scared of being in the back seat," Irene said, still as calmly as she could. "She's used to riding in the front."

Doctor Pines's eyes went wide. "Oh no," he said, insecure replaced with a whole new terror. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," Irene said loudly and firmly. "Pay attention."

Immediately he was totally still. Even the sobbing paused. The only sounds were goopy cat noises and his ragged wheezes.

Irene didn't let her conscience nag at her for utilizing his operant conditioning. It was all for a good cause.

"I think Calimari might like it if someone held her," Irene said. "I don't suppose you're experienced with animals, are you?"

Of course he was, he was a biologist.

He blinked stupidly at her for a minute before saying, "I am." Then he sobbed again.

"Will you try holding her for a little bit while I drive, to see if she calms down?"

"Of course, Doctor," he said through renewed sobs.

The carrier was shifted. Irene looped through a jughandle and back onto the road.

To her immense relief, he seemed steadier. Pets, children: sometimes all they need is a job to do. (The cat was calmer too, which was a pleasant surprise.)

Irene got as far as the exit to 46'! before Ford fell completely silent. At this, Irene glanced over to check on him. He was holding the carrier with both hands, not even playing with the necklace anymore. At least now he was calm, if a little... checked out.

"Doctor Oleander?" He whispered as Irene took the backslash exit and the Toyota began to groan against the sudden reintroduction of physics.

"Yes, Doctor Pines?"

"Did he leave me on purpose?"

Yes. Yes he did. He abandoned you because he hates you and if you were a real pet you would have been repossessed and rehomed then and there. He isn't taking care of you and he does nothing but hurt you and you're too broken to recognize that nothing about this has ever, ever, ever been anything but intentional cruelty.

Then again:

Primum non nocere.

"He was just bored," Irene said. "You know how he gets when he's bored."

Ford winced and shuddered and smiled all at the same time. It made Irene's skin crawl. "Yes, I know," he said. His voice was playful, almost like that was an adequate excuse, like all was forgiven.

Irene had thought about kidnapping Ford before. Many times, in fact. She had thought about drugging him, blacking out the eyes on his jewelry and tattoos, and taking this same highway as far as she could into the omniverse. She hadn't thought about it for long. There was literally no way she could make it far enough to completely escape the All-Seeing Eye, and the one time she'd considered a more elaborate plan than a plain old cut-and-run, Cipher himself had visited her dreams to mock her for it. Besides: Irene was selfish. As long as she played nice with this one well-paying customer, she got to keep a good house with a luxury cat and disposable income in a world where many people were lucky if their organs stayed on the correct side of their skin.

Ford was not a pet. He was a grown adult man with several doctoral degrees and a prestigeous scientific reputation. Like it or not, he had the right to make his own decisions.

And the only thing that terrified him more than Bill Cipher's displeasure was the thought that Bill Cipher might possibly leave him behind.

Ford did not do well in the dog competition. He knocked over all the agility equipment and got stuck in the tube

#Fanfiction #Domesticated Ford AU #domesticated ford #gravity falls #gravity falls au #Irene Oleander #Irene Outis Oleander

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yuri-is-online · 9 hours ago

Note

Now I wanna know how Grim ranks the second years. Also I'm in pain from wisdom teeth removal

oh dear I have heard that really hurts, I hope you are ok!

The Great Grim's OFFICIAL Tier List: Take 2 (do not steal)

Riddle- 3/10. Grim likes Riddle a lot, but not in a "hench human should date him" sort of way. If Grim had the ability to understand dating beyond thinking it's cringe he would tell you he is concerned about how Riddle handles conflict and what that would mean for your relationship. He wants you to be with someone who will give you space to relax, and Rampaging Riddle isn't the best at that. Unfortunately, Grim isn't that articulate so he just says he thinks he's too short.

Ruggie- 6.5/10. Ruggie isn't someone Grim hates exactly? Sure you dating someone rich would be nice because then he could get better tuna, but the rich guys on this campus are kind of scary... the real problem with Ruggie is that he expects Grim to do his share of the work. And he isn't shy about how cute he thinks Grim's insistence that he is the one in charge, that stupid laugh will start haunting his dreams. At least the cooking is worth it.

Azul- 7/10. Grim knows he shouldn't trust Azul but he does sort of... look he likes what the sleazy Tako is selling alright? And once that sell starts turning towards a romantic relationship with you he will absolutely be a little shit trying to wing man for him with you. It's sort of pathetic watching how they interact, both of them are convinced they are outsmarting the other but really the only person who is winning here is you.

Jade- I am so happy for your ugly ass boyfriend/10. Grim would be very happy if Jade tripped and fell into a ditch somewhere. Unfortunately Jade is an eel so he would probably just swim out of it right back into your arms and fake cry about it. If he wasn't so scary he'd be a 0.

Floyd- 9/10. Grim and Floyd sort of get along? Or at least I think so, Floyd likes Grim and likes hanging out with him and Yuu. He's the most likely out of the octotrio to actually bribe Grim without some sort of trick or gimmick because he finds it funny to see just how many things the baby seal will eat. He misses a point because Grim doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being perfect but that's ok, Floyd knows the truth c: (he's delulu)

Kalim- 9.5/10. Grim thinks Kalim is kind of stupid and keeps trying to feed him crackers, so he is a half point away from perfect but! Kalim has no problems spoiling Grim which is good enough for him. Most of the time, if he didn't have money Grim would have so many questions.

Jamil- 20/10. Jamil is cringey but he can cook. I think Grim probably would be happiest in the long run with the more "normal" guys and Jamil would probably end up being his favorite. He gets to eat good food, and while Jamil would still want him to work... work isn't something Jamil wants to govern his entire life so Grimmy would be very happy with Yuu's choice.

Silver- meh/10. I don't think Grim understands the appeal of someone like Silver tbh. If anything I think his blunt kuudere swagger scares the hoes, which includes Grim. Sure, Silver is pretty, but he also says some pretty fucking dumb things that make Grim wonder if he needs to be the smart one. Normally he'd love that but ah. He is starting to feel rather unqualified all of a sudden for some reason, are you sure you like this guy? What standard is he meeting exactly and can you maybe reconsider...

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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hiiikiko · 2 days ago

Text

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[4: guess i have a type]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: you begin to recognize some similarities between ellie and good ol’ spidey… guess you have a type, huh?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Beep, beep, beep!!

You wake up with a grumble, last nights— er, this morning’s activities had done a number on you.. you weren’t used to so much excitement.

“What time is it?” you mumble against your pillow as you fumble for your phone, the bright light guiding your hand under the sheets, “Gotta call Gwen later.. let’s see.. FUCK!”

You scramble outta bed, tossing the blankets off you and your cat as well, who hissed at you very angrily for disturbing his fourth nap of the morning.

“S-Sorry,” you say to your cat as you scramble to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and rushing through your skincare routine. You decided to forgo the makeup today and instead just apply some light mascara and fix your brows up, maybe add some concealer.. and blush.. and maybe just a litt—, “No time!” you scold yourself.

You set your makeup bag down and run for the closet, rummaging around for .. “Ah, there it is!”

You snap the cheap metal buttons of your uniform together, the yellow polo with a red collar and pocket hugging your torso quite nicely, well, as nicely as a 30 year old uniform could, then you slid on the matching red skirt, your tights for extra warmth, shoes, and you can’t forget your name tag that read ‘Mary Jane.’

You quickly feed your cat some snacks, apologizing over and over as he ate and then made your way out. As you ran down the stairs, you pulled your trench coat on tight around you, hiding any part of your uniform.. you weren’t embarrassed about working at a diner but you knew your so-called friends, coworkers, and classmates wouldn’t be so understanding.. after all, you are from a well off family, so it would look funny.. besides, you don’t need anymore rumours going around about you.

As you’re about to round a corner, you bump into an all too familiar someone.

“Woah, slow down,” Ellie chuckled, her hands on your waist to stop you from toppling over.

“O-Oh, morning, Ellie..” you blushed, the memories of last night still fresh, you pulled the coat even tighter, you sure as hell did not want her to see you in this dorky uniform.

“Where you off to? You seem to be in a rush,” she commented, her eyes lingering on your form but before you could answer, your bus was pulling up.

“Sorry, Ellie, uh, chat later? I really gotta go!”

Ellie knew exactly where you were off to, she had stopped by that diner the other day to check out the schedule.. they should really get a better security system, she thought.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I know, I know! I’m sorry Darlene, I had a late nig—.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Missy! Just get out there and start taking orders, okay?”

You nod, thankful she didn’t give you another lecture. You liked Darlene, she was like a really cool mom.. who smoked a lot.. and drank a lot.. but she let you keep all your tips so she wasn’t so bad, you gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks, Ma.”

Darlene was like a mom to everyone in the diner, she treated everyone like they were one of her own, it was nice being apart of a ‘family.’

Your morning was full of truckers asking for refills on coffee, business men asking for the paper, ladies of the night coming in after a wild night, and.. Ellie?

“Morning” she smiled at your coworker as she seated her, that goofy lopsided smile made your heart flutter a bit.. actually, you couldn’t tell if it was her smile that was making your heart flutter or if it was the idea of being found out.

You had to hold back a gasp as you dove behind the counter, praying she didn’t see you and as you crawled your way into the kitchen, so close to freedom.. Darlene rounded the corner..

“The hell..? What are you doing down there?” she prodded you with her foot.

You put a finger to your lips and gestured for her to come lean down, she reluctantly did so, grumbling about her knees, “Darlene, can I please, please, please go on my 15 minute break? A girl I lik— uh, know is here..”

“Your break now? You can’t take that until.. another hour!” She pulled you up by your collar, like a mama cat carrying it’s kitten by the scruff.

“Please!”

“No, no way.”

“What if I said I’ve taken up smoking, huh? Then you LEGALLY have to let me take a break.”

“You? You take up smoking?” she scoffed, “Nice try princess, get out there, now.”

You whimpered and straightened your apron as she shoved you out of the kitchen, when Darlene said now, she meant yesterday.

Before the door could swing shut, Darlene poked her head out, “Oh, and we’re changing your section.. you’re now serving tables 11-17.” you could feel the shit eating grin’s aura as she laughed her way back into the kitchen.

God fucking damn it.

“Morning..” you mumbled as you pulled out your notepad, “What can I get you.. Ellie?”

Ellie’s eyes lit up as she laid them on you, “Hey, uh, Mary Jane?”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Hey, hey, slow down! Hm.. what can you recommend MJ?”

“The waffles here are pretty good.”

“I’ll have that then, oh, and coffee, too. Five cream and five sugar.”

You laugh, “Are you serious?”

She stared at you with a deadpan look, “Yeah?”

“Oh my god.. you are.. Ellie, that’s, like, a lot of sugar.. literally diabetes in a cup.”

“I don’t like the taste of coffee.. tastes like burnt shit.”

You scoff, “Then why do you drink it?”

“Keeps me up.”

“You don’t need the caffeine, just take the five sugar packets and you’ll probably still run the same since you’re already drinking sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Shut up, just get me my coffee,” she mumbled.

When you had served Ellie her food and coffee, you expected her to leave right after like every other customer ever but no.. like always, Ellie had to differentiate herself from the crowd. She did leave the diner but she waited in her truck outside. So, when Darlene said you could leave and head to school, Ellie was outside waiting for you.

“Don’t wanna keep lover girl waiting, do ya?” Darlene had said when you clocked out.

The blush from her comment still on your face as you walked to Ellie’s truck and knocked on the window, “Hey, what’re you still doing here?”

Ellie straightened up, “Uh, thought you might like a ride..?”

“You didn’t have to, Ellie.”

“Wanted to do something nice for you,” how could she be so effortlessly sweet.

You nodded and hopped in, her truck was an older model, a chevy. It was nice, inside smelled like pine and cologne..

Do her and spidey share the same cologne?

Now that you think about it, they have a lot of similarities… they’re both nerds, smell like pine, tobacco, and that cologne, same height, and the same music taste.. weird.

Could Ellie be.. Spidey?

You almost let out a laugh at the thought. There’s no universe in which Ellie is Spider-Man. For one, she’s too shy compared to the flirty masked man, two, she’s never been able to hold a conversation with you without turning it back to tutoring.. and three, she’s a girl.. not a man.

Guess I have a type.

“To school or..?”

“Uh, school.. can you drop me off at the cafe across the street? I wanna change before class..” you say, a little embarrassed.

Ellie doesn’t say anything, she just nods as she pulls into the cafe parking lot.

You huff, “Hey, Ellie? Um.. can.. can you not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m embarrassed but y’know.. kids at our school can be mean when it comes to class and..”

Ellie nods, “Don’t I know it?”

You feel a pang of guilt as she says that, you knew Ellie wasn’t as well off as your family was.. in the first two years of college, she was belittled because of it. You didn’t participate in it, of course, but you wish you hadn’t just stood by and turned the other way, “Sorry..”

“I-It’s fine, fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.. but.. can I ask you a question?”

You nod, “Sure.”

“Why are you working there? You also model.. it can’t be to make extra cash, right? I mean your family is rich and—.”

You interrupt her, “I.. I know. My family’s rich and whatever but come on, there’s no way that my family, a family of politicians would ever want me to be a doctor. To them, being a doctor isn’t anywhere as good as being senator.. or governor..” you scoff.

“Fuck, sorrry..”

“Mhm.. so when I told my father that I wanted to be a doctor, he told me that I’d have to do it on my own since he didn’t see it as an ‘investment,” you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “So that’s why I work two jobs and apply for all those scholarships..”

“I had no idea, Y/n.. that’s really something.”

You smile at her.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Why the fuck does your name tag say ‘Mary Jan’,” she pointed at your name tag, the perplexed expression on her face eliciting a laugh out of you.

“Oh, that.. well, Darlene, er, my shift manager gave it to me like that. I guess Mary Jane was a waitress who worked there before me, she was a aspiring actor, apparently, she’s on broadway now.. so, I decided to keep it, hoping that her luck might rub off on me,” you giggled, “That and when I first started modelling, I had this creep stalker so I took on the name Mary Jane in hopes that it’d shake him off.”

Ellie laughs, “Makes sense.”

You nod and grab your duffel to head inside, “I’ll be right back.”

Inside the cafe’s restroom, you bury your face into your palms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t believe she saw me in this dorky uniform! I must look like a hotdog!

After putting on your normal clothes, you touched up your makeup and hair and made your way back out.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You ended up studying in the library late into the night. You had to pass this test coming up and you didn’t feel like seeing Ellie again. As much as you liked her, you couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated that she wasn’t affected by that night’s events… had she felt nothing?

You were too entranced in your thinking to realize that someone had sat right next to you at the bus stop.

“Hey, got a light?”

You rolled your eyes, prepared to fight off another disgusting man, “I don’t so why don’t you just—!” Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes laid on the red and blue figure in front of you, “Fuck, sorry.. didn’t know it was you..”

Spidey laughed into his fist as he nudged you with his shoulder, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Ugh, I have this test in chem coming up so I had to study.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell—.”

“What was that?”

“Uh.. why.. why didn’t you tell your teacher?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What?”

“Nothing!”

You chuckled, “Y’know, you remind me a lot of this girl I know. “

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, haha, you two are way too similar, so similar that I found myself wondering if you were the same person, “you giggled.

Ellie’s should left her body.

“Whaaaatttt, that’s crazyyyyy.”

You giggle, “I know, there’s no way you two are the same person.. I mean she’s way too awkward,” ouch, “she doesn’t look all that athletic,” damage: -20, “she also can’t really flirt,” i totally can.. just not without the mask, “Also, you’re a man and she’s a girl..” damn.

Spidey’ sighed, “Yeah.. I don’t know.. she sounds cool!”

You nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “Yeah.. she’s ‘cool.’”

“Do you.. do you like her?”

You blush, “I don’t know.. maybe? Like, I like her, hell, we even made out but.. turns out that I was the only one affected by it.. she doesn’t even seem all that bothered or anything.. I don’t know, maybe I just played myself? I’m pretty sure that if I were the last girl on earth, she would still never go out with me..” you rub your eyes, “Argh, I don’t know.. she’s hot and cold, too hard to read.”

“Sorry..,” you hear Spidey mumble.

“At least I have you, hm? Good ol spidey, here to save the day.”

He looks at you, you wish you could peel his mask back to see what kind of face he was making, without thinking, your fingers lift up to his face. He notices and within the blink of an eye, he’s gone..

ELLIE’S POV:

“F-Fuck,” Ellie whispered, her hand on her chest to steady her breathing as she peaked around the ledge of a rooftop at you, still sitting and waiting for the buss, “That was too damn close, Ellie, what the fuck were you thinking? Shouldn’t be letting her get that close..”

Ellie felt guilty as she watched you all alone, you must be feeling pretty shitty right now, huh? I mean, not only has Ellie left you high and dry… but now, so has spidey..

Ellie lowered herself onto the ground, even though she left you down there all by yourself, she wasn’t gonna leave you vulnerable in New York City at night.. so might as well get comfy while we wait for your bus, right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou

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lostbookmark · 2 days ago

Text

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

WHISPERED VOWS MASTERLIST here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUt

You stare at the screen of your computer and yawn. You haven't gotten a lot of sleep the past few nights. Yoongi has been gone again at night more frequently, opting to sleep in his studio in small spurts in between working. He tells you that he's so close to finishing the album, but you'll believe it when you see it. As of right now, you don't believe him at all. This has now been the third time he told you that. You have been keeping yourself busy trying to make the decision of what cake you want to try at your tasting next week. You get ten flavors to sample, and you are taking it very seriously. Your guest won't remember your vows after the wedding but they will remember if the cake was bad. Compared to everything else, this is the one thing you were looking forward to.

“What are feelings on fondant?” You ask Seungkwan. He looks up at you from across the room and makes a face. “Buttercream it is.”

“What does Yoongi want?” he asks.

“He doesn't care for cake, so he'll leave it up to me,” you tell him with a sigh. “Just like everything else. At least he is coming with me to sample them. So, I'll take it as a win.”

“You should talk to him about it,” he says, typing away on his computer. “If it's getting to be too much, you need to say something.”

“No, I took responsibility to plan everything. I can't go back on my word,” you tell him as you lean back and close your eyes. “I got your sister's email. The picture of the bouquet she sent is beautiful.”

“Oh, I'm glad,” he said with a small smile. “What did you go with?”

“Dark burgundy delilahs and white roses. Seriously, Seungkwan, thank you. I really appreciate it,” you say. “Anyway, I'm hungry. I'm going to hit the vending machine downstairs on the studio level. Did you want anything?”

“We have vending machines on our floor too,” Seungkwan tells you with a knowing look.

“I'm not up to anything. They have Oreos down there,” you say, defending yourself. “All we have are protein bars.”

“I guess I'll take a pack as well,” he relents.

Grabbing your card from your bag, you leave your office and take the elevator downstairs. You weren't lying….technically. The studio level does indeed have better snacks in the vending machine, but you can't help it if you have to walk by Yoongi's studio to get to it. Your chances of actually running into him were slim, but hey, you'll take the chance.

Leaving the elevator, you round the corner past Hobi's studio and then down past Yoongi's studio to get to the coveted snack machine. Sliding your card, you press the correct number for your cookies, the machine roars to life and pushes your cookies out. Bending down, you take them from the bottom of the machine and repeat. Only this time, the Oreos do not drop once you press the correct buttons. They get stuck between the coil holding them and the small black divider to its side.

“No,” you say into the empty hallway. You give the button another press and another, but still nothing happens. You gave the machine a big whack this time, but the only thing that you managed to do was hurt your hand. “Ouch!” You exclaim and shake your hand.

“Need help,” a voice says, startling you. You didn't even hear a door open.

Shit. Kai is smiling at you when you look to see who came to your rescue. He looks just as handsome as you remember, but this is not the best place to be seen with him. Not when you can look past him and see your fiancée's door. Fucking Orero's. They were too good to resist. You need to lay off the junk food. You should have gone with the protein bars.

“Um, sure. Thanks,” you say and back away from the vending machine.

Kai presses both his hands at the top of the vending machine and gently rocks it back and forth. It probably takes less than ten seconds before the sweet snack hits the bottom of the machine. He reaches down and retrieves them for you. Standing back up, he smiles and hands them to you.

“Thanks,” you say again, taking them from him and then proceed to take a few extra steps away from him.

“Y/N, right?” He asks you and leans on the machine he just manhandled. “Lisa's friend. We met at Jimin's party.”

“Yeah, that's me,” you say, standing there awkwardly in front of him. “I should…”

“You know it's a shame that our night was cut short at that party. I had a good time talking to you,” he comments, and you can hear the elevator ding. “Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day tonight?”

“No,” you say quietly. Is that today? You have completely forgotten.

“Is your boyfriend working tonight? He works here, right? Your boyfriend is a producer in the company? I think I have seen around….he glares a lot.”

“Fiancée and part owner actually,” Jimin says, walking up to the two of you. He slings his arm around his friend's shoulder. “I think Y/N needs to head back to work.” Jimin widens his eyes and jerks his head quickly. You stare at him strangely but decide to just go with it.

“Yeah, umm, very busy,” you say as Jimin still motions for you to go.

“Oh,” Kai said, looking amused. “So busy you had to have a cookie break? You don't seem that busy to me.”

“Yup, she just needs sugar every now and then, or she gets angry. I think she …realllyyy….needs to go. She should also…take the stairs. Now.” Jimin says.

Your eyes widen. You finally get it. Yoongi was probably on his way down. You turn quickly, running down the hall and heading for the door hiding the stairwell. You hear Kai say something to Jimin, but you were too busy running for your life to catch what it was. You make a sound of defeat when you open the door. Do you want to take four flights of stairs in heels? No. Do you want Yoongi to catch you with Kai? Absolutely not. You'll take the chance of busting your ass in your heels because it was better than the alternative.

Huffing and puffing, you make it back into your office and throw the cookies at Seungkwan, hitting him squarely in the chest. Who then made a disapproving sound when they hit him. You throw yourself in your chair and wipe your forehead with your hand. Man, you're out of shape.

“What happened?” he asks, opening the snack you got him and shoves one in his mouth.

“Kai happened,” you say and don't elaborate. You just hope that Yoongi doesn't find out.

Did anything interesting happen today?

It should have been an innocent text from Yoongi, but you knew better. He knew that you must have talked to Kai earlier, but you don't know who told him. Would Jimin go through all that trouble to help you and then rat you out? Probably. Not that there was anything to tell because you did nothing wrong. You bite your lip and think about how you want to answer this. You weigh your options. You can be brat about this, or you can fess up and be honest. Your fingers tap the side of your phone in thought. This is the fifth night in a row that he wouldn't be home, and your eyes drift to that red trunk that has yet to be discovered in your closet. You chose brat.

I got me and Seungkwan Oreos. You responded by typing back.

That all?

Yup, I wanted to save my energy for tonight. You write back.

Getting out of bed, you go to your closet and drop to your knees in front of that red chest. You take off the blanket and hoodies that you threw on top of it, placing everything to the side. You're going to take Lisa's advice and send Yoongi a quick picture. Of what exactly….you're not quite sure yet. Opening the lid, your face still burns with embarrassment, looking at everything that Lisa bought for you. You don’t even know where to start.

What's tonight? he types back.

You reach inside and grab what you think she called a personal massager. A deep purple device was one of the more innocent looking items in the box. Your eyes next land on the leather handcuffs, and you quickly snatch them as well before you could talk yourself out of it. Taking a breath, you put everything back before walking back over to the bed. Chucking your shirt off over your head, leaving your top half completely exposed. You lie down on your stomach, moving the toy close to your body and squish your boobs together between your arms. Positioning your device in what you hope is just the right angle to make you look enticing you snap a picture using the timer. You look at the result, and you are actually kind of impressed. Not bad.

Solo play, you answer with the accompanied picture and hit send.

Your palms become sweaty, your hands shake, and your eyes become large as you stare at your phone screen. What did you do? Oh, no! What did you do? Can you unsend a text? Please, you just want to take it back. Your hands start to flail around in the air by your head in panic. Your heart stops as the message goes from delivered to read.

“Oh shit,” you whisper to yourself and grab your shirt to cover yourself.

You watch as the dreaded dots appear on the screen, showing that he was responding. Your mouth goes dry, and suddenly, they disappear, but nothing comes through. You wait and wait, but again, nothing comes through. He's not going to respond. You don't know if you should be relieved or embarrassed that he probably didn't like it. Maybe Lisa doesn't know what she is talking about after all. You thought maybe you could salvage Valentines, but now you feel just plain stupid and a little unwanted. It kind of hurt. Tossing your phone on the bed, you lazily roll yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom to shower. Maybe you can wash away your idioticness.

When you open the bathroom door after your shower, the steam rolls out behind you. You tighten the towel that is wrapped around your freshly cleaned body as you head back to the bedroom. Stepping over the threshold into said room, you freeze. Yoongi is sitting on the edge of the bed. In his hands was that deep purple toy. His eyes look up at you through the strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead and into his eyes. Your pulse quickens. You guess Lisa does, in fact, know what she is talking about. You watch him reach over and grab the discarded cuffs. He dangles them off one of his slim fingers and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Solo play, huh?” he asks, resting both his elbows on his knees.

“I didn't think that you would come,” you tell him, holding your towel tighter like it was going to hide you somehow. Hide away the embarrassment of your actions.

Yoongi stands up from the bed after he discards the gifts on the bed and approaches you slowly. Once he reaches you, he slides his hand down your bare arm. The excess water in your hair starts to drip down your exposed skin, sending a chill through you. You noticeably shiver, and Yoongi pulls you closer to him. Bending his head, he captures your lips with his own, giving you a soft, teasing kiss.

“Do you still want it to be solo, or can I join?” he whispers against your lips.

You slip your hands to the hem of his shirt and pull up. Yoongi lifts his arms, helping you bring it over his head and taking it off the rest of the way by himself. Pulling his head down to you, you press your mouth against his. Yoongi moves his hands to your wet tangled hair, gripping your head tightly, keeping you where you were.

“Were you thinking of me?” he asks, pulling away slightly and pressing his forehead against yours.

“Yoongi,” you whimper and try to look away, but the hold on your head doesn't let you.

“What? You can't send me pictures like that and be embarrassed, baby,” he tells you as he kisses a path from your cheek to your neck. “You don't think that I haven't touched myself thinking about you? Hmmm, because I have…and I do.”

Something in you snaps, and you grab him, kissing him hard as you think about him alone in his studio, stroking himself. He groans into your mouth, holding you close against his body. You place your hands on his chest and back him up to the bed. The both of you falling onto it once the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, mouths still connected. Pulling away, you crawl off of him and move to the center of the bed. Yoongi twists around trying to grab for you, but you stay out of his reach, and you make him follow you up the bed.

You gently push him back against the pillows when he reaches out for you again, and you climb onto his lap. Leaning down, you press your mouth to his again. His hands travel to the top of your twisted towel, and he gently pulls it apart, giving him the treat of your naked body with small water droplets now dripping down onto the both of you. He relaxes underneath you and takes in every inch of you as his hands run up over the top of your thighs and land on your hips.

You reach over and grab the black leather cuffs that are laid beside you. You toy with them and undo the velcro with a loud shkriiiiip. He smirks at you and wets his lips with his tongue. One hand goes to your face. lovingly strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“You want me to cuff you to the bed, baby?” he questions, his voice deep with desire. You smile shyly back at him and shake your head. His eyes narrow at you for a moment before laughing silently. Yoongi places his hands above his head, resting them on the pillow and raises an eyebrow at you. He's daring you to do it. “It's okay.”

You lean over him and wrap his wrist in the leather before hooking the other side through the dark wooden slats of the headboard. Repeating the same treatment to the other wrist, he willing lies there at your mercy. You want to keep here so he can't leave you for days, almost weeks at a time like he always does. God, you miss him, and you don't know how much longer you can last like this. The loneliness at night has almost become unbearable. The silence was almost too loud.

Taking his mouth with yours again, your tongues dance together naturally as your mouths open for one another. He groans in your mouth as you ground your hips onto his pelvis. Your lips pull away with a smack, and you slither your way down his body as you maintain eye contact with him. You can see that his breathing has picked up by the way his chest moves up and down. If that wasn't a sure sign of him liking this, the straining in his sweatpants definitely did.

Settling yourself on the bed between his legs, you run your hand over his clothed erection. Yoongi bucks his hips up into your touch and lets out a harsh, shuddering breath. Reaching for the top of his sweats, you curl your fingers around the fabric and pull them over his hips. You stop in surprise when you realize that he didn't have anyone underneath. Your eyes meet his, and he smirks and gives a slight shrug as best as he can, given his current position.

Pulling them the rest of the way off, you grab his hardness and bring your mouth down to him. Giving his tip one small lick, you pull away. You sit back on your heels and stare at him with an innocent smile before crawling back up his body. You rest your weight on your hands as you hover your face over his.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” you say quietly, and his eyes widen in recognition.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, but you shut him up with a kiss.

“I forgot too, until….Kai reminded me,” you tell him with a knowing look, and he narrows his eyes.

“I bet he fucking did,” he growls.”He was so fucking smug talking to Jimin about you.”

“Oh,” you say and drop your hips onto his hardness that was lying against his flat stomach. You languidly move your wet core back and forth along it. Letting the motion stimulate your clit.

“Yeah,” he answered breathlessly as his eyes rolled back slightly. “Fuck, keep going.”

“Nothing happened,” you tell him as you lift your hips off of him, denying him your touch. “I barely even said two words to him.”

“I trust you,” he says, taking a deep breath

“Do you?” You ask him seriously.

“With my whole heart,” he says, lifting his head for a kiss. You lean down and press your mouth to his once again before moving your kiss to his neck. Yoongi's head falls back onto the pillow. “Baby, can we talk about this later. My cock is so hard it hurts.”

Sitting up you reach between your legs, you grab his cock and run the head along your folds, coating him with your natural slickness before slowly sinking onto him. Yoongi pushes his tongue against the side of cheek as he watches you take all of him with rapt attention. You lean forward with your hands on his chest and press your forehead against his as you start to slowly move up and down on him. You close your eyes and savor the feeling of him inside of you as you take your time. The feeling of fullness replacing the ache of emptiness and loneliness that has plagued you for months now. The hot flame within you that has dulled finally roared back to life.

Yoongi plants his feet flat on the bed and thrusts his hips up against you. His hard dick spears you over and over again as you fall forward from the force of his hips hitting you and bury your face into his neck. You let out a strangled moan as he takes control.

“Undo me, Y/N,” his raspy voice commands. “I need to get my mouth on you.”

You reach up blindly and pull the velcro off one of the cuffs. With his wrist successfully freed, he hurriedly grabs the opposite side and undos it himself. Sitting up, he throws them to the floor and gently guides you off him. He grabs your waist and turns you so you can lie down in his previously occupied spot before he grabs your knees, spreading you open for him.

Lying on his stomach, Yoongi presses a kiss to your throbbing clit. His fingers run up and down your opening gathering your wetness before sinking them into you. You sigh and wiggle your hips in response. Sticking his tongue out he traces small circles around you as his fingers start a slow rhythm pumping into you.

“Do you want me to use that?” he asks, jerking his head to the deep purple toy.

“NO!” You exclaim and cover your face.

Yoongi moves up up your body, hovering over you as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you. He crooks them at the perfect angle that has you gasping and grabbing at his shoulders. Yoongi leans down and kisses your cheek before pushing his fingers deeper inside of you. You press your head further into the pillow underneath you with a whimper.

“Let me use it. Please?” he asked, tongue licking a wet stripe underneath your jaw. You bite your lip as he shoves his fingers into you at a rapid pace that is just as deep.

“Fuck,” you gasp out. “Okay, okay. Use it.”

Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you quickly and grabs onto the massager. His hand fumbles with it for a second before he finds the button to turn it on. The low hum of the messenger and the dark look in his eyes make your mouth go dry. Placing his lips on yours, he trails the deep purple toy down between your breast over your stomach before reaching his final destination. A whine escapes your lips as the vibration hits your sensitive spot.

“Shhh,” he says softly. “I got you. Stop me if it's too much.”

Yoongi moves down the bed, resting on his knees before sinking his fingers back into you. Holding the toy against you, his fingers start pumping into you at a furious pace. Tapping that innermost spongy spot repeatedly has your wetness dripping out of you with every push and pull of his fingers. Your hands reach up and grab on to the wooden slats of the headboard and squeeze tightly. Your hips start to gyrate, and your breathing picks up, making your chest heave up and down.

“God, I miss seeing you like this,” Yoongi growls at you.

“I….I….,” you struggle with words as your hips jump. Your inner walls rhythmically pulse around his fingers, slicking them even more. “STOP!” You manage to sob out. He throws the toy down on the bed in an instant and looks at you with wide eyes. “You…I….I want you.”

“I'm here,” he said, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I am right here. Are you sure you want more?”

“Please, I need it,” you whimper.

Yoongi lines himself up to your entrance and plunges himself all the way. Your back arches as you bring your arm around his shoulders and pull him down to you. Your chests press together, his face buried in your neck, legs wrapped around his waist as his hips thump repeatedly against your own wildly. You feel delirious as his lips attach to your neck sucking hard enough to mark you. You sink your hand into his hair, tugging him off your neck.

“Got to show him your mine, baby. He acts like he can have you. Can he have you? ” he growls in your ear, and you shake your head, unable to speak. His hips pick up in tempo as the headboard starts to rhythmically bang against the wall loudly. “I'm not going to last much longer,” he pants. “You are going to come again. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you pant.

Reaching out, he grabs the discarded toy. Turning it back on, he sneaks it between your bodies to touch it to your clit. You both moan loudly as it makes contact as the vibrations rush through both of you. You feel yourself clench around his hardened length as you cry out, your wetness coating his length. Yoongi hums deeply in satisfaction at the feeling of your pulsating core that surrounds him. His own hips stutter and lose rhythm, toy falling out of his hand as you slap it away when it becomes too much. Slamming his mouth against yours, his hips give you one more hard thrust before he stiffens and comes deep inside of you.

Yoongi drops his head onto your shoulder, panting. You slowly graze your nails up and down his back as you stare up at the ceiling. You can feel his lips lightly connect with the front of your shoulder in what you think is a loving gesture. A tear falls out of the corner of your eye, and you quickly wipe it away. The roaring fire within you minutes ago has gone back to that dull flame. It's a flame that barely flickers and fights to stay lit. You're scared.

Fuck.

Tagged Readers

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia

60 notes · View notes

hungermakesmonsters · 3 days ago

Text

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Forced claiming bites and very subtle allusions to SA (neither are graphically depicted), and some blood/injury mentions. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : 😭😭 sorry this too so long. Also sorry for being terrible about replying to comment on last chapter, work has been kicking my ass.

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seven

There was a hollow place in his chest, carved out and left to fill with rot and decay. It had been there for as long as he’d been himself again, the space that used to be occupied by the Winter Soldier, by violence and bloodshed.

Little by little, he’d been trying to fill it, trying to become whole again.

And, for a brief moment, he’d dared to think it was working.

For a few sweet minutes, he thought that hollow inside him might be filled by you and the feelings you’d caused to grow inside of him.

It played over and over in his head; the moment he’d fucked up and ruined everything.

You’d looked so - fuck, he wasn’t even sure what the look was. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. All the things he never wanted to make you feel, all the things that made the alpha in him feel sick. He was supposed to protect you, supposed to look after you, and what had he done instead?

He’d tried to claim you without consent. He’d tried to take more than you wanted to give.

That thought caused him nothing but pain of the worst kind, forcing him to realise that Bucky was no different from the Winter Soldier. They both hurt you and neither cared.

Only, that wasn’t entirely true. Bucky did care. Of course he did. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have felt so bad. But reality came a close second to his feelings of self loathing.

Not only had he tried to claim you - wanted to claim you - he’d then abandoned you. You were suffering through your heat and he’d just walked out and left you there. God only knew how you were coping on your own.

Fuck, he hated himself, but it wasn’t enough to make him return to the apartment for another two hours.

Something felt off the moment he stepped inside.

The bathroom door was open, so was the door leading to your room, but your scent seemed weaker than it should be and, before he even reached your bed and found it empty, Bucky knew that you were gone.

You’d run.

He knew that it was all his fault.

He moved back towards the door, already knowing it was too late to try and catch your scent, but he had to try. You were gone. Almost as if you’d never even been there to begin with.

In his panic, he called Sam, and the conversation that followed was a rushed garble of words that, ultimately, resulted in Sam telling Bucky that he’d be there in ten minutes, but Bucky wasn’t prepared to wait. He was going to head back to your apartment and look for you there.

Sam met him outside, already on the phone to Torres, trying to track you down after Bucky found your apartment empty.

Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his own skin, his chest tight with worry as he tried not to think about all the terrible things that could happen to an omega in heat out in the city on their own.

“Torres says a police report was filed outside your apartment building a couple of hours ago,” Sam relayed as Torres continued to speak on the other end of the call. “A taxi driver reported seeing the omega that he’d just dropped off being forced into the back of a car. The taxi driver confirmed picking her up outside the safehouse and that she was in heat.”

“Does he know what kind of car or the direction it went - anything?” Bucky asked.

A smile quickly grew on Sam’s lips.

“Even better, Torres is going through street cameras tracking where they took her...” Sam said, his attention returned to the call, listening as Torres worked. “You’re sure? Okay, great. I owe you one.”

“Well?” Bucky asked before Sam could even end the call.

“Gravesend, Brooklyn. There’s a warehouse. Torres is going to call back with more intel,” Sam answered, already moving towards his car.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, his voice a frustrated growl. “You got the suit?”

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“Get the fucking suit, Sam. I’ll meet you there.”

“You sure?”

“The longer she’s with him, the more time he has to hurt her,” Bucky said, already heading for his motorbike

“Should we call it in? Get back-up?” Sam asked.

“No. Not yet. We don’t know he’ll react.”

He started the engine and paused, watching as Sam pulled on his wings, waiting to see if the other man had any further questions.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Is what Sam chose to ask, reminding Bucky of that gnawing emptiness inside of him again.

Bucky didn’t answer, he simply put in his ear piece and peeled away from the curb.

Following the speed limit, he knew the drive could take almost an hour. But Bucky wasn’t going to follow the speed limit.

It wasn’t long before he saw Sam fly overhead and, despite his best efforts, there was no way of keeping up with the wingsuit while weaving through traffic. But the journey passed in a blur - twenty minutes of splitting his attention between other vehicles on the road and how he was going to apologise to you when he saw you again.

Sam tried to make conversation through the earpiece but Bucky wasn’t interested. He was single-minded in his need to rescue you and fix what he’d broken.

By the time he reached the warehouse, as directed by Sam, Torres had managed to give them a pretty good overview of how many ex-Hydra goons were inside and what hardware they had.

It wasn’t well set up, clearly you were the only reason they were even in New York. In some ways that made it better, but also so much worse. Rumlow wasn’t going to give you up without a fight. Add to that the fact that you were still in heat and Rumlow was an alpha obsessed with you...

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Sam’s voice broke through Bucky’s internal panic, almost causing him to flinch.

“Where’s your head, Bucky?”

“It’s right here.”

“Oh really? Then what did I just say?”

“You’ll drop in from the roof, I’ll sneak in from the back,” Bucky answered, hoping he hadn’t missed anything.

“Getting her out is the mission,” Sam said. “Dealing with Rumlow comes after.”

“Agreed.”

Before Sam could continue, Bucky started to move, knowing that they’d already wasted more than enough time. You’d been with Rumlow for over three hours and he knew that anything could have happened in that time. More than that, he knew you; he knew you were a fighter, that you liked to get under people’s skin, and he wasn’t sure how Rumlow would deal with that.

He jumped the fence with ease, landing with a cat-like grace, barely making a sound.

The sun was already starting to set and that made things a little easier for him. Bucky channelled years of training and muscle memory, slipping behind one guard and leaving him incapacitated. If Torres’s intel was right, that left another fifteen men, including Rumlow.

“I’m inside,” Sam said through the comms. “She’s definitely here, I can, uh, smell her.”

Bucky’s stomach knotted as he tightened his grip around the throat of a second goon until he went limp in his grasp.

All he could think about was getting to you, barely noticing anything or anyone that got in his way. He forced open the door and managed to drop another one of Rumlow’s men. It felt like he was losing himself, giving himself over to the part of him that was still the Winter Soldier. He didn’t care if he hurt anyone, didn’t care if he took it too far.

“Bucky, upstairs. I’ve found her, she’s not -”

The sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse, the element of surprise finally wearing out. Bucky took off at a run, heading towards the stairs.

“She’s what, Sam?” He asked, worry filling his tone.

A goon appeared from a doorway, only to find a vibranium fist slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards and halfway through the room he’d been leaving. His other hand was already reaching to unholster his gun.

He headed up the stairs, onto the walkway, heading towards the sounds of fighting.

When a knife flew towards him, it was instinct alone that had Bucky catching it mere inches from his face.

“Good to see you again, Soldier.”

The voice caused the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck to stand and his features twisted into an angry snarl as Rumlow stepped out onto the walkway.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked in a barely contained growl, throwing the knife to the ground.

He took in the sight of Rumlow, his heart threatening to stop at the sight of blood on his shirt.

“She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be,” he answered.

Rumlow started to step forward, closing the distance and Bucky did likewise. Bucky lifted his gun, getting off a couple of shots but, in close quarters, it was easy for Rumlow to knock the gun from his hand.

Both men quickly threw fists, both hitting their mark. Bucky staggered back, momentarily shocked by the power behind Rumlows hit.

The gauntlets. They were making him stronger.

Rumlow needed a second to recover, but both were toe to toe again in a matter of seconds.

This time Bucky feinted, swinging his fist but changing to a knee at the last second, slamming Rumlow into the railing. Then came the punch, super soldier strength, forcing Rumlow to take a step back.

Rumlow retaliated, bringing his foot down against the side of Bucky’s knee, forcing him to stagger backwards to regain his balance. But, for Bucky pain was secondary, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting to you. He needed to save you.

He drove forward again, landing a blow to Rumlow’s kidney before grabbing his shirt and forcing him back against the railing, managing to lift him off his feet.

That was when it hit him, the cloying and sickly scent that was all over Rumlow - it was you, but not the you that Bucky knew. There was something wrong with the scent, something unpleasant, something sour. It reminded him of distress and despair, of pain and suffering.

“What did you do to her?” Bucky demanded.

Rumlow laughed. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

He took advantage of Bucky’s momentary lapse in concentration as he worried about you. Rumlow kicked out again, this time wheeling Bucky around so that he was the one pressed against the railing.

“Can’t believe you came all the way here for another alpha’s omega,” Rumlow grit out, reaching for another knife and driving it into Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky let out a grunt that was more anger than pain as he let go of any sense of restraint.

“She’s not yours.”

He pushed Rumlow backward before lifting him off his feet again and slamming him into the railing, over and over, ignoring the crack of bones and the rattling sound every time Rumlow gasped for breath. The other alpha went limp in his arms and Bucky lifted him, about to drop him over the side of the railing and to the ground thirty feet below.

“Bucky!”

Sam. It was Sam.

The voice pulled Bucky from his anger.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky dared to ask, the question catching even himself by surprise.

“I’ve got back-up on the way, they’ll take him to The Raft, he -”

“He doesn’t deserve that.” Bucky snapped, his eyes fixed on Rumlow’s face, on the blood bubbles that formed at the corners of his lips every time he tried to draw breath

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Sam said. “But you don’t deserve to have his death on your conscience, and there’s an injured omega through there who needs you.”

It was all he needed to hear to let Rumlow go, letting him drop onto the walkway, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move with the damage that Bucky had inflicted. In the distance he could already hear the sirens. Rumlow would pay for what he’d done, just not in the way that Bucky would have preferred.

But Bucky still didn’t know exactly what Rumlow had done, and that thought had him quickly moving past Sam, following the scent that was you but not you into a small room. Another scent soon filled his nose; the coppery tang of blood.

You looked so small, huddled in the corner of the room on a small camp bed, a bloodsoaked scrap of fabric pressed to your neck.

“Mouse?”

He was at your side in an instant, though you seemed unable to fully focus on him. Your lips parted but no words came out.

“Come on, I’m going to get you out of here,” he told you.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, ignoring the knife wound in his shoulder and the blood soaking through his shirt, quickly carrying you out of the room and out of the warehouse where the sirens were getting louder.

“It’s okay,” he told you, over and over, even though you’d lost consciousness at some point. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, mouse. I’m so sorry.”

“Bucky...” you managed in little more than a soft sob.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re safe, mouse. Just hold on to me.”

You did as he asked and wrapped your arm around him as tight as you could while keeping the cloth pressed to your neck.

For the second time that day, he lost himself to the blur of it all as you were quickly loaded into an ambulance and the EMTs started to work on you. They wouldn’t let him travel to the hospital with you, but Sam quickly made sure he was pushed into the back of a second ambulance to have his stab wound dealt with.

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

Your eyes opened and for the briefest moment, you felt nothing but relief; your heat was over and the pain in your abdomen was finally gone. But once your eyes started to focus and you realised where you were, you started to remember.

The monitor at your side started to beep wildly as you desperately tried to sit up.

Hospital.

You were in the hospital.

The cold, sterile smell filled your nose and it was almost enough to make you vomit.

There were hands on your shoulders and voices trying to settle you, but none of it got through to you. You wanted to sit up. Get up. Run.

The beeping seemed to get louder and more frantic. Your neck hurt as you tried to move and you found yourself clawing at the bandages, too panicked to remember what had happened to you. Breath caught in your chest as you struggled, desperate for freedom, desperate to escape the new hell that you’d found yourself in.

You heard someone say something about sedation and, after a few seconds, things started to get blurry and you quickly slipped into darkness.

The second time you woke the panic set in slower, your mind finally clear enough to think, to remember. You were in the hospital. You were safe.

Well, at least a little safer than you had been.

You’d never liked hospitals and the letters OEC painted on the walls did nothing to help settle you.

Months of your childhood had been lost in rooms like the one you currently found yourself, hours and days spent being made to feel weak. Broken.

When your hands dared lift to your neck again, it was gingerly and with the sort of hesitation that came from not knowing if you really wanted to know. Fingers brushed over gauze and bandaging and the slightest pressure had you wincing.

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight back the memories that began to flood back. Brock had tried to claim you. He’d bitten you. Over and over, trying to force you to submit.

You wretched, only just managing to lean over the side of the bed in time, bringing up nothing but fluid. At some point someone else entered the room and there was soon a bucket held out for you until, finally, your stomach completely emptied itself.

The doctor helped you settle back in bed and quickly took your temperature.

“Your heat symptoms have finally abated,” she said, sounding quite happy about it.

“How - how long have I been here?” You asked, your voice raspy and dry.

“You were brought in two days ago,” she explained, pouring you a glass of water and handing it to you, “we had to operate immediately and, because of your heat, we had to keep you sedated yesterday to allow recovery.”

Operate? It was still so fuzzy, it was always harder to remember things that happened during your heats, but this felt like something else. It almost felt like you didn’t want to remember, like some part of you already knew that you were better off not remembering.

You took a slow drink before you spoke again, your throat feeling like it was full of sandpaper.

“What’s wrong with me?” You finally dared to ask, causing her to stop dead beside your bed. “What - what did he do to me?”

The doctor set you with an uncomfortable look which caused your stomach to coil and tie itself in knots. Bad news. It had to be bad news.

She took a breath while you tried to ignore the tears that were prickling at the corner of your eyes.

Not bad news. Awful news.

“When you were brought in, you’d suffered severe trauma after rejecting several forced claiming bites” she said slowly, gently. “There was extensive tissue damage around your throat and neck, particularly over your mating gland. The surgeons did everything they could, but they were unable to repair the damage that had been done to your gland and, ultimately, they had to remove it.”

She continued talking a little while longer but her words were nothing more than a static hiss in your ears as the memories started flooding back.

He’d tried to force a claim on you, over and over, his teeth at your neck, tearing at skin. You’d refused him, denied him. You remembered bleeding. You remembered the pain, begging him to stop.

(You remembered Bucky holding you, carrying you to safety.)

“My... gland?” You said. “It’s gone?”

“I -” she took a slight breath, “- I’m afraid so.”

“What does that - I mean, how can I -” you tried desperately to understand what you wanted to ask, to understand what had been done to you and how it was going to affect you going forward.

“There’s no easy way to put this,” again she hesitated for a beat, “without your mating gland, you will never be able to be claimed or mated.”

The words left you feeling numb, even though some part of you didn’t really understand why. You’d never wanted to be claimed, never wanted to mate. You’d always tried so hard to reject the omega side of you but, now, you felt broken.

“But,” the doctor continued, her tone perking up a little, as if she wanted you to know it wasn’t the end of the world, “you’ll still be able to have a normal life; you’ll have your heats, you’ll still be able to bear pups. Though you may find your scenting is affected...”

Again, your mind drifted away from what she was saying, watching as her lips moved but not hearing a single word. Soon enough your gaze was drifting away from her, looking at the wall, at that garish OEC sign, hating that you were there.

You hated everything in that moment, every little thing that had led you to that point in your life. It felt like everything was unravelling and you had no idea how to stop it.

Your eyes snapped back to the doctor in time to catch her question.

“The alpha who came in with you is still in the waiting room, would you like to see him?”

Still? He’d been sat out there for two days?

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

“You don’t have to stay,” Bucky said, for at least the fiftieth time that day.

Since being patched up and checked over, Bucky had remained in the hospital waiting room, only receiving the barest of updates about you. He knew that you’d been taking into surgery straight away and that you’d been taking into recovery a few hours later, and they’d told him that you’d been kept under sedation so your heat symptoms didn’t cause complications, but that was all.

He had no idea the extent of your injuries or how effective surgery had been.

Of course, he understood that he wasn’t next of kin, that he was really nothing to you, but it frustrated him no end not knowing if you were really okay.

Sam had been home to sleep, and he’d tried to get Bucky to do the same. But there was nothing that anyone could say or do to get Bucky to leave that chair. He wouldn’t leave you, not again.

(Never again.)

“How about I stay and you go get some rest?” Sam countered. “I can call you if anything happens?”

“No,” Bucky answered, not even considering it. “I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re going to be no good to her if you make yourself ill, Bucky,” Sam answered back. “Just because you’ve got that cyborg brain doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.”

Normally he’d roll his eyes at Sam’s dumb jokes, maybe even say something pointed in response, but Bucky was tired. More than that, he was worried.

“This is my fault, Sam. I can’t just leave her.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You’re not the one who hurt her and beating yourself up over it isn’t going to help anyone, least of all her.”

Bucky shook his head. “I fucked up, Sam. I lost control. I tried to claim her when she didn’t want it and that makes me no better than Rumlow.”

In the time that they had spent in the waiting room together, Bucky had explained rather loosely what had happened between you and him, but it was clear to Sam that there was so much more to it.

“You stopped when she told you to. Rumlow didn’t,” Sam stated. “That’s a big fucking difference, Bucky.”

“I left her - she was in the middle of her heat and I -”

“You did what you thought you had to do to keep her safe.”

“But she wasn’t safe, was she? If she’d been safe, none of this would have happened.”

Bucky got to his feet and started to pace, not sure what else he could do with all of his nervous pent-up energy. Sam let out a sigh, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to stop Bucky from spiralling right now. He needed time to work through it, but he wasn’t going to allow himself that time until he knew for certain that you were alright.

Sam just hoped that moment would come sooner rather than later.

“They’ve finished processing Rumlow at The Raft,” he decided to change the subject. “After all the shit he’s pulled, he’s never going to see daylight again.”

“It’s still more than he deserves.”

“You still pissed I stopped you from killing him?”

“Yes,” Bucky snapped before pausing a beat. “No.” Then; “I don’t know.”

“That’s not you, Bucky. You’re not that guy.”

Not a killer. Not the Winter Soldier.

(But would the Winter Soldier have let this happen to you? No. The Winter Soldier would have kept you safe.)

“Maybe I -” Bucky started and stopped as the door to the waiting room opened and your doctor stepped inside.

Sam got to his feet, moving to stand beside Bucky.

“She’s groggy, but she’s finally awake,” she said.

“How is she?” Bucky asked.

The doctor took a breath before answering, deciding how much she was able to share.

“She’ll live. Thanks to you two,” she answered. “She’s recovering from the surgery well and there were no complications. Though she is going to have to remain under observation for at least the next couple of days.”

“Can I see her?” Bucky asked.

“She -” the doctor hesitated, “- she’s refused all visitors.”

“No, I need to see her. I need -”

“I understand your frustrations, but ultimately it’s the patient's choice, and given that she’s here because of injuries inflicted by an alpha -”

“That’s why I need to make sure she’s okay,” Bucky tried again, not even trying to hide his frustration.

“Bucky...” Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to give her time. She’s been through a lot.”

“I just -” his eyes flitted to the doctor who didn’t look like she was doing to change his mind. “You’re right,” Bucky conceded, not wanting to think about what Rumlow might have done to you and how you must have been feeling.

It turned his stomach inside out to think that you were less than a hundred metres away and he couldn’t get to you. Bucky ached to hold you in his arms again, to apologise for fucking so much up. More than anything, he wanted to confess to you, to tell you that it had never been about biology. It had always been you. He wanted you.

The doctor took a beat, her eyes moving from Bucky to Sam and back again.

“Normally this would be the part where I call the police to report crimes committed against an omega but...” she trailed off, looking at Sam. “Is that necessary with Captain America here?”

“No,” Sam answered. “Everyone involved has already been dealt with.”

“Good, no alpha who’s capable of doing that to an omega in heat should be allowed to walk the streets,” the doctor said.

For a moment Bucky had to wonder just how much she’d seen in her time working in the OEC, and he found himself reminded of everything you’d said about being an omega. Finally, he was starting to understand what it was really like for you. And, more than anything, he wanted to change it.

“Could you tell her that I’m sorry?” Bucky asked. “Tell her that I’m sorry I fucked up.”

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

Sorry. What part was he sorry for?

You didn’t have the heart to ask the doctor to check for you and, besides that, you were certain she had more important things to be doing than playing messenger between you and Bucky. Whatever he had meant by the comment, you were sure he wasn’t sorry about what you wanted him to be sorry for. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Bucky was an alpha.

Perhaps not the most traditional alpha, but you were almost certain that he had no idea why you’d run from him.

No, he wasn’t sorry about that, wasn’t sorry about reducing you to nothing more than a good little omega. He was sorry that you’d been hurt and, really, even you understood that wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

When the doctor delivered his message, she told you that he was still in the waiting room if you changed your mind and wanted to see him.

He was there the next day too.

And the next.

On more than one occasion you found yourself in tears, still devastated and reeling over what had been done to you. You almost broke, almost asked them to let Bucky in so that he could hold you and tell you that everything was going to be alright.

(It wasn’t. You already knew that it wasn’t.)

You mourned lost opportunities and things that might never have happened - things you’d never really wanted or expected in the first place.

So many times you’d wished not to be an omega and, now, it seemed like you weren’t even that.

And the real irony was Bucky, sitting out in the waiting room, not knowing that you’d been ruined, that you’d never belong to him now. You could already picture it, the pity in his eyes if he saw you again; the poor little omega.

The more time you were given to sit with your new reality, the worse you felt about it, the numbness of shock finally giving away and leaving you to feel the full extent of your trauma. You became despondent to the point that a psychiatrist was sent to assess you.

She asked about you, about your life, and about what had happened to you and, as you always did, you gave half the story and heard all of the things you expected to hear in response; it wasn’t your fault, you shouldn’t blame yourself.

You knew she was right, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things. It felt like it had been your fault. If you hadn’t let your guard down with Bucky, you would have stayed in the safehouse, you would have been able to finish your heat with him, and then you would have been able to leave, able to avoid Rumlow.

Instead you’d let yourself believe that there was something more than biology at play, you’d let yourself hope that he cared, that he saw you as more than just an omega. You’d allowed him the perfect opportunity to hurt you without him even realising it and all because you didn’t want to be a good little omega.

On the sixth day in the hospital, you were brought a bowl of Cookie Crunch cereal, the nurse telling you that the alpha in the waiting room had told him that it was your favourite. Whatever had been holding you together in that moment finally broke and you started to sob uncontrollably, hating that Bucky could care so much without knowing it was too late, and hating even more that he’d come to know you better than anyone had in years in just a few months.

He knew you.

He cared about you, in his own way.

And that just made your heart ache more, knowing that it was too late. Even if you could get over what had happened between you, why would Bucky ever want a damaged omega like you?

Still, every day you would ask if he was in the waiting room and it wasn’t until the eighth day that you were told that he’d left and hadn’t come back.

He’d finally given up on you.

It should have come as a relief knowing that he wasn’t still out there, hoping for a future that was impossible. He’d get over it, get over wanting to claim you, have you as his good little omega. And he deserved to because, as much as you might have hated him only a few weeks ago, you knew now that Bucky was a good man. A better man than you deserved.

You decided to leave the hospital that night, checking yourself out against the doctor's advice. You had no idea where you were going to go or what you were going to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there, couldn’t keep wallowing in your own trauma and self-loathing. You wanted to push it all away and bury it down, just like the first time you’d escaped from Rumlow.

Your apartment was still paid up until the end of the month so, you supposed, that would be the best place to start, even if it meant trying to dodge Bucky while you found somewhere else to live.

It was late when you got home.

His scent lingered in the hallway and caused your legs to tremble beneath you, and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze when you realised that your door had been repaired - someone had cared enough to make sure your apartment and your things were kept secure. It wasn’t something you expected and it made you think about what he’d told you, about how people cared.

You cast a longing glance at Bucky’s door, wondering if he was in there, if he was sleeping, if he was suffering through nightmares of finding you covered in blood. Part of you was desperate to go to him but you knew it was too late to say or do anything, too late to change anything. The time for talking had passed and none of it mattered anymore. You couldn’t be what Bucky wanted and he couldn’t give you what you needed.

If you were lucky, you’d be able to save you both the heartache of having to face each other again.

End Note : 😭 I can't believe this story is almost over. I think the next chapter will be the last. I don't know if it'll need an epilogue, but we'll see. Hopefully the next/last chapter will be up by the end of November (it should be quicker to write that this one, I'm just hella bad/slow at writing action). Also I'm really tired so so I'm sorry if any dumb typos slipped through

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

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