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Cavewoman: A Night Out One-Shot Special Cover Art by Budd Root
#cavewoman#hot#virgin cover art#textless#comic art#comic#highres#budd root#with/without colour#meriem cooper#toned female#one-shot comic#Cavewoman: A Night Out#navel#melon
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SEVEN DAYS
x2!logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: desperate!logan, eating reader out, fingering, squirting?
masterlist
the mission was only supposed to last for two days. forty-eight hours and he would return home to you. instead it was dragged out much longer than it needed to be.
logan wanted nothing more than to be home in your arms instead of a motel room alone, painfully hard, trying to tune out scott snore on the other side of the wall.
so, on thursday afternoon when him, scott, and storm returned to the mansion, logan wasted no time hunting you down. he could smell you the second he walked through the front door; you were in charles office. charles, hank, jean, and you were meeting to discuss a new experiment when logan bursts through the door.
"logan! pleasure for you to join us." hank announces.
your head snaps up from your scribbling to see that your lover has returned safely. he looked like a lion ready to pounce on a naivĂŤ little lamb.
"just came by to pick something up." logan answers, ignoring everyone else in the room as he made a b-line for you.
"hey, babyâ"
within seconds, logan lifts you up over his shoulder and out of the leather seat. you squeal, dropping your notepad and pen. your kitten heels kick his abs as your squirm in his arms.
"logan!" you hiss, swatting his toned back as he turns around to walk out of the room, unphased. "what the hell! put me down!"
he ignores you, pulling down your dress to cover your behind from your co-workers. no one was shocked by logan's actions. the man wasn't a patient person by any means. they all watched as you left over logan's shoulder, face blushing with embarrassment.
when logan finally shut your guys bedroom door, he placed you down on the edge of your bed; yet to say a word to you. instead, he falls straight to his knees in front of you. his big callous hands, rubs the soft skin of your inner thighs, opening your legs.
logan couldn't help but moan when he saw the pretty lacy light blue panties you were wearing. you could see the neediness in his eyes as he licked his lips. before he can remove your underwear, you cradle his face in your much smaller palms.
"you alright, baby?" you ask, looking down at him.
similarly to a cat, logan rubs the scruff of his beard against your thigh, pressing his nose against the thin panties; inhaling the scent of your arousal. you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp softly before your fingers tugging on the kitten tuffs, making him whimper against your pussy.
"mhm..." he manages to say. "i missed you."
"aw, i missed youâ"
"missed your scent, your lips, your mouth..." his words are muffled as he kisses you messily over the lace. "missed this fuckin' pussy so much."
you gasp when he pulls down the soaked material and moves back for a second to look at you. he spreads you apart with his thumbs, watching you twitch and clench at the cool air hitting your pussy. she was warm, wet, and welcoming to him. logan couldn't imagine a better way to spend the rest of his day.
"there's my favorite girl." logan smiles before spitting right on your button and latching his mouth onto you. you moan loudly as he talks to your pussy, acting as if you weren't even in the room.
"you've missed me too, huh, pretty girl?" he moans incoherently as his tongue runs over core.
it's a struggle to keep your eyes open but it was worth the sight of logan's head in between your legs. the noises he made with your slick were unbelievably lewd.
"must've missed me a lot." you giggle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps your legs around his head.
"you've got not fuckin' idea." he mumbles into your folds. spit and slick pooled onto the sheets that laid under you as logan feasted.
logan looks up at you and fears he might cum just from the image of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth slightly parted as you sing his praise of 'right there, logan!', 'such a good boy for me'.
the 'good boy' comment threw logan's mind into a frenzy. he needed to hear you. he needed to be surrounded by your presence. two of his fingers dip into you, fast and rough. your thighs squeeze his head, threatening to pop it right off his body.
there was no time to warn him before your high hit. logan slurped up every bit of honey you had to offer him. you reach down for the hand that wasn't busy locating your sweet spot and place it on your tit. logan could feel your heartbeat and it only sent him further on his spiral, adding a third finger and repeatedly hitting that spot that made you see fireworks.
"i c-can't, logan" you mewl, wiggling back from logan's tongue. he catches you, latching back onto your button. "it's too m-much!"
"she's takin' me just fine." his voice is muffled against you in the dirtiest way possible.
the pressure builds in your tummy. there were no words in your brain at this point, moaning and babbling about nothing.
"that's the spot, huh?" he groan, smirking up at you. logan's fingers twist up, slamming against that gummy spot deep in your walls.
the motion caused you to let out more slick than you ever had before, gushing on logan's face. you can hear him curse as he licks you clean.
âitâs only been seven days, you know?â you giggle, trying to catch your breath.
he climbs up your body to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself. you moan into his mouth, as logan grinds down on you, needing more.
âseven days too long, sweetheart.â
âË⧠︾âżâŕ˝ŕ˝˛ŕ˝ŕž ŕ˝ŕ˝˛ŕ˝ŕžââżď¸ľ â§Ëâ
a/n: just something short n sweet before i post part 2 of dad!logan x teacher!reader <3
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman wolverine#wolverine#wolverine angst#wolverine fluff#wolverine one shot#wolverine x oc#logan wolverine#logan howlett angst#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#old man logan#old man logan x reader#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#marvel mcu#mcu#hugh jackman#wolverine x you#x men comics#x men
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Hyped bf showing worried gf some cool tricks
(I HATE DRAWING BACKGROUNDS)
Also, i watched Deadpool and Wolverine yesterday and didnât see the long, passionate make out sesh,,, did i miss it?
#art#drawing#zelda fanart#legend of zelda#digital art#link#fanart#zelda#link fanart#princess zelda#totk#botw#totk zelda#domestic#tricks#comic#one shot#background#zelink#the legend of zelda#link loz#my art#sunder
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pe ru so na
#MY ART#I SPENT FOREVER ON THIS#persona 3#persona 3 reload#makoto yuki#okay so while it is super iconic I didn't want to draw someone with a gun to their head (love it in P3 love the symbolism#just dont want to explain it all to my mum or have non persona fans see it at my booth at comic con)#so I was forced to get creative#I hope this comes across#but I wanted to imply he just shot that bullet hole into the background that makes thanatos' eye#the bullet hole also sort of looks like a big glint of than's eye#those white parts on the white are than's hand curling around the MC#and I tried to make the colour scheme CYMK to symbolise how the MC is the wildcard#he is the blueprint and can make anything.#a lot of thought and effort went into this one. persona 3 baby!! hope you like it
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warning: age!gap (reader is in her 20s, Logan is in his 40s)
Űśâ˘ŕ§
Logan loves your thighs.
Logan locked eyes on you all along, from the very first day you had joined the x men as a mutant.
You had tried to have control over yourself many times, not give in with the wolverine for he was much older than you.
Though harmless flirting couldn't harm anyone, you believed. There would be plenty days where you would play along with his fancy words he'd utter, trying to get a reaction out of you, fluster you next to others.
It turned into a brittle, passive-aggresive game easily. If he was trying to get under your skin by putting you into tough situations next to others, you were going to do the same.
One day he was in the kitchen of the apartment you were in for a quick meeting together in washington with the others, he was sipping a cup of water as he put it on the countertop, his hands resting on it. You had to grab yourself something to eat quickly as you hadn't eaten a piece all day. You had to reach to a cupboard he was standing infront of, when you murmured "Logan, could you-" softly and before even letting him move even a little, you got infront of him as your ass grinded against his jeans and he had to take a step back as he looked down at your hair. He smelled in your perfume, for a second he had to close his eyes, not letting his animal urges control him when you were obviously doing this on purpose. He was fine with it all when he had set eyes upon you, looking at you like a piece of his favorite meal and working towards having it, nevertheless, you had never responded back for quite a time but once you did, he had your game figured out. Yet it was only driving him more insane.
The way you'd wear the skimpiest shorts and skirts and bend over infront him on a windy day, the way your thighs would be much times larger when you sat down, the way you were inside of his head all times and he wouldn't complain, the way your eyes would form that special look of yours you'd have whenever you flirted with someone else, the way your hair would look after a shower, the way your skin send off a radiant, pure, angelic smell and the way it was so soft and he'd get a feel of them whenever you'd stand next to eachother, the way yours would graze his. All of this would cause him to want more of you, crave you and your body and everything of you.
You couldn't believe yourself how you'd feel a flicker of jealousy sparkling inside of you whenever you'd see him with other women. Whenever he'd have one next to him, entering his own room at a random hotel you stayed.
"Busy as ever, huh?" You'd joke
He would raise his eyes and point the woman he was with in an insinuating manner. He was a charming man after all, women would drool all over him as he knew how to have his way with them.
The second he was out of sight, your smile would drop leaving you with a stoned face. You'd keep working on your plans to shrug off the distracting thoughts in the lobby.
One of those days, you found yourself on his bed all dazed, all eager for his hands on you. "I've finally managed to steal you for the night, baby." He'd say slowly as he was undoing his belt and jeans.
He loved stretching you out with his girth, he loved making you watch yourself take him all in on a mirror, or a with video he begged to take. The more you would take him deep in your cunt, the more your eyes would roll back, so overwhelmed with him in you, the way he forced you to have an eye contact with him, the way he wanted nothing but to study your face and expressions as he was balls deep in you, going deeper and deeper. The way your cunt released juices, coating his cock and wetting down your thighs.
The way you'd whimper, the way you'd moan, the way you'd stutter his name between shaky breaths, the way your brows would crease against his touch would make him lose it.
And oh did he adore your thighs.
Some mornings you'd get ready together to go wherever you were needed. You'd put on your panties on first and before even letting you put on anything else he'd call for you.
You'd go to the room he would be in, he'd usually be sitting down on a chair next to the bed, topless. He'd wrap his hands around your waist, right above your hips as he'd bury his face at the bottom of your stomach and he'd stay like that for a few seconds as you'd run your fingers through his hair and feel his beard tickling your belly, and his strongs arms welcoming you in.
He'd place kisses on the front of your thighs as one of his hands would be grabbing your ass.
Sometimes he'd find you lying down on his bed, he'd sit down at the end of it, eyes deviantly roaming your legs. And then he'd pull you to himself by grabbing your thighs, with his body placed between two of your legs, he'd lean in, gripping your thighs as he'd travel his kisses up your body, from your thighs to your lips.
He'd bite your inner thighs softly time to time, enough to make your face grimace but nothing more as he'd chuckle while his head being buried between your thighs.
#logan howlett#logan howlet smut#logan howlett wolverine#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett oneshot#logan howlett smut#logan howlett drabble#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett fic#logan howlett headcanon#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett blurb#wolverine#wolverine imagine#wolverine one shot#wolverine smut#wolverine drabble#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine fic#wolverine headcanons#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x female reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine comics#wolverine claws#wolverine marvel
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babs study
#barbara gordon#dc comics#oracle dc#birds of prey#batman#salt.png#based off that one shot of scully in the x files
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BET
⤡ JAMES B. âBUCKYâ BARNES
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Pairing: James B. âBuckyâ Barnes x fem!reader
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Genre: romance, angst and fluff
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Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo
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Story type: one shot
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Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)
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Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.
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TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene
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AU: college au
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Request: not requested
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Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)
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Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)
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MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)
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Masterlist
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If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!
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English isnât my first language and this isnât proof read
The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows heâs going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, whichâbased on the collection of red solo cups by their feetâmight be a while.
Theyâre all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Buckyâs arm, catching his attention.
âBet you couldnât last a month with someone like her,â Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.
Bucky glances up, following Samâs gaze until he spots you. Youâre perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. Heâs seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. Thereâs something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know heâs more the type to go for a party girlâsomeone loud, someone who doesnât ask too many questions.
âWhat, the bookworm?â Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends donât let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.
âYouâre always chasing the same type,â Steve chimes in. âWhat are you afraid of, that sheâd actually challenge you?â
Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge thatâs always lurking just beneath his smirk.
âAll right,â Bucky finally says, shrugging. âIâll do it. One month.â
His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomachâa feeling heâs not used to. He brushes it off. Itâs just a game, a challenge. Itâs not like heâs actually going to care.
The next day, youâre tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesnât match the usual quiet of the space.
âMind if I join you?â His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.
You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Youâve seen him around campusâheâs hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.
âSure,â you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. Youâre used to people mostly ignoring you here. Itâs your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.
âYou look like youâre buried in work,â he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. âWhatâs got you so busy?â
You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. âJustâŚassignments. Trying to keep up with everything.â You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.
âWhatâs your major?â he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people donât bother to ask; they assume or donât care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, youâre telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.
It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into youâat the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, youâre wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.
And Bucky? Heâs surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. Thereâs a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isnât supposed to mean anything.
But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like heâs someone worth knowing.
He tells himself itâs just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows heâs starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.
Itâs been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, heâs found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself itâs harmlessâheâs just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows heâs lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.
One night, back at the frat house, heâs lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.
âSo, Barnes. Howâs it going with the bookworm?â Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isnât so easily deterred. âDonât tell me youâre catching feelings.â
Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. âItâs going fine. Like I said, a monthâs no problem.â
Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. âLetâs make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, youâve got to take it further.â
Buckyâs jaw clenches. âFurther?â He has a bad feeling about where this is going.
Steve raises his eyebrows. âCome on, Buck. Youâve been hanging out with her, sure, but weâre talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you knowââ He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.
âSleep with her,â Sam adds bluntly, laughing. âSeal the deal, and thereâs two hundred bucks in it for you.â
Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself itâs just a stupid bet. Heâs done things like this beforeâgotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. Heâs Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesnât do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feelâŚoff.
âFine,â he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty heâs trying to ignore. âTwo hundred bucks. Done.â
The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.
When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. Itâs been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since youâve felt genuinely excited about someone. Buckyâs been different from the startâwarm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. Youâve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.
After a second, you type back, Yeah, Iâd love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.
The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.
âYou look amazing,â he says, his gaze warm. Thereâs something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.
âThanks,â you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldnât have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.
The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, thereâs something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way thatâs both thrilling and terrifying.
After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon youâre strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.
âYou know, I donât think Iâve ever been on a date this nice,â you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.
He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. âReally? I find that hard to believe.â
You shrug, trying to brush it off. âI guess Iâve just neverâŚmet anyone like you before.â
Thereâs a flash of something in his eyesâguilt, maybe, or regret. But itâs gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.
âYouâre pretty amazing, you know that?â he murmurs, his voice low.
You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment youâve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.
But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what heâs doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and itâs enough to make his stomach turn. Heâs never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.
âHey,â he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. âYou trust me, right?â
Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. âYeah,â you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.
He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. âGood,â he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if heâs going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it mattersâthat he wonât let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows heâs lying to himself.
The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like theyâre happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like thereâs this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.
Every time youâre with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if heâs sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when heâs not lookingâat the way his jaw clenches when heâs lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you canât quite name.
Itâs after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you heâs got some old movies youâve probably never seen, and, honestly, heâs rightâyouâd never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but thatâs exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon youâre sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.
The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.
âYou can get closer, you know,â he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.
Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until youâre tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent thatâs becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.
Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more datesâlittle coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you canât breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.
One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, heâs stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you canât help but notice how natural this feels. Itâs terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if heâs always been there.
You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.
âYouâre terrible,â you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though youâre laughing too.
âOh, come on. It was hilarious,â he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. âI justâŚcanât believe youâre real sometimes.â
The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, youâre too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.
As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. Heâs there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. Heâs there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he canât believe his luck.
One night, youâre back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. Youâre nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and heâs quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.
âBucky?â you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.
âHmm?â he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.
âThank you,â you say, your voice barely a whisper. âFor everything.â
He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. âYou donât have to thank me for that,â he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. âBeing with youâŚitâs the easiest thing in the world.â
You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like heâs savoring every second. Itâs moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, youâre finally safe with someone, that this is something real.
But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. Heâs never felt this way beforeâthis calm, thisâŚconnected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.
Heâs supposed to ask for more. Thatâs what Sam and Steve were expecting, werenât they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he canât turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that heâs crossing a line he canât uncross.
He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he canât bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe youâll never have to know.
One evening, as youâre lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.
âBucky?â you whisper, your voice soft.
He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. âYeah?â
You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. âIâŚI think Iâm falling for you.â
The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.
âYou have no idea how much that means to me,â he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.
She deserves the truth.
That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that heâs in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much heâs risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but heâs terrifiedâterrified that this fragile, beautiful thing youâve built together will shatter, that youâll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.
In the morning, he makes a decision. Heâll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.
So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
âItâs beautiful,â you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.
âYeah,â he replies, his voice soft. âIt is.â
But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows thereâs a chance heâll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.
For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, youâll understand.
The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if itâs his own. He knows he should say somethingâthat he needs to say somethingâbut the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever heâs built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.
As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.
Once youâre inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than youâve ever seen it. "You donât have to stay if you donât want to,â he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.
âI want to,â you say, the words escaping before you can even think. Thereâs no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.
Buckyâs eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if youâre something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss thatâs softer than any before. Itâs unhurried, tender, as if heâs savoring every second.
The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until thereâs no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.
Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. Thereâs a gentleness to Buckyâs movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if heâs memorizing every inch of you. Heâs slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.
âAre you okay?â he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.
You nod, feeling breathless but certain. âIâve never been more sure of anything.â
His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then heâs kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feelâsafe, wanted, like youâre the only thing in the world that matters.
When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, youâre exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.
Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.
Youâre both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each otherâs presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something youâve been holding back, something you hadnât planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.
âBucky,â you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if youâre the only thing he sees. âIâŚI want you to know that this was my first time.â
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, youâre afraid heâll pull away, that heâll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesnât flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.
âYour first?â he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.
You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. âYeahâŚI wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.â
Buckyâs chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like heâs just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.
âYou have no idea how much that means to me,â he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Thereâs a vulnerability in his gaze, as if heâs holding back a hundred things he wants to say but canât find the words for.
You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. âThank you, BuckyâŚfor making it so special.â
He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like heâs afraid to let you go. âIâd do anything to make you feel special,â he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.
You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.
But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything heâs kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness youâve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.
He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that heâs already crossed a line he canât uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truthâsoon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.
But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.
The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like heâs exactly where heâs meant to be.
You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.
âGood morning,â you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.
He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âMorning,â he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.
The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of himâthe playful, thoughtful sideâis something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.
Youâre both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.
It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like youâve found a place thatâs safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.
But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if thereâs something heâs not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You donât press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if youâre seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something youâre not yet ready to confront.
As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if heâs trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. Thereâs an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isnât the end.
Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book youâre pretty sure youâll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. Youâre nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.
As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Buckyâs laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voiceâSamâsâcutting through, low and joking.
"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Samâs voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if heâs talking about something trivial.
You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.
"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, âdonât act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.â You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. âSo? How was it?â
Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesnât argue. âYeah, yeah,â he says, his voice casual, light. âIt was⌠good.â
You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet donât move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.
Steveâs voice joins in, chuckling. âWell, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?â
âNo clue,â Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when heâs nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.
Sam laughs again, louder this time. âAnd hey, betâs a bet,â he says, and then thereâs a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. âTwo hundred dollars, as promised. Canât say you didnât earn it, thoughâyou even managed to get her into bed. Didnât think you had it in you, but here we are!â
Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Buckyâs earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust youâd handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.
Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You donât let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.
Hours later, youâre back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe thereâs an explanation youâre missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.
A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Buckyâs voice calling your name softly from the hallway. Itâs just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that somethingâs wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.
When you open it, Buckyâs eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. âHey, you,â he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. âWhatâs wrong?â
For a moment, you canât bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.
âWere you even going to tell me?â Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. âOr were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?â
Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. âTell you what? IâI donât understand.â
A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if itâll keep you from falling apart. âDonât play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.â
He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. âY/N, IâI didnât⌠I didnât mean for you to find out like this.â
The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. âSo, itâs true, then? All of it? This whole⌠this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?â
He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. âY/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasnât like that, I swear. It started that way, but then⌠then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we sharedâit was real.â
You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. âReal? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what youâve done?â Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. âI trusted you, Bucky. I thought⌠I thought you cared about me.â
His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. âI do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. Thatâs why I wanted to tell you, I justââ
âWanted to tell me?â you interrupt, your voice shaking. âWhen, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?â
The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Buckyâs shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.
âDo you even realize how humiliating this is?â you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. âI trusted you with something⌠something Iâd never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.â
His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. âIt was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just⌠I didnât want to lose you.â
âYou didnât want to lose me?â you repeat, laughing bitterly. âYou lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to⌠to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.â
He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. âY/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.â
âJust stop,â you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. âYou donât get to do this. You donât get to make me feel sorry for you when youâre the one who lied.â
Buckyâs face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. âI know. I know I donât deserve your forgiveness. But please, just⌠give me a chance to make it right.â
Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you donât know if you can ever look at him the same way again.
âI canât do this,â you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. âI canât just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I donât even know who you are anymore.â
He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. âI understand. Iâll⌠Iâll leave, if thatâs what you want.â
You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.
âFor what itâs worth, Y/N⌠I love you. I know I donât deserve to say that, but itâs the truth.â
You donât reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.
The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like youâre on autopilot. Itâs as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.
It doesnât take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if youâre okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each timeâa nod, a small smile, and an assurance that youâre just tired. Itâs easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.
Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when heâd whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.
Bucky isnât doing any better. In fact, heâs a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptinessâit lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didnât know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesnât blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.
Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy theyâd known for years, looks hollow, as if heâs carrying a weight he canât shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.
One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesnât answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
âHey, man,â Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Buckyâs bed.
Bucky doesnât react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.
âWhatâs up, guys?â he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.
âWe should be asking you that,â Steve says, his tone softer than usual. âYou havenât been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, itâs like⌠youâre a completely different person.â
At the sound of your name, Buckyâs face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. âYeah,â he says quietly, almost to himself. âThatâs because I am.â
Sam frowns, studying Buckyâs expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. âLook, man, we didnât mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared⌠why didnât you just tell her the truth from the start?â
Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. âI donât know,â he whispers, his voice breaking. âI was scared, I guess. I knew Iâd screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just⌠couldnât. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.â He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. âStupid, right?â
Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. âNot stupid, just⌠a mistake. A big one, yeah, but youâre not the first guy to mess up. Youâre just⌠Bucky, this isnât like you. Iâve never seen you like this over anyone before.â
Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âThatâs because Iâve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I canât even fix.â
Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. âSo what are you gonna do about it? You canât just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to herâand to yourselfâto try and make it right.â
Bucky laughs, but itâs empty, hollow. âAnd how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesnât know who I am. She doesnât trust me. I donât deserve another chance.â
Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, âMaybe. But you canât just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that youâre not just the guy who hurt her, that youâre willing to fight for her. And if she doesnât take you back⌠at least youâll know you tried.â
Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. âI donât know if sheâll ever forgive me. I donât even know if I deserve it.â
Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. âLook, man, I get that youâre hurting. But donât you think sheâs hurting, too? Sheâs probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.â
Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows youâre hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didnât deserve. And knowing that heâs the reason for your pain⌠itâs a feeling he wouldnât wish on anyone.
Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that heâs truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. Heâs terrified, but he canât ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.
Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesnât know if youâll listen, doesnât know if youâll even give him a chance. But he has to tryâto give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that youâll give him the chance to show you that heâs not the man who hurt youâthat heâs ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.
The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but itâs enough to pull you from your thoughts. Youâve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty thatâs almost heartbreaking. Heâs gripping a small notebook in his handsâyour notebook, the one you left in his roomâand his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation youâve never seen before.
âHi,â he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You donât reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you donât. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.
âHi,â you reply, your voice guarded.
He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. âI, uh⌠you left this. Thought you might need it.â
You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. âThanks.â
A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way youâve never seen before.
âCan we⌠can we talk?â he asks, his voice almost pleading. âPlease. I know I donât deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you donât want to listen, Iâll understand, and Iâll leave you alone. I just⌠I need you to know the truth.â
You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.
For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
âI know you have every right to hate me,â he starts, his voice barely steady. âI know I messed up in ways I canât even fix. And I know⌠I know what I did was horrible. I justââ He swallows, his throat tight. âI just need you to know that it wasnât all a lie. When we started this⌠when we first got close, I didnât expect any of this to happen. I didnât think Iâd feel the way I did.â
You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. âBut it was a bet, Bucky,â you murmur, your voice trembling. âYou⌠you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.â
He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. âI know. I wonât make excuses for itâI was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started⌠I started caring about you, more than Iâve ever cared about anyone.â
You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. âThen why didnât you just tell me the truth?â
He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. âBecause I was scared. I was terrified that youâd look at me the way youâre looking at me now, that Iâd lose you. I know that doesnât make it better, but itâs the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe⌠maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.â He looks down, his voice breaking. âBut that was stupid. I shouldâve just been honest with you from the start.â
You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything heâs saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. âI trusted you, Bucky,â you whisper, your voice barely audible. âI thought⌠I thought what we had was real.â
He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. âIt was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesnât change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and Iâll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if youâll let me.â
You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that heâs truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.
âBucky,â you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, âI canât just go back to how things were. I canât pretend this didnât happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and itâs going to take time for me to get past that.â
He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesnât look away. âI understand. And I donât expect you to forgive me right away. I just⌠I just want the chance to prove to you that Iâm more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we canât go back, I want to be there for you, even if itâs just as a friend.â
You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you canât rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, heâll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.
âMaybeâŚâ You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. âMaybe we can start as friends. Just⌠friends. No promises, no expectations. If youâre willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up��� then maybe, someday, Iâll be able to trust you again.â
Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. âIâll take that. Anything youâre willing to give, Iâll take it. Iâll prove to you that I can be better. Iâll prove that Iâm worth your trust.â
You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. Itâs small and fragile, but itâs enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.
Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. Youâre surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that heâs serious about making things right.
Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if heâs seeing something precious he thought heâd lost forever. Itâs in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.
One day, as youâre both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. âI know weâre just friends right now, and Iâm okay with that. But I want you to know that Iâm grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if itâs just like this.â
You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you havenât felt in a long time. âThank you, Bucky,â you say softly. âFor not giving up. For being patient with me.â
He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. âIâll wait as long as it takes. Iâll prove to you that Iâm here for you, no matter what.â
And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lostâa tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person heâs trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know thereâs a long road ahead, youâre finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he wonât let you down.
The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. Itâs your first time back here since everything happened, and you canât deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels differentâBucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.
Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. Heâs proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. Heâs become someone you can lean on, someone whoâs earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between youâsomething deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.
When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, Theyâre harmless.
âGlad you came tonight,â he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. âI was worried you might skip.â
You shrug, glancing up at him. âWell, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.â
He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. Itâs the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even betterâbecause youâre finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.
As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. Heâs attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure youâre comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.
At one point, as youâre talking with a friend, you feel Buckyâs hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. âWant to get some air?â
You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.
âIâve been wanting to tell you something,â he begins, his voice low and steady, as if heâs thought about this moment a thousand times. âI know weâve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N⌠being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I canât stop thinking about you. About us.â
Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing thatâs been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.
âBucky,â you say softly, stepping a little closer. âI⌠I feel the same. Itâs been hard, letting go of the past. But I thinkâno, I knowâIâve forgiven you. Youâve shown me who you really are, and⌠I like that person.â
His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure youâre truly ready for this.
âCan I kiss you?â he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.
You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, itâs like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. Itâs gentle at first, tentative, as if heâs afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.
When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile thatâs equal parts relief and joy.
âY/N,â he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, âI promise, Iâm not going to mess this up again. I want this with youâfor real, no games.â
You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. âGood, because youâre stuck with me now.â
He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you havenât felt in a long time. Youâre finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, itâs real.
maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol
#amethyst arachnid#comics#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#movies#gaming#x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier#the winter soldier#bucky barnes#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns imagine#bucky barns x y/n#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan#angst#light angst#angst with a happy ending#one shot
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Period Sex with Logan is like:
A/N: this was requested!! Anyway, I've offically moved house and am all settled in so now it's time for some smut writing. Trying a new style of writing as well, let me know what you think. this is more like imagines. short n sweet. Pls pls pls give me more requests like this, I love them and appreciate them.
18+, for mature audiences only.
Most people think that he doesn't like it due to his advanced sense of smell but on the contrary.Â
He loves it.Â
He usually starts off slowly, peppering your body with kisses
Letting you feel good as he understands you could be in pain
But once he hears you begging to go faster, rougherÂ
There is no stopping that man, no no noÂ
Heâll do anything to make his girl feel good.Â
And heâll do it in any position you find comfortable.Â
From the back, you on top, reverse cowgirl style?Â
Itâs your week, he lets you do it however you like.Â
When it comes to eating you out, however, boy is that man feral.Â
He doesnât want to admit it but he loves the taste
Most people think itâs gross but not Mr Howlett,Â
Youâre like water and heâs been thirsty his entire life.Â
Lapping at your pussy like a man starved.Â
And when you squirt all over his face, that makes the man all that more feral for you.Â
The bottom line is that he loves you and just wants you to feel good and sexy no matter the time of the month.
#fluff#logan howlett x reader#one shot#smut#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#deadpool#logan howlett#james logan howlett#hugh jackman#deadpool movie#deadpool 3#deadpool fanart#deadpool x reader#deadclaws#wade wilson#poolverine#logan wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine fanart#james howlett#xmen fanart#x men#x men movies#x men comics#xmen movies#logan x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett smut
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Tiny skk Thunderstorm Megacomic: part 1 (here â) - part 2
(continued under the cut)
part 2
#watch nawy draw what should have been a 5k one-shot because nawy doesn't write!!!!!#this is the single most self-indulgent thing i have ever done#please enjoy đđ#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd fanart#tiny skk adventures#bsd dazai#bsd dazai osamu#bsd chuuya#bsd nakahara chuuya#skk#soukoku#nawy's comics#there's no way this will load and show on the dash but come on tumblr i believe in u
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"There are more of us than you think"
The ghost boy floated infront on Batman. All he wanted was to offer this kid some help. He has been deffending this town for a little over two years now with no help. So Batman just thought offering some training and other teen heros to help would be nice. But all he was met with was a cold hard stare. It wasn't a lookxof hatred, or anger, just disappointment.
"What?" He asked. For once in his life he didn't get it. What did he mean? 'There are more of us' more half ghosts like him? Multiples of him?
"What I mean Batman, is there are far more teen heros than you think. There are so many kids who were left to deffend their homes by themselves. I'm in contact with plenty of people like me. I don't need your charity work. We dont need it," Phantom took a deap breth, "so many kids had to save the world while the Justice League sat back and did nothing. Ben Tennyson has been saving the world since he was ten, a child soldier and the only effective weapon the Plumbers have. The Ninja over in Norrisville was given his powers at fourteen. Max Steel was fused with an alien and born with nuclear levels of power. The list goes on bats. Kim Possible, Jenny, Generator Rex, Zak Saturday. We all did just fine without you and your League."
Batman was speechless. That many? That many kids left to deffend their homes? Phantom obviously seemed to have contact with them, maybe they help eachother out, but still. How did the Justice League not know?
Phantom disappeared and left Batman to ponder his words alone. How many world ending events did thease kids fight? How many of them did they fight alone? How much help did each of them have? Phantom only has a niche group of allies, how small are their support groups?
He'll have to research this when he returns to the bat cave. Hopefully he can get all thease kids get the help they need. Set up Zeta Tubes in their cities, and end this awful epidemic of teen heros.
#dp x dc#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc x dp prompt#dcxdp#ben ten#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja#max steel#kim possible#my life as a teenage robot#zak saturday#generator rex#prompt#writing#one shot#batman#dc comics#text post
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The Gala
Jason Todd x reader one-shot
Summary:Â It was supposed to be simple. Just accompany Jason to the party. It was also supposed to be quick. Just go in, talk to a few people, and out. But then, you find yourself meeting your boyfriend's family.
Word Count:Â 9.3K
Category:Â Fluff (established relationship) and a tiny, tiny little bit of angst
Warnings: Rich people?? Bahahsjsjs Mentions of alcohol
Authorâs note: My Wayne gala fic debut (with a super original title, I know jskdks), hope you like it!
You look at yourself once again in the mirror. The truth is that you love the image that looks back at you. You feel comfortable and true to yourself, as well as beautiful. The dress that youâre wearing playing a big part in it. Your fingers slowly trace the hem of the bright red of the soft fabric.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You know that the dress probably wonât live up to the standard of the women that will be at the place but for you, itâs beautiful and elegant, making you feel like a seven year old girl wearing her favorite princess dress and giving you the confidence that you will need tonight.
Even if the style of the dress is not as chic or as sophisticated as others, youâre sure that the red will stand out. The thought increases your nerves. You donât usually wear red but when you saw this dress you knew that you had to buy it, you could easily see yourself in it. And also, you couldnât wait to see Jasonâs reaction.
You knew that he would love it, or so you hoped. He always liked it when you wore red, or anything for that matter. No matter how you looked he always looked at you with the same silly smile and caring eyes. But there was something in wanting to see him swoon all over you. You smile thinking of him. Even if the night ends in a disaster, you both will be at each other's side.
Just as you do a little spin to see the movement of your skirt just a bit up your knees, the doorbell rings. When you open the door Jason is looking around stressfully, breathing heavily, his hands alternating on running through his hair as if trying to fix it and adjusting his tie. He doesnât seem to notice that you have opened the door.
âHey,â you say softly. He turns to you.
âHi,â he says breathlessly in return, and by the way that heâs taking you in, you can tell that it isnât for the same reason as before. You look down shyly and put a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You then take him in, and to say that youâre not ready for the full sight in front of you is an understatement. Jason was already handsome but to see him in a suit⌠Your insides are doing crazy things.
âY/N, you look⌠incredible.â
âThank you.â You take a small step and on your toes you give him a kiss on the cheek. âI have to say that you look great. I think that I could get used to seeing you in a suit.â He smiles warmly but suddenly he seems to come out of his daze.
âListen, Iâm so sorry Iâm late and that I kept you waiting. I got caught up before and then this stupid tie wouldnât work with me andâŚâ You shush him softly with a kiss and then shake your head.
âDonât worry, I just got finished too.â
He sighs in relief, and then, with a life of their own, before you can help yourself, your hands lift to fix his hair to give it his usual style but less messy, although as always, the white streak stays as rebel as ever. Your hands slide down his neck to the lapels of his jacket and then adjust his tie that was crooked to the left.
âYou know how to do that?â he says, referring to the tie.
âNot really. I have just always wanted to do that. You know, like in movies and so.â You canât help but giggle a bit while you say that.
âWell, that makes two of us.â He takes your hands and places a kiss on them. You sigh happily, the soft gesture making you melt. Youâre sure that this man is going to be the death of you. The care and affection with which he always touches and looks at you was both deadly and invigorating. âReady?â
âI think so.â
âBecause if not, you know that I wouldnât mind one bit to stay here and take a more careful look at this gorgeous dress.â His hands find your waist and after a peck on your lips, his own meet your neck.
âI know. And thatâs why we have to get going, weâre already late.â You put a hand in his chest to place some distance with the temptation of his lips, that now are pouting.
ââA queen is never late, everyone else is simply early,ââ he deadpans.
A laugh threatens to escape from your throat. âYou just did not.â
âWhat?â he says feigning innocence, but the smirk on his lips gives him away.
âYou just did not quote the queen of Genovia,â you say amused.
âOkay, first, Julie Andrews is always right. And second, you were the one that showed me that masterpiece so, you should have seen it coming.â Heâs grinning from ear to ear. You wish that you could always see him like this. So happy and carefree.
âCan't say that youâre not right,â you reply while hugging him, resting your head on his chest and letting his calming scent surround you.
He then takes your face in his hands and with your noses touching he whispers, âI love you.âÂ
Your smile at those words never faltered. âI love you too.â
When you two reach the manor Jason drives past the main gate and goes directly to the secondary one that leads to the back entrance of the manor in order to avoid all the fancy cars and limos that litter the road of the main one.
Even from outside you can tell that the party is already in full swing, the windows of the main living room that in these cases often transforms into a dance hall, the only ones with light in them and cluttered with people.
Jason parks the car but his hands do not leave the steering wheel. His grip tightens and untightens around it as he takes a deep breath and looks towards the back door of the manor. You know well how even though the manor is a home to Jason, in events like this it almost feels like a cage.
âHey,â you whisper softly while you take his hands into yours. Immediately, Jasonâs eyes leave the manor and turn towards you. âItâs gonna be okay. Iâm here. And itâll be quick, we just have to show face for a little while, just like we talked about. And then as fast as weâre in, weâll be out,â you reassure him while softly rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs.
Jason gulps and nods, trying to will the nerves away, though his hands have stopped flexing and now lay relaxed in your grip ever since you touched them.
âOr we can leave right now. Forget all this. Spend the evening alone, just you and me. Maybe even some Batburger?â you tease with a smile, letting him know that he always has an out with you. Your calming words seem to work as a small chuckle leaves him and he lifts your hands to kiss them once again.
He shakes his head.
You tilt yours. âYou sure?â
âYeah. I just needed a moment. Besides, if I donât go in Iâll never hear the end of it. Also, if we get this out of the way now, we wonât have to come to another one for a long while. And like you said, itâll be quick.â
You nod and give his hands an encouraging squeeze. âExactly. And remember, if you want to leave early, you just tell me.âÂ
He nods, a lot more sure of himself than just a moment ago. âLetâs go.â
âLetâs go,â you echo.
Jason gets out of the car and you know better than to try and get out yourself, having learned in the very early stages of your relationship that if Jason can help it, you will never have to open a door again. And like always, your door opens and he extends a hand to help you out.
Despite the temperature dropping slightly during the night with the summer reaching its end, itâs a very nice evening. A soft breeze grazes your arms and the cut of your dress but itâs not enough to make you feel cold, mainly due to the warm hand that settles on your lower back. In the sky, the stars that would be impossible to see downtown accompany the moon in illuminating the night.
You two make your way through the gravel path that leads to the back door hand in hand, giving each other courage for the night that awaits ahead.
Once inside, itâs like entering another world entirely. Chatter and glass clinks fill the air and youâre just glad that at least this way your entrance to the party wonât make that much of a fuss as you would have done if you had used the main door.
âI was starting to think that you werenât going to appear, Master Jason.â
At the sound of the voice both you and Jason stop dead in your tracks near the kitchen, almost like two kids getting caught trying to sneak out instead of sneaking in.
âAlfred!â Jason greets him exaggeratedly, trying to distract from the fact that you two have been caught arriving late. The British man canât help but mirror Jasonâs big smile, even as it breaks his teasing smirk. You smile as you watch them hug and then Alfred turns to you.
âOh, and youâve brought Miss Y/N as well! So great to see you again, dear,â he says as he also gives you a quick hug.
âYou too, Alfred,â you reply with a smile. âThough itâs just Y/N, please.â
âYou know Iâm not going to do that, Miss Y/N.â The crinkles of the butlerâs smile reminding you that trying to argue with him was a futile attempt.
You had only met him once before but that had been enough to get to know each other quite well and to already care for each other.
You had met him some weeks before, when Jason took you to the manor for the very first time one weekend as a kind of romantic getaway, as it had been left deserted and empty by Alfred and Bruce due to a business/Batman trip and Tim and Damian were away with their respective friends. It was an opportunity like no other.
It had been a wonderful long summery weekend, spent cooking together, lounging in the pool while sharing lazy kisses in the water with your arms and legs wrapped around him, his hands holding you as the sun set behind you, and watching movies in the home theater. You had never felt more at peace or relaxed.
And then, Alfred had come back a couple of days early. You and Jason had been cooking lunch (well, Jason had been cooking while you admired him perched on the counter), when Alfred entered, surprised to see anyone in the manor. After the initial surprise, friendly introductions had been made since from all of the members of his family, Alfred was the only one that Jason wasnât wary of you meeting.
Jason could only thank whatever was out there that it had been Alfred who had come back early and not Bruce. He wasnât ready to handle that yet.
Alfred joined you two for lunch and even though you were slightly nervous at the beginning at meeting a member of Jasonâs family, you were glad that it was Alfred since he instantly made you feel welcome and at ease. Jason had watched your conversations with a small smile, glad to see and not surprised at all that you got along so well.
After lunch, Alfred left you two be to enjoy the rest of the day as well as the next day since it was your last in the manor. However, he still insisted on making you two breakfast the next day and you got to try Alfredâs famous pancakes. There was no doubt from where Jason had gotten his excellent culinary skills.
You still crossed paths with Alfred a couple more times but they hadnât been awkward at all. During that short time of seeing you and Jason interact, Alfred saw just how happy you two made and loved each other. He could clearly see the certainty of your relationship and he couldnât be happier for the young boy that had once been the second Robin. He totally deserved the happiness that you brought him.
And as Alfred insists on calling you Miss Y/N, with the sounds of the party drifting into the kitchen, just like he had done the first time that he met you, the same thought crosses his mind.
That the only way in which he would ever call you something other than that would be when you became Mrs. Todd. Something that he was certain would happen from the very first moment that he saw you laugh with Jason before he had made his presence known that summer afternoon. A truth as plain as the sun.
Now, seeing that the British man isnât giving up upon your insistence on calling you just by your first name, you sigh defeatedly. âAlright.â
At that, Alfred smiles and turns back to Jason. âYour brothers will be glad to see youâve been able to make it.â
Jason rolls his eyes. âSure.â
You smile at his antics and squeeze his hand. The thing was that at each Wayne gala, as it was to be expected, a few members of the family should be present. But considering the fact that all, literally all, the Waynes hated the galas, having Waynes at a gala had long been a recurring problem.
No one still talks about the time that at one of them, not a single Wayne had appeared. The press had had a field day with it and it took the Waynes months to repair the damage.
For a rich family in Gotham that lead a double life as vigilantes, they sure hated the appearances and masks that came with having to entertain the socialites. You have always found the fact extremely entertaining.
And so, in order to avoid the great gala disaster, as Jason had explained to you, they had come up with a system. Taking turns attending the galas and doing so in different groups as they all knew that no one, absolutely no one should have to suffer through a gala alone (except Bruce, who sometimes had to go alone, downsides of being the face of the company).
For example, a group could be Bruce, Dick and Damian (who, lucky for him, has never had to experience the torture of going to one alone, still being a kid and all), or Jason and Dick, but never just Jason and Tim alone, the two always looking to make an escape and neither of them keeping the other in check. However, if they were accompanied by someone else it was manageable. The pairings and different groupings going on and on.
But tonight, however, it was the turn for all four of the batboys to be there, Bruce out on a mission. And so here you were, having offered to accompany your boyfriend when he told you that he had to go to the gala. Jason had said that it wasnât necessary but you could see the relief in his eyes when you assured him that you wanted to go with him, knowing how hard these things could be sometimes.
Though not liking large crowds either, you were no better. What a pair did you two make. But you knew that together, you could face this night. Now, apart from the overall challenge of enduring the night, came the very real possibility of finally meeting Jasonâs brothers. It wasnât that Jason was trying to keep you away from them or hiding you, they did know about you, itâs just that it was a delicate issue that he wanted to handle at his own time and when he was ready.
You understood that and of course never pushed him on the topic. You knew that if it were for Jason, he would scream that you two were together a hundred times a day, he had no problem holding your hand in public nor kissing you until you felt dizzy in the middle of the street.
Either way, when you two realized that you could meet them, Jason came to the conclusion that it wasnât so bad. That way theyâll stop pestering him about meeting you and you would do it in a more relaxed ambience than what a formal dinner with all of his family, including Bruce, could be, with all of their eyes fixed on you and asking you millions of questions. At least this way, with the gala, distractions were easy to come by if a quick escape was necessary.
So, if you met them, good. If you didnât, good as well.
Though still, the nerves persisted.
After exchanging a couple of phrases more with Alfred, he returned to his duties at the party and with your arm looped through Jasonâs, you stepped into the space that had been turned into a ballroom of sorts, all of Gothamâs elite there. Either to donate to a Wayne fundraiser (sadly, the least likely of them all), invest in Wayne Enterprises (more likely), drink (very likely), or to snoop around the mysterious Wayne manor and find out more about the peculiar family (the most likely of them all).
You have to say that you're impressed with what has been done with the space. Added chandeliers and carefully placed lamps give the room a golden glow, highlighting all the luxury of the attendees, from expensive watches, to even more expensive necklaces, and making all the glasses of champagne around the room sparkle.
On one side, a bar has been set up, on the other, on a small stage, musicians play for the dancing couples on the dance floor that has been put up in the center. And scattered around the room, high tables where people place their drinks and gather for conversations.
The lack of chairs does not go unnoticed, just a couple every few tables and the stools that surround the bar. The lack no doubt made deliberately, that way, no one would settle for long, either forcing them to mingle and spend some money on the gala or directly leave. The Waynes really do not like to have people in their house. You have to stifle a laugh at the thought, you could relate to that.
Though it makes perfect sense, given that no one wants too many people on the floor above the headquarters for Gothamâs vigilantes for long. You also know that in whatever way they can, they always try to have the galas either at Wayne Tower or at any other place, but sometimes, having one at the manor once in a while was inevitable.
You canât help but tense up as you notice more and more people start to look towards you two. You donât even notice that your anxious nature has gotten the better of you and that your grip on Jasonâs arm has tightened until his other hand covers yours, the touch immediately grounding and soothing you. You look up at him and take a deep breath as his green eyes look at you encouragingly and gratefully, telling you that you can do this and that heâs thankful that youâre here with him.
You smile before squeezing his arm back and then you two plunge into battle. Showtime.
You make small talk with a few of the guests before approaching the bar to get something to drink. As you wait for your drinks you feel Jason lean down to whisper in your ear.
âIâm going to the bathroom real quick, Iâll be right back. You okay?â
You nod with a smile, telling him that itâs okay before he gives a quick kiss to your temple and then disappears into the crowd.
Your eyes scan the room as you take the refreshment that has been placed in front of you and take a sip, trying not to draw too much attention upon yourself while you wait. Youâre no vigilante but as a person that prefers alone time, assessing the room before making any social interaction goes without saying. Youâre even thinking of seeking Alfred and asking him if he needs help with anything when your eyes clock Jason again on the other side of the room, cornered by a bunch of socialites.
He has a pleasing smile on his face as he listens to what theyâre telling him. To any other person, it might seem like heâs genuinely interested, but you can read him like a book. The corners of his smile are tense, apart from the fact that it doesn't reach his eyes, and his too constant nodding tells you how he is feigning the interest. His eyes find yours for a moment before returning to the lady speaking to him and in that split millisecond you can see how his smile turns real for you, before becoming fake once again.
You leave your glass on the counter of the bar to make your way to him and save him from the people crowding him when suddenly-
âCare for a dance?â a smooth voice says at your side.
You turn to decline when youâre met with eyes of a vibrant shade of blue, a boyish youth and mischief in them, but also slightly hardened with years of experience dealing with the worst of Gotham. His black hair is perfectly styled, a winning and charming smile on his lips and clad in a black suit with a bow tie that highlights all of his features. You can see how heâs a handsome man but still to you, he doesnât hold a candle to Jason.
Of course you know who he is.
Gothamâs golden boy.
âDick Grayson.â
âY/N Y/L/N.â His smile widens and you realize that this is happening whether you want it or not. Youâre meeting one of Jasonâs brothers. Your eyes flick back to Jason but heâs no longer surrounded by the socialites. In fact, heâs nowhere to be found. He mustâve managed to escape somehow. Looks like youâre going to have to face this alone. You had even been starting to think that this moment wouldnât come since you hadnât seen any of Jasonâs brothers since you arrived.
You turn back to Dick and heâs still in the exact same position, leaning with one arm on the bar, carefully watching you with a knowing smile. Everything in his demeanor open, easy.
âItâs nice to finally meet you,â he says, extending his hand.
Your force your body to release the small tension that it has accumulated and with a small smile you shake his hand. âYou too.â
âGlad to see that Jason hasnât made you up. We were starting to doubt that you really existed,â he comments playfully.
You know that he isnât intimidating you or trying to scare you, merely wanting to meet you, know more about Jasonâs life, see the reason why heâs the happiest that they have ever seen him.
âIâm very real, yes.â
âSo, how about that dance?â
You pause for a second. âIâm not the best dancer.â
âCome on, please. How am I supposed to get to know my new sister-in-law otherwise?â
âBy just talking?â
He chuckles. âAlright, fair enough. How about this, how am I supposed to get to know my sister-in-law without gossiping rich people interrupting us over and over again?â Dick nods to the side and you see how a few of the guests are looking towards you two, no doubt about to walk up to you and force you to establish conversation.
âLead the way,â you end up saying and Dickâs smile beams even more, his joyous nature and openness making you feel at ease. You feel like heâs trying to make this easy for you, knowing how awkward meeting your boyfriendâs family could be.
He then offers you his arm to guide you to the dance floor and in no time youâre joining all the couples waltzing around it.
âSo⌠Y/N, tell me. What are your intentions with our dear Jaybird?â he jokes in mock seriousness while arching an eyebrow.
âJaybird?â you ask, never having heard the nickname before but already liking it.
âOh, Y/N, I have so many anecdotes to tell you. Weâre going to have so much fun.â
You smile at the prospect of hearing stories about Jason. âCanât wait. But to answer your question, my intentions are to just be with him. For as long as he wants me.â
Dick nods, as if you just confirmed something that he already knew. âI feel like thatâs going to be a long time.â You feel your cheeks warm at his words. You really hope that it is too. Forever, if you can help it. âThough are you sure that you want to put up with him for so long? He can be insufferable,â he adds, and you chuckle.
âYes, Iâm sure.â
Afterwards, he asks you about your job and your family, and you ask him about life in BlĂźdhaven. Youâre glad for his easygoingness, allowing you to feel comfortable and a sense of camaraderie and friendship already between you. Youâre also glad that youâre dancing since youâre sure that if you werenât, conversation wouldnât have flowed as easily without the privacy that it has given you.
âMy turn, Grayson,â a voice suddenly speaks.
You two stop dancing and turn your heads to the side, and then slightly down to find a young boy. His dark combed back hair and his straight posture making him a shadow of his father, his green eyes looking up at you expectantly and his tan skin inherited from his mother. Talia al Ghul.
âNo, it isnât,â Dick replies.Â
âYes, it is,â Damian retorts, holding Dickâs gaze. Itâs like they are challenging one another while also having a mental conversation.
Finally, Dick sighs. âFine. But only if Y/N is okay with that."
âItâs alright,â you say softly.
âSee?â Damian insists and Dick rolls his eyes. You smile at their interaction and then Dick turns back to you.
âThanks for dancing with me, Y/N. Itâs been really nice finally getting to talk to you.â
âLikewise.â
Dick squeezes your hands in goodbye before letting go, Damian taking his spot to dance with you. âSee you around.â Dick says and you nod and watch as he takes his leave, until a throat clears in front of you and you begin dancing once again.
âYouâre Toddâs girlfriend then? Y/L/N?â
âThatâs me. You must be Damian. Itâs nice to meet you.â Damian nods solemnly before staring intensely at you, as if deciphering you. His movements are graceful and elegant, even more purposeful than Dickâs even. You suppose that all the grace must have something to do with growing up with ninjas and practically being raised like royalty.
Not one to back out, you hold his gaze and stare back at him. Heâs shorter than you but you have no doubt that in no time heâll be taller than you.
âYouâre a great dancer, Damian,â you finally say and you can see how something in him changes, no longer putting up the intimidating facade, allowing himself to relax slightly.
âThanks. Mother taught me.â
âThatâs nice. I hope Iâm not making you look too much like a fool.â
Damian shrugs. âYouâre alright.â
You smile, taking his version of a compliment as a win. Then you take another look around the room, wondering where Jason could be. Maybe Alfred has asked for his help on something. You turn back to Damian, who looks around the space uninterested.
âIâm guessing you donât like these galas much,â you say, trying to get him to open up a bit more.
âThey are⌠a responsibility.â
âYeah, well, Iâd much rather prefer doing something else. Like going to the aquarium or the museum.â Damianâs eyes shot back to yours like a flash, a small sparkle in them.
Bingo.
You try to contain your triumphant smile. âHave you seen the new art exhibit? Jason told me that you like drawing,â you continue.
And just like that, whatever it was that Damian was wary of disappears as you two make conversation, discussing different painters, Damianâs art and your own hobbies. Then, for a second, Damian pauses in thought, like a jury about to deliver their decision, making you wonder what heâs about to say.Â
âYouâre cool. Todd was right about you,â he finally says as the current song ends and you two come to a stop.
You smile softly in thanks. âGlad to hear that.â
âThough Iâm not yet quite sure what you could be seeing in Todd. Youâre clearly way cooler than him.â
That makes you chuckle and you donât miss how a smile twitches on Damianâs face.
âThanks, I guess? Though heâs not that bad. Not at all.â
Damian just shrugs at your statement but you have the feeling that behind all the picking, thereâs fondness and a brotherly bond between him and Jason.
âAnyway, I have to go feed my animals. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.â Your jaw almost drops, but you manage to avoid it before your lips twist into a wide smile.
Damianâs calling you by your first name. When Jason has told you that he never does that with anyone. Not even Dick.
âYou too, Damian.â
He nods in goodbye before going towards the exit of the ballroom. You leave the dance floor and take a deep breath. Well, that wasnât so bad. It was fun, actually.
You decide that you need some air in order to take all of the recent events in and head towards the open patio door that looks out to the gardens. Even though you can still hear the party, as the door is still open, the change of ambience is very much welcomed. You inhale the fresh air before releasing a content sigh at having a moment for yourself.
You lean on the railing surrounding the few steps that separate you from the grass as you gaze up at the clear sky, the moon illuminating the patio and the late summer evening breeze creating ripples along the surface of the pool. Itâs a nice break from the scorching nights that Gotham can have along the summer. You canât wait for the fall.
As you let yourself relax in the quiet evening, you think back to what has just happened. You just met two of Jasonâs brothers. And everything went well. You still canât believe it. You let out a soft chuckle at the thought that your social skills havenât failed you this time. Despite usually needing a lot of time with a person to open up and build trust, youâre surprised at how easy it came to you with Dick and Damian, already getting along and having the feeling that youâre going to become good friends. Family, someday.
Maybe itâs due to Dickâs easygoing personality or the things that you have in common with Damian but you feel like itâs more than that. The knowledge that these kind of connections donât come easy for them either, given all the secrets that they have to keep and the fact that they donât have to tiptoe around you. The fact that you all love Jason Todd dearly.
Youâre just glad that you click with them as well as you did all that time ago with Jason. Who, by the way, is still MIA. Itâs been a good while since you saw him. Where could he be?
âDo you want some?â a voice suddenly says, interrupting your thoughts and making you turn towards its source.
Well, looks like the meeting-your-boyfriendâs-family night isnât over.
Tim Drake stands on the doorway, holding two glasses of champagne. Heâs wearing a suit as well but his appearance isnât as neat as Dickâs or Damianâs. His hair is slightly tousled and his tie is loosened around his neck. His blue eyes, a shade lighter than Dickâs, look kindly at you.
âSure, thanks,â you say as you take the glass that he offers you. The truth was that you werenât a big drinker, only having a few sips on scattered special occasions during the year, like champagne on New Yearâs Day or the rare instances in which you found yourself in glamorous parties like this.
You take a small sip of the sparkly drink as Tim comes to stand next to you.
âSo, what do you think of the gala? Having fun?â
âItâs alright. You all do know how to throw a party,â you answer.
âWhat can I say? If thereâs one thing weâre good at is appearances,â Tim says jokingly.
You nod with a smile while taking another sip, though this time you canât help the grimace that you make at the growing bitter taste of alcohol in your mouth.
âNot a fan?â
âNot really,â you respond honestly, deciding to leave the glass on the outdoor table for now.
âMe neither, actually.â
And then, your eyes widen when, just like nothing, Tim literally throws the content of his glass, his untouched and what youâre sure of is a very, very, expensive champagne towards the grass and leaves his now empty glass next to yours.
Seriously, what was wrong with rich people?
You shake the thought as you and Tim start making friendly conversation. Heâs telling you a story in which Jason faceplanted once during training, when it strikes you that it really is amazing how all the Robins somehow actually physically look like family despite not being blood-related. And itâs not just the coincidence that all of them have clear colored eyes and dark hair, but rather the way in which they hold themselves, something in their stance and attitude giving them a similar aura. An aura of shared hardships and experiences.
âIâm sorry that it took so long for us to meet,â Tim says after a small moment of peaceful silence. You shake your head and you can feel the shift in the air as his expression turns more serious and continues talking before you can say anything.
âI know that we can be a lot, and you havenât even met all of us.â You tilt your head, listening, waiting to see where heâs going with this. âThings between us and Jason are good, though of course, like with any family, there are some rough patches.â He pauses for a second, leaning with his hip on the metal railing while crossing his arms. âWe really wanted to meet you and we feared that something that we hadnât realized had been going on with Jason and that he was retreating again by refusing to introduce you to us.â
You shake your head again. âItâs not that at all, Tim, I promise. Things are good. He just gets doubtful sometimes and needs to take things at his own time.â
Tim nods, letting you know that he understands. âIâm just sorry that we boarded you like this, we thought it might be easier taking the pressure out of it. Instead of having a formal family dinner or something, just meet you today in case that Jason decided to bring you. All in all, Iâm glad we did, we probably wouldnât have met you for a lot longer, probably until it was strictly necessary, if we hadnât intervened.â
Youâre processing all the information when before you can reply, you finally hear Jasonâs voice again.
âY/N!â he calls as he approaches you after spotting you outside. âIâm so, so sorry for leaving you alone. I was ambushed by the guests before going to the bathroom, then Alfred asked me to go help him with something in the kitchen and then Dick couldnât fucking wait to ask me something about a case. It was just one thing after the other, Iâm so sorry,â he rambles, a hand running through his hair in distress, knowing how you hate this kind of events as much as him.
Just as he finishes his rant, he finally reaches you and as he takes your hands in his, you can visibly see how his distressed state morphs into a relieved one just by being next to you. Itâs like during your unexpected time apart Jason had been underwater the whole time and has just been finally allowed to come up for air to the surface and fill his lungs just by seeing you and being near you again.
You just shake your head and gently bring a hand to the nape of his neck to press your foreheads together so that he can ground himself and focus on you, showing him that youâre okay. You just know heâs feeling guilty for leaving you on your own when you two promised to be together to face the night.
âItâs okay,â you say softly in a low voice, trying to calm him.
And then, after connecting the dots between what Tim and Jason have just said, everything clicks. Itâs not a coincidence that youâve met Jasonâs brothers one right after the other and that Jason just so conveniently had been missing from your side to prevent that from happening. You canât help the small smile that pulls at your lips upon realizing what has happened, finding the Waynesâ antics and dramaticness quite entertaining.
âAnd donât worry, I had company,â you add.
And just as you say that, you can see how Jason feels movement to his right and turns his head like a hawk to find Tim shifting on his feet. Jason hadnât seen him earlier since you were the only one visible through the open door and once outside, Timâs side of the terrace was covered in shadows.
You see the exact moment in which Jasonâs gaze hardens staring at Tim, realizing just exactly what had actually happened, all of his family plotting to distract him so that they could meet you. You know that Jason isnât actually angry, just slightly annoyed from the ruse and from being kept away from you, and now heâs channeling all of that towards Tim, making it seem bigger than what it actually is.
âTimâŚâ Jason says through gritted teeth in a threatening tone as he separates himself from you and starts stomping towards Tim. Itâs almost comically funny how Tim immediately scrambles and bolts to the other side of the terrace, putting the outdoor table between him and Jason, extending his arms in front of him to protect himself as if he was some defenseless animal and not a well-trained vigilante.
You almost have to stifle a laugh.
Sibling dynamics at its finest.
âListen, Jason, I-â Tim starts to plead his case but before Jason gets too far away from you, you grab his hand again. And itâs incredible the way in which Jason turns towards you and immediately his posture softens. Tim doesnât waste the opportunity and escapes into the gala again, leaving you and Jason alone.
âItâs alright, they just wanted to meet me,â you say and Jason sighs, deciding to let the matter go and just come back to your arms, his hands on your waist, giving a small subconscious squeeze.
âYes, but they had no right to play with us,â he answers, pressing your foreheads together once again.
âI know. But, hey,â you lift your hand to push some hair away from his forehead, ânothing bad happened. Iâm still here.â
Jason nods and his gaze softens before closing his eyes, relishing in your touch. You close your eyes as well and you two stay in your embrace for a moment. Letting the night envelop you, surrounding yourselves with the evening sounds of the faded chatter from the party, the breeze rustling the bushes, the water in the pool, the night time insects and an owl in the distance.
âI think itâs time for us to leave,â Jason finally says, looking at you once again, having had enough of the social night.
âYes,â you wholeheartedly agree, wanting to have your boyfriend all for yourself.
With that said, Jason nods, kisses your forehead and takes your hand firmly in his in order to not lose you again and you two make your way out of the gala. You donât even bother to say goodbye to anybody. As you two leave, on the side of the ballroom, Dick, Tim, Damian and Alfred all stand in line, watching you fondly, glad to finally have met you and seen how happy Jason is with you. Before disappearing from view you give them a small wave and they smile.
You still have to meet Bruce, but thatâs a problem for another day.
When you finally get home and Jason closes the door behind you, the two of you having already decided that he would spend the night at your apartment, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. Finally home. You take a deep breath, shedding your social armor. Jason feels relief too at having finally left the manor, because even though the place will always be a home to him, the very definition of the word changed when he met you.
Jason watches you mesmerized as you leave your purse on a table and then move to the kitchen to drink a cold glass of water. He stands idly in your living room following your every move, a cast spell on him.
Youâre beautiful.
Even though your hair isnât as perfectly done as it was at the beginning of the evening and thereâs a tired drag to your feet, you are. You always are.
He still canât believe that youâre with him.
The way that you move around him as comfortably as youâd do if you were alone amazes him. It amazes him that you feel safe enough with him to just be yourself, not putting on any mask like you did in the gala with the attendees. Heâs just so immensely grateful that you let him see you like this, open and being so undoubtedly yourself.
Youâre saying something about cooking something quick or maybe ordering takeout when you brace yourself with a hand on the back of a chair to take off your heels with the other. But before you can take off your shoe, Jason softly grabs your hand, stopping you mid-rant.
He pulls you to follow him and you donât put any kind of resistance, letting a comfortable silence fall upon you two. The only sounds the passing cars on the street and the steps of your heels on the floor. Once you reach the couch Jason makes you sit on it and you watch as he kneels in front of you and then, with a care and gentleness that no one would expect from the man known as Red Hood, he begins to undo the straps of your heels.
And thereâs just something in the sight in front of you that makes your heart flip in your chest. How someone as big as him gets down on his knees before you, for once him being the one looking up at you instead of the other way around, almost as if worshiping the ground you walk on, as if you were the one that brought him back to life and not some mystical pit.
Now itâs you the one that watches him enchanted, wondering how you were so lucky as to have him love you. He takes one of your heels off, his eyes never leaving yours for a second, and then gives your free foot a slight massage to help the soreness out of it and you sigh in relief.
How is he even real?
And then, just before slipping the other heel off, with one of his warm hands on your lower calf, you watch with your heart in your throat how he kisses the inside of your knee.
You let out a small gasp and itâs crazy how much your heart is racing because you just know that he did it just for the heck of it, an act so loving, so simple, with no major intention rather than the selfish feeling of wanting to feel your skin against his lips.
But what raises goosebumps all throughout your body is not the action in itself, but rather the dark sparkle that crosses his eyes upon hearing your gasp, promising you something for later, for when heâs drawing shapes all across your body, as if tracing a map signaling a treasure. Except that the map itself is the treasure and heâs just taking his time exploring it, enjoying it, admiring it, worshiping it.
Jason then finally takes off your other heel and gives your foot the same quick massage treatment as the other one. When heâs done he gets back up on his feet and offers you a hand.
You take it and he pulls you to your feet again. And then, in the same silent comfort that has settled over you, with the same care and gentleness that Jason has treated you with, you slowly undo his tie, your gaze still fixed on his, saying a million different things that do not need to be said out loud. Most of them having to do with how much you love him.
After you discard the tie somewhere on the couch, you undo the first couple of buttons of his shirt, releasing him from the uptightness that comes with them and you feel his muscles relax even further under your hands. Next, you slip his jacket from his shoulders and he helps you take it off of him while he looks at you with the same intensity that you regard him with, reveling in how you take care of him.
Then, Jason rolls his sleeves up a bit his forearms before taking one of your hands in his and then, with his other arm around your waist, pulls you flush against his chest, practically fusing you two together, as if he could never pull you close enough, needing you as physically closer as possible, just as much as he needed oxygen, if not more.
âWe didnât have a chance to dance,â he whispers then with your faces inches from each other, still not disturbing the peaceful silence.
You hum in agreement and before you know it, youâre already swaying softly together in the living room, both of you with your eyes closed, your head resting on the crook of his neck and his on your hair. Thereâs no music but it doesnât need to be, you feel so at peace and content, none of the opulent galas in the world could compare to a quiet evening with Jason.
You have no idea how much time youâve spent there, barefoot and wrapped in Jasonâs arms, swaying to the sounds of Gothamâs nightlife and your own heartbeats, only knowing that you would gladly spend forever like this.
âThank you.â
You lift your head to find that Jasonâs already looking at you.
âFor what?â you ask in the same soft tone as him, a lilt of confusion in your voice.
âFor coming today.â Before you can respond he keeps talking. âFor sticking around. For putting up with my family.â A pause. His eyes leave yours to look to the side. He shrugs. âJust⌠for being with me, I guess.â
Your gaze softens and you feel a pang in your chest as you see Jasonâs insecurities eating away at him. You stop your swaying and bring your hands to Jasonâs face to make him focus on you, his hands moving instinctively to hold your waist. But Jasonâs still avoiding your gaze and you hate the doubt that you see creeping in your favorite shade of green.
âIâm always going to be here. Iâm right where I want to be. I love you. And Iâm not putting up with anything, I want you. I want to be part of all the parts in your life,â you say, softly caressing his cheek with your thumb, having the suspicion that these doubts have something to do with meeting his brothers tonight.
âI know. I justâŚâ Jason takes a deep breath closing his eyes, taking a moment to organize his thoughts before looking at you again. âI just canât believe that youâre still here. I have this⌠this feeling that one way or another Iâm going to screw up and lose you.â
You open your mouth to refute him but Jason shakes his head, presses his forehead to yours, closes his eyes to concentrate on what he wants to say, and continues before you can say anything. âAnd I know, trust me, I know that you love me and that youâre not going to leave. You show me every single day. I was just afraid that if neither myself nor me being Red Hood hadnât driven you away, my family surely would.â
When Jason finishes he doesnât move, his forehead still against yours and his eyes still closed, as if he doesnât want to face what may come next, and his hands on your waist in the same position, if anything, holding onto you even tighter.
Holding onto you as if it were the last time, as if his confession would finally be the thing that would drive you away. You close your eyes as well for a second and take a deep breath.
How can you even begin to express how much you love this man?
Your heart is bursting with how much you feel for him. The love that you hold for him begins in the depth of it and as your heart pumps blood through your body, it also pumps that love through every single vein, nerve and cell in it. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Itâs something that lies beneath every single movement and action that you make, to the point where youâre not sure if what sustains you are your bones or your love for him.
And that love of course, is interlaced with the pain that comes from watching the one you love hurt. You know that Jason is telling you the truth, that he knows that youâre not going anywhere and that you love him. But thereâs this underlying fear in him, an instinct acquired from having lost all the good things in his life, things that he loved, from both his mothers to wearing the Robin mantle, that makes him subconsciously always expect the worst.
Thatâs why he prolonged you meeting his family for so long.
Without knowing, heâs always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the moment in which the rug will be pulled from under him and heâll fall into the void. He survived all the previous things, more or less, but he isnât sure that he would if you were to leave his life.
Because now everything, every single piece of him is rooted in you, like the earth orbiting the sun, the very thing that allows life on the planet in the first place. And thatâs what you are to him, a source of warmth, comfort and life. And heâs sure that if he didnât have that he would crumble. He might technically survive it but he wouldnât be the same.
But the thing is that just as much as he's rooted in you, youâre rooted to him. Heâs the anchor to your boat lost in a storm, the earth to your forever spinning moon. Heâs your anchor, your earth, your sun, your everything.
You know that the doubts and insecurities arenât going to disappear overnight but maybe, together, you two can make them lessen.
âJason. Look at me,â you say when you open your eyes once again, pulling back slightly so that you can look him square in the eyes. Jason sighs, not wanting the quiet moment, the infinite second in which he can just be in your embrace and forget everything else to end. But then he slowly opens his eyes, showing you his troubled thoughts.
âI love you. So much that I can feel it in every single part of my body. Itâs like youâre part of my DNA. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can make me want to leave you. And youâre not going to screw up anything. Call me selfish but I want to be near the things that make me feel strong, like I can achieve anything I want. The things that comfort me when I need it most, that are always there for me, even when Iâm not at my best and I feel like a burden.â
Now Jason is the one that shakes his head and wants to refute you but you move your thumb from his cheek to his lips to shush him. âThe things that make me feel loved. And youâre the only thing that makes me feel all of that. God knows I have my baggage too and it still amazes me that you understand me, that you want to carry it with me, that youâre proud to do so.â
You take a deep breath. âSo no, Iâm not leaving. Ever. Iâm always going to be here. And Iâm very glad that I met Dick, Tim and Damian tonight. Theyâre nice and they have allowed me to see more of you. And if there's something that I canât get enough of is you. Okay?â
Jason nods as he leans into the touch of your hand, his eyes bright with love and admiration for you. And then he closes the small distance between you and kisses you, gripping your waist tightly, one hand coming up to hold your face and deepen the kiss. Your hands drop to his shoulders and you donât waste a single second to kiss him back as fervently as he does. He hasnât answered to your reassuring words but you donât need him to. Heâs telling you everything you need to know in that kiss.
When his lips first came in contact with yours, he said, Okay.
Where his hands are grabbing your body so tightly but oh so gently, heâs saying, Youâre what I treasure most in this world.
And as you stand there in the middle of the living room, being kissed like nothing else exists except you two in this very moment, heâs saying, I love you.
You could have been like that just a couple of minutes or a couple of centuries for all you know, always forgetting the outside world when he kisses you. And when you finally part to catch your breaths, foreheads against each other, your hand softly caressing the hair at the back of his head, the shine in his eyes tells you everything that his lips have just said and more.
Still, he wants to make sure that youâre aware that he isnât going to let his thoughts eat away at him and so he finally whispers, âOkay.â
âGood,â you whisper back, your hand finding his cheek and caressing it once again. And then you find his lips again, because if thereâs one thing that you could spend doing forever without ever growing tired of is kissing him.
And without speaking, your lips tell him something too. Something that he feels as certain as the sun, the moon and the stars.Â
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
#Jason todd x reader#Jason todd fic#Jason todd one shot#Jason todd imagine#Jason todd#Red hood x reader#Red hood fic#Red hood one shot#Red hood imagine#Red hood#Jason todd imagines#Red hood imagines#The Gala#ThreeStarsInLine#Jason todd fluff#Red hood fluff#DC Comics#Batfam#Sometimes I think I'm funny jsjsks
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Red Sonja: Valentine's Day Special 2021 One-Shot Cover Art By Joseph Michael Linsner (1960x3040)
#red sonja#cover art#comic art#comic#highres#hot#dynamite entertainment#red sonja: valentine's day special#one-shot comic#toned female#joseph michael linsner#melon
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FANTASIZEâŚ
old!logan howlett x fem!reader
*mdni
cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)
wc: 1k+
a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.
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Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.
It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.
"Good form today, kid."
"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."
"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"
Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.
If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.
No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.
It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.
âŚ
Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.
"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.
For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.
"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"
No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.
"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.
"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"
You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.
"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.
"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.
"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.
"Keep talkin', dollface."
There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.
You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"
"Why not?"
"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."
Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".
Which was far from the truth.
"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.
"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."
With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.
"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"
Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.
In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.
"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."
God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.
"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."
#james logan howlett#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#hugh jackman wolverine#logan howlett smut#deadpool and wolverine#logan x reader#wolverine angst#wolverine x reader#logan howlett angst#wolverine smut#wolverine#logan howlett imagine#wolverine fluff#wolverine x you#wolverine one shot#logan howlett fluff#logan wolverine#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan james howlett#logan#x men#old man logan x reader#x men comics#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#old man!logan#mcu#marvel movies
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My mom (and my sister) said that both baby Stan and Ford are adorable but Ford is cuter and she likes him better and I think my heart is shattered.
This post is dedicated to my favorite kid Stanley panels:
My mom didnât even like him when I showed the one where he murders those two kids đđđ thatâs the best part!!!
#gravity falls#stanley pines#stanford pines#I just wanna hold him and tell him heâs wonderful and creative and amazing#heâs trying his best#hes just a baby HES JUST A BABY#she doesnât like that heâs a con man but MAYBE he wouldnât have become a con man if he had a better support group đ¤đ¤đ¤#I mean câmon this kid had practically NO ONE#the only one there for him was his brother#and he was always over shadowed by his brother#everything he did in comparison wasnât enough#and so yeah he takes shortcuts to catch up and then all he knows to do is lie and cheat because anything else he tried to do got shot down#HE WANTED TO DRAW COMICS DAMNIT#and really he was also pretty skilled in crafting! like foot bot and the boat he built with his brother#he probably just didnât realize that that was impressive because of course it wasnât his brother was doing things ten times cooler#YOU GUYS WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HIM THE WAY I DO#đđđđđđđđđđđđ#AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MY CHILDHOOD#WHERE I WAS *ALSO* OVER SHADOWED BY MY SIBLING AND FELT THAT I WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH#AND IâD GET IN TROUBLE FOR SHIT I DIDNT DO#AND WAS CONSIDERED THE SCREW UP#THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT.#SHUT UP.
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Dev this is serious stop beatboxing.
#fop nature au#fop#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#dev dimmadome#fop dev#dale dimmadome#emetophobia#art#digital art#fanart#comic#Sorry for taking so long on this I was procrastinating bcs its just kinda a context page that needs to exist for other stuff to happen#I love it when they interact like disgruntled roommates#like on one had he SHOT HIM on the other hand whats Dev supposed to do? Go no contact?? Hes ten#This takes place like 2 days after the deer attack#Dale got whisked away to fairy world to get speed healed and had his memory wiped of the whole thing#Devs relationship with his dad is so messy cause like yes his dad hurt him but also thats his dad and he loves him.#even if his dad doesnt love him back#He wants to Want To Hurt his dad. thats the right way to feel about after what he did. and he does feel that way sometimes.#but on some level its was kind of a relief to hear that he couldnt wish harm on people#because even if he could he isnt sure he could go through with it#and there would be nothing worse than having the power to do something and yet. not#sorry if that sounds insane#complicated relationships with your abuser my beloved#also just the quiet acceptance Dev has for (what he thinks is) Peri straight up lying to his face#Dev likes Peri a lot but he is also deeply aware that Peri hides a lot of things from him#I think he appreciates that Peri tries to shield his feelings. His dad doesnt do that#ofc Peri isnt actually lying here I just think the layers of such a small interaction are hilarious
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Part 19 of Arc II (Part 45)
that facility shot took me eight hours lmao (<- crying)
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#rottmnt#rottmnt leonardo#rottmnt oc#residuum#rottmnt residuum comic#c#g#the long shot was the last one i did so all the other panels backgrounds are slightly off lmao#but boy am i glad i barely do backgrounds sksksksks
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