#or if it had anything to do with anything the team did

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal

In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.

Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words

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109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3

The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.

The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.

"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.

"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"

Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.

As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.

"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.

"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"

Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.

"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."

"Okay, that's enough." You huff.

"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"

You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.

Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.

You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."

Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.

An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.

Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.

"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."

Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.

Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."

The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.

So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.

"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.

You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.

"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."

You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."

A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"

You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."

"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.

Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.

"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.

This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.

"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.

"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.

"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."

Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.

He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."

"Nope. She's all mine."

"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.

He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.

"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.

"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.

"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”

The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.

"Christ. I'm sorry, love."

You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.

Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.

“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."

The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.

You're gone before he can get a word in though.

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102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!

"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."

You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.

"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.

"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"

Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.

"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.

You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.

Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.

"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.

Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.

Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.

"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.

"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."

Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.

"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."

The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.

"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.

You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."

"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.

"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.

"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.

To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."

Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.

A fact that you already know is true.

"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.

"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."

Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.

Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.

Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.

Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.

"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."

Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.

Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.

"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."

"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.

"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.

"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"

Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.

"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."

The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.

"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.

You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"

"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.

Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."

"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."

You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.

"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"

There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"

Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.

"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.

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[vunblr]

A Heart in Hiding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Allusions to Hydra's Trash Party, Medical Experimentation, Panic Attack.

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 13.k.

notes: This is a revised version of Unspoken. It's been a while since I wanted to edit this story, and fortunately, I found the time to do it during the holidays. I hope you enjoy it.

The halls of the Avengers Tower felt different lately, with a new energy. Y/n had been living there for a few months now, being the newest addition to the group, providing support both in the field and at the Tower itself. Her mutation was a rare one: healing. It had proven invaluable in SHIELD's eyes long before she joined the Avengers, who welcomed her gladly when Fury introduced her to the team.

Steve, ever the diplomat, had been the first to welcome her, offering his steady support with a warm smile and reassuring words. Natasha followed soon after, sharing subtle smirks and the occasional dry quip that made her feel like she belonged. Even Tony, in his typical way, wove her into his world of banter, bestowing her with nicknames almost the moment she walked through the door. The rest of the team? They warmed up quicker than she’d expected.

Except for Bucky.

It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, just... distant. She hadn’t taken it personally at first; he was Bucky Barnes, after all. The man known for his stoic glares, clipped words, and the heavy shadows of his past. Given everything he’d endured, who could blame him for keeping to himself?

In the beginning, their interactions were minimal, little more than practical exchanges during missions or brief moments in the common areas. A muttered “thanks” when she patched him up: a scrape on his nose here, a swollen cheekbone there. Silence charged with meaning when her hands worked carefully on his shoulder and chest, where the tissue around the metal arm often swelled or became irritated. She could feel his discomfort, both physical and emotional, though he never said a word. A shared half-smile over early morning coffee, when the world was still and sleeplessness bound them both. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it felt like the start of something.

Gradually, those fleeting moments began to take shape. He started lingering in the kitchen when she made tea, his quiet “Need help with that?” or “How was your day?” carried an unexpected softness. They began to talk, really talk. What started as cautious conversations grew into something deeper. Sometimes, he would seek her out, not because he needed anything, but simply to show her something: a stray white cat he’d spotted on a morning run, a book he thought she might like, or a new recipe he’d stumbled upon online.

For a while, they settled into an easy rhythm. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it felt meaningful, a fragile connection that made her think something real might bloom between them.

But suddenly, everything changed.

At first, it was small: responses shortened to brief nods, his gaze slipping away when she spoke. The conversations dwindled. The moments of shared closeness became few and far between. His presence grew colder, his body language tighter, as though he was retreating behind the walls she’d thought he was beginning to lower.

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t the type to let things fester, but with Bucky, every instinct she had seemed to falter. How did you confront someone who had mastered the art of retreating? Had she overstepped? Done something wrong? Every time she tried to bring it up -softly, carefully- he deflected with a grunt, a short answer, or a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

And every day, the distance between them widened.

-----

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint when things changed with her. At first, he appreciated how she treated him: no pity, no coddling, just simple, genuine conversations that made him feel, for once like a person, normal. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting to talk to someone besides Steve.

He welcomed it at first, the way her smile lingered a little longer when he mumbled a response, the warmth in her eyes during their shared moments. Their conversations became something he looked forward to, something he craved. But as the weeks passed, something else began to stir inside him. Something terrifying.

It wasn’t just gratitude for their growing friendship. No, this was deeper, more intense. Attraction. Wanting. And the more he felt it, the harder it became to face her.

Because every time he allowed himself to think about her, the guilt crashed over him like a wave he couldn’t outrun. She didn’t deserve the weight of his past or the darkness he carried. He had been the Winter Soldier for too long, a weapon of destruction in Hydra’s hands, leaving behind a long trail of pain and death. The faces of the people he’d hurt, and the trembling voices of those who had begged or screamed haunted him, etched into his mind like scars that would never fade.

And then there was the abuse, the kind he never spoke about. It wasn’t just physical; Hydra had taken everything from him: his freedom, his identity, his will. His body had been theirs to use, to break, to control. Late at night, he could still feel the ghost of their hands, the cold, clinical way they had stripped him of his humanity. The thought of it alone made him sick.

How could he even begin to think about her in that way? She was light and warmth, a reminder of all the good he no longer believed he deserved. And Bucky? He was a mess of scars, guilt, and trauma he hadn’t even begun to unpack.

So, he did what he always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm him: he shut them down. He stopped talking to her, stopped letting her get too close. It was easier to be cold and act indifferent than to deal with the storm of feelings inside him. It was better for her to think he didn’t care than to see how broken he really was.

-----

Things started to grow awkward -tense, even- during their group meetings before the missions. What once had been only indifference from Bucky turned into something sharper. It started with a sarcastic comment here or there, muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. She tried to brush it off at first, assuming he was just being moody as usual. But when it became a pattern, when his remarks grew more pointed, more dismissive, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He had started suggesting in front of everyone, that she didn’t have to participate in certain missions.

"Maybe sit this one out," Bucky had said during the last briefing, his tone flat, eyes avoiding hers as he leaned back in his chair. "We don't need anyone getting in the way."

Her eyes narrowed, the heat of anger rising in her chest. She wasn’t new to dangerous missions and wasn’t some kind of rookie that everyone had to look after. And Bucky knew that. They all did. She had a support role, yes, but she had been in the field countless times before, proving her worth more than once not only to them but also to SHIELD. To have him throw those words at her -especially in front of the team- was humiliating. Infuriating.

"You don’t get to decide that, Barnes," she shot back sharply. "I’ve done just fine without your input."

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. "Yeah, because healing a few cuts and bruises is the same as being in the thick of it."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You think that’s all I do? Patch people up? I’ve been in more firefights than you can count, Barnes, and I’m still standing."

"That’s not the point," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally looked at her, with a hard expression. "I’m just saying, you’re better off hanging back. Let the people used to the danger to handle it."

Her eyes flared, fists clenching at her sides as she stepped forward. "Excuse me?! Used to the… I’ll show you danger, you-"

Before she could finish, Steve quickly stepped in, raising a hand to calm the rising tension. “Hey, hey, let’s all take a breath here,” he said firmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on right now.”

A silent exchange passed between everyone present, but no one intervened. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

And this had become their new normal. Meetings had devolved into subtle jabs and snarky comebacks, with Bucky seemingly intent on pushing her buttons, while she fired back with increasingly sharp remarks. Each time he tried to brush her off or suggest she wasn’t needed, she fiercely stood her ground.

He couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just about keeping her at arm’s length, it was fear. Fear of her getting hurt in the field, and, more than that, fear of how much he cared about the possibility. Every time she suited up for a mission, a painful knot twisted in his gut, one he couldn’t untangle no matter how hard he tried.

So, as a defense mechanism -more like a stubborn teenager than the grown man he was- he resorted to belittling her, hoping it would be enough to keep her out of harm’s way.

-----

Their sleeping quarters were close. Too close, sometimes.

One night, she was torn from sleep by the sound of muffled screams. Bucky. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them, but tonight, they were louder, more desperate. She lay in bed for a long moment, listening to his struggle through the not-so-thin walls. She wanted to go back to sleep and tried to convince herself he’d eventually be fine. But the raw sound of his torment lingered in the mind, making it impossible for her to settle.

After an hour or so had passed, and although everything was silent now, she realized the sleep wasn’t going to come back. With a quiet sigh, she got up and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe some tea -and a piece of the achtzig schlag she baked that afternoon, whom was she kidding- would help, as small comfort to chase away the unease from being waked like that.

But when she reached her destiny, she stopped short. Bucky was already there.

He stood by the sink, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his broad back greeting her as she entered. His metal hand gripped the edge of the counter, while the other hung limply at his side with an empty glass loosely grabbed between his fingers. His head was bowed and his shoulders tense, as if the weight of the world rested there. She couldn’t tell if he’d noticed her presence, she could see his face reflected on the glass of the big window, but his gaze was fixed blankly on the sink, lost in whatever hell his nightmares had dragged him through.

For a moment, she hesitated. He barely spoke to her anymore, and when he did, he was a complete ass. But standing there, in the dim light of the kitchen, he didn’t look like his usual self. He looked... more than broken. Vulnerable. The heavy rise and fall of his chest, the slight tremor in his fingers, told her he hadn’t escaped his nightmare, not entirely.

“Bucky,” she called softly, reverting to his nickname, the one she hadn’t used in weeks. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. Just kept staring into the sink as though it might offer some kind of solace he desperately needed.

She stood there, debating if she should leave him alone, letting him find his own way out of whatever haunted him, or stay. Something in the way he stood there, utterly still, as if frozen in time, made her choose the second option. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her comfy cotton nightgown, and she stepped closer.

“Bucky,” she said again, a bit louder.

This time, his shoulders tensed, the only sign he’d heard her. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. His face was a mask of exhaustion, and shadows were carved deep under his eyes. There was a flash of something in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe frustration, but it faded quickly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bucky turned back to the sink, exhaling heavily as if it took effort to breathe. "You’re up late," he muttered hoarsely, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at her.

"So are you," she replied, keeping her tone light despite the tension in the air. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but something told her he wouldn’t answer that. Instead, she moved to the stove, setting a kettle on to boil.

He remained silent, not moving from his spot. The awkwardness lingered between them, but she kept herself busy, preparing tea as if this was an everyday occurrence. Bucky stood there silently, while she pretended not to notice the storm brewing inside him.

She turned back to him as the kettle let out a soft whistle. “Want some?” she asked, holding two cups with a gentle smile. “I picked up a strawberry blend the other day. It’s really good.” The gesture was casual, the same as it had been just a couple of months ago, before everything started to shift.

For a long moment, there was no response. He stood there, staring into the sink as if he hadn’t heard her. Then, to her surprise, he gave a slight nod, the motion so subtle it almost wasn’t there. His eyes, still shadowed by whatever nightmares lingered from his sleep, flicked toward her but didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

She nodded, poured the tea, and placed one mug on the counter in front of him before leaning against it, cupping her own mug in her hands.

“Strawberry’s a weird choice for tea, right?” she asked, trying to keep things light. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it kinda grows on you. Tony said it smelled like candy.”

He didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on the steaming cup in front of him, and his jaw was clenched tight. She smiled softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Steve liked it, too. He said it reminded him of-”

“Shut up.” His voice was low and sharp with frustration. “Just… shut up.” He whispered again.

The words hit her like a slap, and her smile faltered immediately. For a moment, she just stood there, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. “I’ll... leave you to it.”

She started to turn, deciding it was better to give him space, but before she could leave the kitchen, his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

She paused, mid-step, and slowly turned back. Bucky wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the cup of tea, his expression tight, conflicted.

“I... I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, a familiar gesture of discomfort, that this time it felt heavier. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You don’t deserve-”

He finally looked up, and his blue eyes were clouded with something raw. “I... had a nightmare,” he admitted, the words coming out slowly, as if they were too painful to say aloud. “One of the heavy ones.” His voice cracked on the last part, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, haunted.

She shifted slightly, watching the tension in his posture, on the way his fingers gripped the edge of the counter as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She hesitated, but the concern pushed her forward. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched instantly, the muscle twitching as his eyes flicked away from hers, focusing again on the cup of tea. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she thought he might snap at her again. But instead, there was only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that told her everything she needed to know.

The dream still clung to him. It wasn’t just a memory, it was something darker, something visceral. In the back of his mind, the flashback played like a twisted reel. He remembered the cold steel table beneath his back, the harsh, sterile lights overhead. The sensation of the reinforced restraints biting into his skin. Voices around him, detached and clinical, as faceless scientists in white coats discussed the "procedure." A sharp pain had torn through his body, worse than anything he had felt before, as they tested the limits of his tissue regeneration. They cut deeper with each slice, watching his flesh heal itself in real-time, timing the speed of recovery as though he was no more than a lab rat.

He could still hear the sound of the blade cutting through muscle and bone and the smell of the antiseptic mixing with the coppery tang of blood. No anesthesia, it wasn’t needed. Bucky’s grip tightened on the counter and she saw the way his whole body tensed, the flicker of torment in his eyes that he tried to hide behind his blank expression.

She took a small step forward. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly, offering him an out without pushing him further.

She hesitated, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhaustion that etched into every line of his face. He looked like a man fighting a battle he couldn’t win, worn down by nights that stretched too long and memories that wouldn’t fade. She bit her lip, debating, before taking another small step forward.

“I could help… if you want. With the nightmares.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, snapping his eyes to hers. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too far. The air between them grew heavier, thick with the weight of things left unsaid.

“I mean,” she added quickly, keeping her voice soft, “my powers... they don’t just work on physical injuries. I can soothe the mind too, if the person is willing. I could help you sleep.” Her words trailed off, unsure if this was what he wanted -or needed- to hear. She shifted slightly, glancing down before meeting his gaze again. “You look like you could use a break from it all, even if it’s just for a little while. You don’t have to keep carrying this alone.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at her. His posture was still tense, every muscle taut like he was bracing for an attack. She half-expected him to shut her down, to retreat behind that wall of silence and dismiss her with another biting comment. Instead, his expression softened ever so slightly, and the hardness in his eyes dimmed as he weighed her words. She saw the exhaustion behind the mask he always wore, the misery that had become his constant companion.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough and low when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he muttered. “Nothing’s worked before.”

Her heart clenched at his words, at the defeat in his tone. "We won’t know unless we try," she said softly, watching his reaction.Bucky’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “Fine.” The word was gruff, a reluctant concession more than agreement. He glanced at her from under his brow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. "Just... don’t expect too much."

With that, he turned and led her toward his quarters.

Once the door was shut, she sat on the end of his double bed. "Alright. Lay down and rest your head on my thighs."

Bucky eyed her warily, tightening his jaw. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, this kind of intimacy. After a long moment, though, the exhaustion and lingering unease from the nightmare tugged at him too strongly. With a resigned sigh, he climbed onto the bed and lay on his side, hesitating briefly before resting his head on her thighs.

“There,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the soft fabric of her clothes. “Don’t think this means I’m letting my guard down completely.”

Despite his gruff tone, she could feel the weight of his weariness. His body was tense, but the warmth of her legs seemed to be doing its work already.

She began running her fingers gently through his hair. "That’s exactly what I need you to do," she whispered. "Don’t fight me, Bucky. Relax and let me take care of you."

He inhaled deeply, her scent filling his senses, calming him. The tension in his shoulders began to ebb away, though he stubbornly clung to a sliver of resistance. "I don’t need to be taken care of," he grumbled, even as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Whatever you say, hun,” she teased softly.

Bucky let out a low grunt, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced soothing lines through his hair. The sensation sent calming waves through his body, unraveling his nerves one strand at a time. He didn’t have the energy to resist anymore, he was too drained from the nightmare, too tired of fighting his own mind.

"I’m not your hun..." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, despite himself. He buried his face deeper into her lap, inhaling her scent again. It was soothing, pulling him further from the chaos of his mind.

“Oh, shush,” she said, brushing the protest aside, still moving her fingers through his dark locks.

For once, Bucky complied. He fell silent, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat becoming the only sound in the room. The quiet, steady thump-thump echoed in his ears, an oddly comforting melody amidst the storm of his thoughts.

"Your heartbeat..." he murmured almost sleepy, "It’s kind of nice." The confession slipped out but for once, he didn’t regret it.

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its gentle motion. “Oh? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe because regular people can’t hear it without... closer contact.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips at her remark, but he didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he allowed himself to lean into her touch, the soft strokes through his scalp lulling him into a state of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. His hand drifted almost unconsciously to her thigh, tracing small circles over her skin.

She continued her gentle ministrations, pouring her power into the touch. Slowly, bit by bit, Bucky’s muscles softened, and the weight of his nightmares slipped away as her presence guided him somewhere safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel it. The calm. The peace. The quiet.

-----

After a while she sighed, exhausted from using her powers to push against the weight of his severe trauma. Now, she had to figure out how to leave without waking him. He was sleeping deeply, his mind finally at peace after months of restless nights. Yet, despite his slumber, he wasn’t entirely defenseless. His subconscious remained alert, picking up on the slightest changes around him.

As she carefully prepared to slip away, Bucky's eyes flickered open, revealing half-lidded blue irises clouded with drowsiness. Without a word, his hand reached out, as if instinctively sensing her intention to leave. His grip was light but firm, curling his fingers on her thigh with an unconscious possessiveness.

"Shhh," she whispered, wincing internally as she resumed running her fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him back to sleep. She knew it was a lost battle; any attempt to leave would only rouse him further. Resigned, she reached for some unused pillows and cushions nearby, pulling them close as she reclined, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep while sitting up.

The rhythmic strokes of her fingers seemed to draw him back from the edge of wakefulness. Bucky nuzzled into her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he settled back into a deep slumber. As she adjusted her position, using the pillows to support her back, he instinctively shifted with her, seeking out the warmth of her body. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer as he mumbled incoherently in his sleep.

At some point, she fell asleep too, physically drained from using all her energy to ease his haunted mind. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to slumber was the weight of his head still resting on her lap, her hand gently tangled in his soft hair.

-----

Bucky stirred slightly in his sleep, brushing his nose against the soft fabric of her cotton nightie. Her scent filled the air around him, a mix of sweetness and warmth that seeped into his senses, pulling him deeper into the haze of his dreams. A low groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating through her thigh, dangerously close to her mound. His hand clenched reflexively, fingers digging into her leg without conscious thought.

In his dream state, his mind began to wander, unraveling the careful control he kept during his waking hours. Images of her flooded his thoughts, her curves, her laugh, the sense of safety she gave him. But beneath those tender, innocent thoughts stirred something he tried so hard to suppress: raw longing.

His breathing quickened as his subconscious registered the intimate contact, even as he remained lost in the depths of sleep. His hips twitched involuntarily, pressing his growing arousal into the mattress, seeking relief.

In his dream, she was there, waiting for him, glowing and inviting. He felt her softness under his hands, the curve of her waist beneath his fingers, and the way she melted into his touch. His lips brushed against her inner thighs, teasing, tasting, drawing out soft moans of pleasure that only made the fire inside him burn hotter.

In the real world, his hips twitched involuntarily, pressing against the mattress as his body sought relief. His chest heaved, and low, almost inaudible whimpers escaped his parted lips. Lost in the dream, he chased an elusive release, each shift and grind against the sheets a reflection of the ache deep within him.

And then, it all came crashing down.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. Reality quickly surged forward, sweeping away the fantasy. The warm weight of her hand still rested gently on his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She was peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, blissfully unaware of the storm he had just woken from.

His body went rigid and a flush crept up his neck, as the remnants of his dream lingered in his mind. Worse than that, was the sticky mess staining his underwear.

Fuck.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he extracted himself from her lap, careful not to disturb her. He rolled off the bed and landed heavily on his feet, moving stiffly with mortification. His hand instinctively moved to his groin, tugging his underwear slightly to reveal the copious evidence of his release. A low curse escaped his lips as he took in the sight, and shame heated his face. Without a second glance, he padded to the bathroom, humiliated.

Minutes later she stirred, feeling her legs lighter, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The memories of offering to soothe Bucky’s mind with her powers came back to her, along with the feeling of being trapped, unable to leave without waking him. But now, as she blinked and stretched, she realized he was gone. Her back and neck throbbed from the awkward position she had slept in, so she slowly got up from his bed and took the opportunity to return to her own room, crawling into her bed to continue sleeping, unaware of the events that transpired before she awoke.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained in the bathroom, leaning heavily against the sink. A storm of guilt, shame, and relief swirled inside him. Guilt for what had happened so close to her, shame at the explicit nature of his dream, and relief that he’d managed to sneak away without waking her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of the fantasy that had caught him off guard so thoroughly.

------

They didn’t cross paths during the day, except late in the afternoon when Tony handed Natasha some VIP invitations to a charity event for her and Y/n. Bucky was sitting across the room on the couch, but his enhanced hearing made it impossible not to overhear. Natasha has found it amusing to join in a bachelorette’s auction at the event and, naturally, she dragged the healer into it to help raise more funds.

When she entered the room, Bucky couldn’t help but steal glances at her and the vivid memories of his dream came rushing back. The black dress with a low neckline -and were those mesh stockings?- did nothing to dissipate the discomfort.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, manspreading on the couch looking unsurprisingly grumpy. She walked over and plopped down next to him, leaning in slightly. “Hey,” she greeted chirpily. “I didn’t see you all day. Did you rest after our session? Any nightmares?”

Bucky’s frown deepened as he took in her revealing dress, and his gaze lingered for a second too long before flicking up to meet hers. “Well I actually had a nightmare.” he barked bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he turned away again.

“Oh Bucky, really?” she asked, absentmindedly resting her hand on his arm. “You seemed fine when I fell asleep... I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Fine? No, I wasn’t fucking fine,” he snapped. His eyes drifted down to the swell of her breasts, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, reigniting the memories of his dream and sending another wave of heat through his body. He scoffed, turning his head to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Maybe you thought you did something, but you didn't. It was a waste of my time,” he muttered under his breath.

She recoiled, and her heart stung at his words. She’d felt the connection, sensed the calm that had washed over him during their session. She truly believed she’d helped. His harsh tone caught her off guard, and the hurt was unmistakable in her voice as she stood up abruptly.

“Oh, I see. We’re on square one again, where you treat me like shit. You know what Bucky? I’m tired of this. I don't know what your problem is, but I don't care anymore. Go fuck yourself.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed toward the private quarters area, leaving him there, sitting in stunned silence.

------

The time to go to the charity event had arrived, and she and Natasha were all dressed up with the final touches, ready to be auctioned off in the playful bachelor and bachelorette game.

Tony, ever the social butterfly, was already acting as the host, ironing out the final details of the evening’s festivities. Steve, the ever-reliable friend and gentleman, had offered to tag along to ensure everything stayed civil and vanilla. Sam showed up at the last minute, his trademark grin plastered on his face. He winked at her and Natasha, flirting playfully and joking about bidding himself.

She smiled at his lightheartedness, but her attention kept drifting toward the couch across the room where Bucky sat, even if he had started to act like an asshole again. He’d been silent since they exchanged those heated words, barely looking up from his spot. His broad frame seemed more hunched than usual as if the weight of the night ahead was pressing down on him.

Sam, ever the instigator, swaggered over to where Bucky sat, giving him a playful nudge. “What’s up, Tinman? You look like you're about to blow a fuse,” he teased, not missing the tightness in Bucky’s jaw.

He didn’t respond immediately, flicking his eyes briefly toward Sam before dropping back down. He was clearly in no mood for jokes, but Sam wasn’t one to back down that easily.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know about this,” he added, grinning. “I left you, like, four texts reminding you about the event. Figured you might want to leave the grumpy soldier routine behind for one night.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah, I saw them,” he muttered under his breath. The truth was, the event had been gnawing at him all day. Seeing her walking in earlier, dressed to the nines, had stirred something deep and unsettling in him. Her sleek black dress with that low neckline, and those mesh stockings… he had barely been able to look at her without feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

But it wasn’t just the sight of her that was bothering him. Something darker was creeping up from the edges of his memory, something happened a long time ago.

The room around him faded as a distant echo of laughter, sharp and malicious, filled his ears. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the memories flooded back with unwanted details. He saw himself, chained and silent, paraded like an animal in front of an audience of Hydra’s elite. The “auction,” as they had called it, was a twisted form of entertainment where the highest bidder won him for the night. They'd done whatever they wanted to him. Their hands were rough and unforgiving, their words venomous. He’d been stripped of everything, even the ability to fight back. His mind replayed the worst moments, the feeling of hands on him, unwanted touches, and the physical pain when they decided to test his limits. Bucky remembered the smirks on their faces as they violated him in every way they saw fit, knowing he was powerless to retaliate. His body might heal, but his mind was left in tatters every time. He could still hear their voices, cruel and mocking, as they reminded him how easy it was to break him down, to own him.

Suddenly, he was back on the couch, his hands clenched into tight fists as his breathing quickened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. The memory of his dream from the night before twisted with these recollections, blurring the line between the past and present. Bucky had felt trapped then, just like he felt trapped now. And the thought of her being up there, in front of all those people, being "bought" for the night just for fun triggered him.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still. It was irrational, he knew that. But the line between the past and the present blurred too easily for him sometimes, and the fear -no, the shame- of what he had endured at Hydra’s hands refused to let him breathe freely.

Sam smirked, unfazed by Bucky’s short response. “Don’t sweat it, man. You can just sit back and watch me win a date with one of these fine ladies tonight. I’m feeling lucky.” He flashed an exaggerated wink at the women, earning a raised eyebrow from Nat in return.

Tony clapped his hands, signaling that it was time to start heading out. As everyone began moving, Bucky remained glued to his spot on the couch.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Bucky’s head, Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he tried to coax his friend into joining them at the event. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly seeing the tension but refusing to let Bucky sit it out. “What, you’re scared you can’t handle a little charity event?” he taunted, his tone light but with just enough edge to poke at Bucky’s pride. “Steve’s already going, and you know how much he loves playing the perfect gentleman. You really gonna let him be the only one representing the ‘old-timer squad’?” He smirked, knowing this tactic might work. “Thought you were tougher than that.”

Bucky huffed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to get over this shit, Sam won’t leave him alone, and… fuck, he had to man up.  “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice was barely audible but enough for Sam to catch the reluctant agreement. “But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

-----

The limo was packed, the air inside was thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. She was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped space.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to them. “He’s right, though,” Steve said warmly. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

She blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Stevie. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Bucky in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, man?” Sam teased again, noticing his tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky clenched his jaw harder and flexed his metal fingers, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered in warning. See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially her- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, flicking her gaze toward Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant and cold like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

The thought dug deeper than she expected, feeling a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it nagged her. She hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip before leaning in slightly. Her voice came out edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before quickly turning into something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was going on in his head, and the fact that she thought all this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath “Just drop it, okay?” he answered gruffly.

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway. “Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business anyway.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve as if wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, his lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and her, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

-----

Finally, the limo of awkwardness reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

She practically bolted out of the car, and Natasha followed her with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the tense ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow to her, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets with stiff shoulders as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the crowd's edge, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d already made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, with his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour, and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

Nat looked at them, unimpressed. “I don’t know why the guys didn’t want to join, they would’ve wiped all wallets with only a wink”.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

She had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, and his gaze was locked onto the stage but somehow distant, as if he wasn’t there. His seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there with his arms crossed, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melted together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and his body started trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow as his steps quickened. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, but his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, and the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, focusing on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She speeded up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct or something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually, she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to glimpse him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustrated and worried as she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when a movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, with his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with the mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, with loose strands clinging to his forehead and others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes were fixed on the ground, and his breaths kept coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Her heart clenched. He was hiding not just physically, but emotionally too. He retreated into that dark place, one she had seen before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, with a gentle tone, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare gripping at him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, he did nothing. He remained hunched, with his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, and his gaze shifted ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s… I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, locking her eyes on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat worked against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his fingers twitched in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the minutes dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, tightening her grip on his hand, as a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw at her words. After all the terrible things he'd done, he didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what mortified him more was how he’d been with her recently, pushing her away, when he knew his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten with a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the comfort her presence brought him. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing slowly as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His trembling fingers, rough and scarred, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, and his chest started to rise and fall in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, and his blue eyes met hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh,  as his body shifted again, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, and his body sank into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to…?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. Then, she let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, while her touch never faltered. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

-----

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, pausing her fingers in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the building cast long shadows across the topiary.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move immediately. His head still rested on her lap, as if he could will the world away for just a little longer. But eventually, with a low sigh, he pushed himself up, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah. We can’t… be seen like this,” he muttered, gazing at the mud-streaked ruins of his suit.

She glanced down at herself and grimaced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she teased softly, brushing at her dress, though the stubborn stains refused to budge.

The topiary garden felt worlds away from the glittering ballroom, but their predicament remained clear: how were they going to make it back to the compound without being seen? They exchanged a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, just as the crunch of footsteps on gravel reached their ears.

They barely had time to react before Sam appeared from behind a meticulously trimmed hedge, coming to an abrupt stop in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and rumpled clothes. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby wall as his smirk grew wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed in frustration, rerunning a hand through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sam, got any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

She felt her face heating as she shot a horrified look at Sam. “No, that’s not-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” he said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tinman. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, mortified. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling, hm?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands while Bucky shot him a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

------

The night was still and the distant hum of the city was barely audible as Bucky and her walked along the deserted road. The event had been settled on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

He walked a few steps ahead, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, and the guilt crept into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. Her skimpy dress had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, with a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket, she took in his scent, subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, and she liked it.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

He kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, finally, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly.

Her steps faltered slightly, tightening her fingers around the sleeves. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve sent her after you, instead of following you myself.”

Bucky frowned. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, as her insecurities pushed her to finally explain. “Well, because of what Sam said on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, and her voice wavered slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, with barely contained frustration. “Why the hell would you think that?”

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand up and down through the strap of her dress, exhaling in frustration. “And then, when Sam made that joke, it just… fit, you know? it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s tensed his jaw, and a storm brewed behind his eyes as he stepped closer to her. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, full of rawness as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding hard as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.”

Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began in a softer and more vulnerable tone "if I told you I like you too?"

Bucky froze. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, and something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, dropping his gaze to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, and you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is only take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head.  “I’m a grown woman, Bucky, and I’m very capable of making my own decisions. I’ve decided... I want to give us a try if you are ok with that.”

His expression shifted as he stared at her, “I don’t know how to do this.” he whispered. His heart was pounding, torn between fear and longing. He hesitantly hovered his dirty hand between them, and when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise… I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, so low his voice was barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy, Buck,” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m asking for you.”

Something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay, let’s…” he murmured. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, locking his eyes on hers. Her hand was still in his, warm, grounding and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His vibranium hand cupped the side of her face, brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, his forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence was more comforting than any words could be. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, and she leaned against his caress.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking, doll. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melting away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, letting out a low chuckle, and his voice was a deep rumble she felt against her chest. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, with mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.” She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark and hid her face on his nape.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed faintly, his gaze was fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, tightening her arms slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent momentarily, letting her words sink into his mind. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, brushing her lips against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

His throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

The path ahead was uncertain, messy, and strewn with shadows, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt that maybe he didn’t have to walk it alone.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[chrissieshauntedbones]

This is not the slightest bit true.

Maybe for some corporate offices / corporate based retail chains & the like where you are just a number, then MAYBE this could be true... but in today's world, this doesn't seem to hold up, or, it at least hasn't been my experience.

I have worked in some form of management role between three different jobs over the course of 7 years prior to the car crash I had been in, back in 2023. When I had interviewed for each position prior to getting them, I had been my genuine and authentic self.

For context, I was an assistant manager, then was promoted to a store manager, and managed two different store locations for a retail CORPORATE store. I was, however, being underpaid, so I had requested a review and raise, and though my review went spectacularly, they could not offer me the pay I wanted, and I left to work in a Doctor's office. I got weekends off and had great health insurance, and the latest I would be home would be 7pm most nights vs 9pm, so it was a no brainer to leave.

When I worked in the Doctors office, I climbed the chain fast, and went from a front desk worker, to a site supervisor, before being promoted to the front desk manager for all SIX locations. A few months later COVID hit, and I lost a lot of my staff. I HAD to work, I couldn't afford to stay home... So, I got worn down real fast, and wound up butting heads with the practice admin. She was honestly awful. There was no way I could come to any sort of compromise with this woman, so, when I received a job offer from a friend, I left to work in a construction based field doing office work...

After 5 months in my most recent job i had been promoted to the office manager/service manager, then was relieved of the service manager position, but was given the sales manager title that way my skills could be better utilized.

In every role I applied for, I had been honest, polite, attentive, and I asked questions. I didn't try to pretend to be anything I wasnt, and wound up getting the jobs.

In these management positions, I was responsible for interviewing, hiring, and training new staff members, as well as doing my own job duties, which usually went hand in hand with whatever my team was responsible for.

In every field I had been working in, when I went to interview someone, depending on the role I was hiring for (receptionist, cashier, scheduler, customer service rep, etc) the criteria obviously changed slightly to fit the role, but overall, I looked for people who had experience with the position I was looking to fill, and I looked for people who could show an overall level of basic competency.

I also always looked for:

Empathy

Compassion

Kindness

Responsibility

A sense of humor!!!

The ability to work under pressure

The ability to work as a group or on their own

The ability to ask questions (you would not believe how often people are afraid to ask questions about all sorts of things in fear of being judged)

The ability to take constructive criticism as well as give constructive criticism

I actually called prior employers to confirm employment dates, and would just ask how they were overall. I never asked for specifics. Just how they were seen in their role, and if they had any issues that needed coaching, or caused write ups (it would not be held against the applicant, just so that way I could understand a separation from the previous job better).

I almost always hired people based off of their personalities, and their eagerness & willingness to work (as long as the experience was there).

I worked with my employees, and constantly trained, offered help and support, and did what I could for them.

I would always want someone to be honest with me at an interview, because spewing information at me isn't going to prove your ability to do a job or work with a team... It's just going to prove that you can read, which I suppose is important, but there are far more important qualities people have which make them valuable employees.

remember that interviews are not about giving a good and honest first impression that they'll carefully consider. interviews are about saying the special words and phrases they're looking for that give you points and when they tally those up whoever earned the most job points wins

[zhelin-thames]

Since the majority of the ppl Chose "Danny as Ra's overpowered ex that Ra's still simps over" I give youuuuuuu

The Ghost King and the Demon’s Heart

The League of Assassins’ base was unusually quiet. Too quiet, considering the Batfamily was storming the place. Batman led the charge, followed closely by Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, and Batgirl. Their mission was clear: stop Ra’s al Ghul from completing yet another dangerous ritual.

“Move!” Batman barked as they pushed deeper into the stone fortress, their shadows flickering under the dim torchlight.

They burst into a grand chamber, its walls etched with ancient carvings. At its center stood Ra’s al Ghul, bathed in an eerie green glow, his arms raised as he chanted in a language no one could understand. Around him, a circle of glowing runes pulsed with power.

“Stop him!” Batman ordered, and the team sprang into action.

Robin threw a smoke bomb to disorient the guards while Red Hood and Nightwing engaged the assassins. Batgirl worked on disabling the defensive mechanisms surrounding the circle. But despite their efforts, Ra’s’ loyalists held them off long enough. The ritual reached its climax.

The glowing circle erupted in a flash of green light, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When the light subsided, they saw him.

Standing in the center of the circle was a figure unlike anything they had expected. A man, tall and imposing, radiated an aura of raw power. His eyes glowed a vibrant green, and a faint mist swirled around his form. A silver crown rested atop his head, and a dark cloak shimmered like the night sky.

The room fell silent. Even the League’s assassins froze, uncertain whether to attack or flee.

Ra’s al Ghul’s stoic expression melted into something uncharacteristically human—pure adoration.

“Beloved,” Ra’s whispered, taking a step toward the man.

The figure raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Ra’s,” he replied flatly, his tone laced with annoyance. “Still messing with forces you barely understand, huh?”

Nightwing leaned toward Red Hood. “Did he just call Ra’s ‘Ra’s’ like it’s his nickname?”

“Forget that,” Red Hood muttered. “Did Ra’s just call this guy ‘beloved’? What the hell is going on?”

Ra’s ignored them, his focus solely on the glowing figure. “It has been centuries, my king. You are as radiant as ever. Surely you feel it too—the pull of destiny that binds us still.”

The man—Danny—rolled his glowing eyes. “Ra’s, we dated for three months, centuries ago. It wasn’t destiny; it was boredom. Get over it.”

Ra’s clutched his chest dramatically, as though Danny’s words had physically wounded him. “You wound me, my love. No one has ever compared to you. Not in power, nor in beauty.”

The Batfamily collectively recoiled.

“Wait,” Nightwing whispered, wide-eyed. “Did we just crash a lover’s spat?”

“Focus,” Batman growled, though even he looked taken aback.

Before Danny could retort, a voice broke through the tension.

“Father,” Talia al Ghul stepped into the room, her expression a mix of awe and frustration. “You summoned the High King of the Infinite Realms? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Danny’s glowing gaze shifted to her and then to Damian, who stood rigidly beside Batman. Danny’s expression softened.

“And who’s this?” Danny asked, crouching slightly to meet Damian’s eyes.

Damian hesitated, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Batman stepped forward. “That’s my son.”

Danny blinked, his gaze darting between Damian and Batman. A slow, amused smile spread across his face.

“Your son?” Danny chuckled. “Ra’s has a grandson now? Oh, this just got interesting.”

Damian scowled. “Are you implying—”

“I like you already,” Danny interrupted with a grin.

Nightwing snickered. “I think Damian just found his favorite relative.”

Ra’s, however, bristled. “Beloved, surely you do not wish to lower yourself to mingle with mortals.”

Danny turned to him, unimpressed. “Mortals? Ra’s, your ‘immortality’ is a cheap parlor trick compared to what I deal with daily. Honestly, it’s cute you think you’re still relevant.”

Ra’s faltered, his usual composure cracking under the weight of Danny’s words.

Danny turned back to Batman. “So, why are you all here? Stopping one of Ra’s’ schemes, I assume?”

Batman nodded. “We weren’t expecting… you.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He glanced at Ra’s. “Do me a favor. Stick to your League and leave the realms out of your drama. The last thing I need is another cosmic mess because you’re lonely.”

“Beloved—” Ra’s started, but Danny raised a glowing hand, silencing him.

“Nope. We’re done here.”

Danny turned to Damian. “Seriously, kid, if you ever need advice about Ra’s, hit me up. I’ve got centuries’ worth of stories.” He paused, looking at the Batfamily. “And Bats? Keep doing what you’re doing. Lady Gotham’s lucky to have you.”

Before anyone could respond, Danny waved his hand, opening a swirling green portal. He stepped through, leaving behind stunned silence.

Ra’s stared longingly at the spot where Danny had vanished. “One day, my Beloved,” he murmured. “One day, we shall reunite.”

Nightwing broke the silence with a laugh. “Well, that was… something. Can’t wait to tell Alfred.”

Red Hood smirked. “I’m never letting Ra’s live this down.”

Damian crossed his arms, glaring at his family. “I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

Batman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not now.”

And with that, the Batfamily left the chamber, leaving Ra’s al Ghul alone with his heartache and the faint green glow of the fading ritual.

Masterpost

[cthulhus-curse]

Extra Credit

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 6,020

Warnings: Age Difference, Alluded CSA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship | 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Hopefully I scheduled this & the other fics correctly and not for the following year because I may no longer be around to fix it.

Summary: A series of snapshots of loving months alongside your professor which lead up to one of the most difficult decisions you’ve made in your life.

“Good morning, sunshine. Ready for another day of work?”

Although exhaustion ripped through your body, the sound of the woman’s voice made you smile. You learned to enjoy it through the past few weeks. Each day you woke up at what felt like the crack of dawn and went straight to work. Although it was right on campus, an office not too far from your dormitory, you weren’t used to being awake at such early hours. At least the pay was good and your boss was even better, you mused. 

“I can’t wait,” you replied flatly. Your boss, Professor Romanoff, came up to the desk you called a home ever since being hired. She held up two cups – one was her usual morning coffee and the other scalding hot chocolate topped off by a mountain of whipped cream. As always, she called you a child for picking that over anything caffeine-heavy. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Gotta keep my little assistant awake enough to get through the day,” Natasha chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy for you. We just have to get through grading some papers and then the rest of the shift is yours.”

The smirk remained plastered over your features as she handed you the hot chocolate before moving further in her office. Being the head of the English department at your university, Natasha got her privacy intact. It’s not like she was thrilled to work with her fellow professors anyway. 

“I heard there was a big party being hosted by your friends in the girl’s soccer team. I assume you’re planning on going?” Natasha’s tone was filled with curiosity, but never anger when she so much as alluded to your private life, specifically that having to do with one Wanda Maximoff. “I can let you go a few hours early if you need to get ready. Classes are done for the semester and you need to enjoy your college years. I’m sure Miss Maximoff would be happy to see you again. I know she means a lot to you.”

Ever since you had accepted the job as Natasha’s assistant, Wanda had given you the cold shoulder. You had spoken to her from time to time, but only when she came back to the dorm after days of being away, only to leave once again. At first you blame yourself for causing a rift in your relationship, if one could even call it that, but eventually you came to realize just how immature she was – taking a simple job offer did not mean your feelings for her changed in any way. 

“I actually haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s staying at Carol and Val’s place I think,” you shrugged while taking a sip of your drink. The way it burned its way onto your tongue and down your throat caused you to hum happily. 

“Oh? And how are you feeling about that?”

“I’m taking it pretty well. You know she’s not very fond of you and I think I pissed her off by agreeing to work for who she deems as ‘a fucking witch bitch’. It’s just childish and stupid,” you rolled your eyes at the mere idea of it. “I hate being someone’s second choice like that. She doesn’t even see how much I love her.”

Just like Wanda didn’t see you, you didn’t see Natasha. Your professor was crestfallen at the voices you threw at her. She hated seeing you in such pain, not being able to do anything about the mistreatment you received from your casual fling. The older woman cared for you, perhaps more than she led on – the mere image of seeing you in pain made bile rise up your throat before it was maintained in place. 

“Then it’s her loss. You deserve better than that, honey. You’re an amazing, beautiful, and smart woman. You don’t need to be sitting around waiting for someone to notice you. If she doesn’t like you the same way you like her, then it’s time to move on,” Natasha explained as she attempted to keep her own emotions at bay. She threw a sympathetic look your way even if you didn’t notice it. “Listen Y/N, I know we aren’t as close as you are with Miss Maximoff, but I care about you. You are by far my brightest student yet and I see so much potential in you. You don’t deserve to be thrown around like trash, only used when she gets bored with someone else. You deserve the world.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna give me that?”

The ‘me’ went unspoken from Natasha. She simply sagged her head and stared down at the mountain of paperwork laying in her desk. It would be to no avail if she decided to work – with a brain oozing with thoughts of you, her focus disrupted. 

“How about we try something different today? We can work for a bit and then I can take you out for lunch. My treat,” Natasha said. “How does that sound? I just hate seeing you like this, sweetie.”

You thought about it for a second. There was something awfully safe about Natasha. As much as you wished to spend countless hours obsessing over Wanda, sometimes you found yourself humoring the idea of your professor. She was sweet, always protective as she huffed at the idea of you being hurt. At first you assumed it was some sort of motherly instinct, but after having caught yourself staring down her cleavage from time to time, the top buttons of her blouse always open, and she stared back with a smile, you knew something much more intimate lay beneath. 

“I’d like that,” you replied, suddenly drunk on Natasha’s presence as Wanda was left behind. 

“Good! Now time to work, hon. You don’t get paid to sit all day and look pretty,” the redhead chuckled at her own joke, suddenly feeling much more rejuvenated. “If you finish quickly, maybe we can grab some dessert as well.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A shudder ran down your body as hands traveled across your back. Fingernails left heavy trails in their wake, surely to be worn with the utmost pride. You hummed, eyes closed while holding still, standing there naked as the day you were born. In the dusk of the room, you let yourself be the center of attention; the center of her attention. 

“What did she do this time?” Natasha asked from behind. Her mouth was quickly upon your upper back, kissing its way along your shoulder blades. Never did she lose her tenderness when touching you. “Tell me, darling girl. Use your words.”

You didn’t know when it had begun. One day you were at work standing in front of your boss’s desk before you became trapped against it. The first time Natasha kissed you was then and there. Neither could hold back the attraction you shared for one another. No longer did you prioritize Wanda as you allowed your professor to take you. 

“I found her sleeping with Kate. She was…she was laying in my bed, Nat. I saw them and just ran away. She fucked her in my bed!” You sobbed, but didn’t allow yourself to shed tears. Not long before you had promised yourself never to cry over Wanda again. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I just thought of you and ran.”

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I hate that she keeps hurting you,” Natasha mumbled back as she hugged you from behind. “Don’t you dare run away this late at night again. You know how much I worry about you. I’m just a phone call away, malyshka. Always.” 

“I’m sorry,” you responded before biting down on your lip. “I promise I’ll be good from now on. Your good girl, right?”

“Darling, you are always my good girl.”

Natasha motioned you to get on the bed, your head against a pillow as your ass remained up in the air. She allowed her hands to roam over your backside, smirking as a hand went down against a cheek. It was only a soft hit. Never did Natasha wish to inflict any horrid pain over you. As her eyes noticed the faint bruises Wanda left along your skin, she huffed. 

The redhead stood over you. She carried a dildo between her legs that was attached to a harness. Similar to you, she was fully nude minus for the red briefs she wore. Strong arms reeking with muscles held you close. As she inched the toy between your legs, you let out a loud moan. 

“I don’t like how she hurts you. I know you like it, Y/N, but she leaves you looking like a piece of meat. Does she even take care of your wounds, baby? Or does she leave you like that after hitting you until you’re crying out for her to stop?” Natasha questioned, already knowing what the answer was. Ever since first seeing your body, she was the one who took care of you as a surrogate for Wanda. “I know I can’t control what you do, but honey, this isn’t right. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Rather than vocalize your response, you hid your face against the pillow. Natasha slid inside you softly, allowing the dildo to fill you with ease. There was a grunt that you basked upon – it was low and throaty filled with your professor’s longing desire. She used all her force to drag you into a makeshift sitting position. From then on, Natasha allowed herself to, only gently, give you the pleasure Wanda failed to gift you with. 

“I want more,” you begged, eyes rolled to the back of your head the further Nat moved inside of you. Movements were languid and sloppy. All the older woman focused on was your own pleasure, not speed or roughness. Unlike Wanda, she took her time getting to know exactly what to do and how to touch you. “Please, mommy, I need more!”

“Whatever you want, my little angel.”

Natasha did not spend time rummaging through the newfound honorific. She beamed at it, but didn’t comment on anything. Instead, she thrust her hips forth fucking you with love that Wanda never gave you. Kisses were spread all across your back. Each grunt, each little noise she made mixed with your own, made you feel in heaven. 

Hands gripped your breasts from behind. They squeezed the mounds tightly, rolling erect nipples through the fingers. As Natasha pumped the strap-on in you, your cunt dripping with juices while velvety walls hugged her tight, she brought a hand down your body. Fingertips pressed against your clit and began teasing it, flicking the bud as you screamed loudly – surely her neighbors would hear. 

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how you’re taking my cock. My pretty, little girl,” Natasha moaned when hugging you tight. She nuzzled her face against your shoulder before nipping your skin. There were various hickeys left upon you, signs for Wanda to see if you ever dared return to her. Natasha knew you weren’t hers, but each second she spent with you made her crave you even more. “I bet she can’t fuck you like this, can she? That little…she can’t make you feel this good. Only I can make it better. I’m the only one that will ever keep you safe and you know this.”

When you finally came, Natasha was there to keep you close. She remained frozen in place as your orgasm shot through your body. Not even a second passed before she inched you on the bed, allowing you to rest upon the soft mattress with the dildo still inside you. 

“I never want to see you hurt again. If she ever does this to you, if you end up going back, I want you to call me when you need me. I never break a promise,” Natahsa muttered as she placed a kiss over the back of your head. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

From then on, you found yourself hesitating each time you merely humored the idea of going back to Wanda. Even if you told yourself that the relationship with Natasha was nothing more than platonic, you questioned the validity of such a statement. Every second you spend with her, you fall further for your professor. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Tell me about your family.”

The two of you had escaped the cruel Bostonian summer filled with never-ending traffic and burning skyscrapers. It was the dead-center of the season and the entire city was plagued by a mix of potential commuters for the various academic institutions or those who, for some reason, decided for it to be her vacation destination.

Natasha had taken you away to a small town across the state. It was remote, small enough so that the two of you could enjoy your life in public without the student body of the university to find you. All you had done was pack all the bags you could muster for the weekend getaway. It was peace which became well-deserved. 

You weren’t much of a fan of them, but Nat had always spoken highly of the times she took her sister to pick out peaches ever since she first learned how to drive. The two of them would escape into an orchard in the depths of Ohio and come out with their hands full with fruits. The mere memory she shared with you was enough to get you to agree to her plans. 

“Well, there’s really not much to talk about. I was adopted by Melina and Alexei,” Natasha began as though it was the most casual thing in the world to refer to her parents by their given names. “I have a sister, also adopted, named Yelena. She’s the light of my life. A bit of an asshole I must say, but she’s the one I care about most.”

“Yelena Belova? That’s your sister?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows; it was a name similar to that of a member of Wanda’s team. 

“Yes. I realize she’s friends with Miss Maximoff,” Natasha replied with apparent dismay. “As hard as I’ve tried to keep her away from that girl, the two are almost inseparable. I trust her enough to not do anything overly stupid though. Lena has always been a bit of a firecracker.”

The two of you walked hand in hand along the orchard. There was not a label to whatever you had yet, but it didn’t care. Natasha was clear when she said she would never pressure you into it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be a free agent who, at times, found yourself wishing to have something more with your professor. 

Eyes roamed over the woman’s body. Usually you saw her in professional clothes or the occasional nightgown when you stayed over at her place, but never with a pair of shorts and a loose camisole. There were sunglasses shielding Natasha’s viridescent eyes from the sun, but you had looked into them for long enough to memorize their beauty. 

You noticed how she covered her body from time to time, hands over her thighs, cowering away from the nonexistent public that dared gawk in her general direction. It hurt to see. She was the perfect image of beauty to you, but a disgusting void to herself. 

There were rare moments in which Natasha allowed you to touch her. She was a fan of studying each and every one of your favorite sweet spots, running hands across your skin before making you giggle under the drunkenness of arousal. The few times you had placed your palms upon her frame you did so in a tender manner – Nat was a porcelain doll under your touch who could break at any seconds. It merely lasted a few seconds before she pushed you off and rushed to apologize for acting out, only for you to shoot her a warm smirk and tell her there was nothing wrong with that. 

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present and carried on. 

“Yeah, your sister’s always been nice to me though. She’s not as close with Wanda if that makes you feel better. I’ve mostly seen her chasing around that Kate girl. Maybe it’s an underclassmen thing,” you shrugged. “What about your parents?”

There was a pregnant pause, clear hesitation, before Natasha continued.

“Well, I never met my biological family nor did I care about seeking them out. My mom has always been amazing,” Natasha stopped for a second, her hands gliding across the peaches that she carefully eyed. “My father…not so much.”

“Why do you refer to her as mom and him as father?” came your question before you could help yourself.

It was clear her demeanor had changed. Natasha stood with her back straight, hands clasped in front of her as a means to shield herself. She only stared forth into nothingness. Her body was with you in the orchard while her mind went back to when she was a child – to when she was alone with him. 

“It makes it less personal,” she finally answered. “It’s also easier than calling him ‘the man whose wife wanted to adopt two kids he never wanted’ and then turned my childhood to shit. I grew up way too fast because of that…that durak!”

The yelp she let out was fueled with emotions you had yet to see. Natasha was rarely angry, let alone emotionally vulnerable to let you peek through her walls. Her body sagged after fighting so long being tense. You could see tears rushing down her face even with sunglasses that covered them, but knew not to make a comment.

“Nat, has he ever…?”

You didn’t want to humor such a thing. Even then, you already knew the answer given her body language and unspoken words. While you fought with the idea of potentially driving to her father’s house and beating him to a pulp, Natasha found herself glad it had been her over Yelena. If something were to happen to her sister, she would never forgive herself. Each time he came at night, the woman sacrificed herself. It was a small price to pay for her beloved sibling’s safety. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, baby,” Natasha said with a cracked voice, turning the other way to move further into the orchard. You gave her space knowing that whenever she felt comfortable enough to talk, she would. All you could do was follow along as the professor whispered again. “I’m sorry.”

But behind her broken tone, deep down, you could hear a younger Nat’s faint cry of ‘yes’. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

There were moments in which exhaustion overtook you during long tedious days. You could barely move a muscle and still feel as though life had been sucked out of you. Most of your summer was spent chasing around Natasha, who you remained working for throughout the following months with little to no workload. Being around the woman, doing mere iced coffee runs and chatting without a care in the world while in the office made you feel free for once in a lifetime – for the first time since you met Wanda, she was an afterthought. 

Natasha was quick to jump in and take care of you through those moments. She always acted out in small, loving ways when paying for your food, giving you rides, or merely holding your hand as the two of you walked into your next adventure. Her desperation to hold you in her arms and promise you all would be well was intense. There was love radiating from her a mile away which you were far too shortsighted to see. 

“Tell me what you need, malyshka. Come on, little darling, use your words.”

After a particularly difficult day, you found yourself safe in Natasha’s lap. There had been no overexertion of your being during that day. It had mostly been relaxing as you worked alongside your professor on a Friday, but when you received a call from Wanda midday, the woman asking you to meet up, you merely froze and broke down in the office – your ‘friend’ only reached out when she needed something from you and it had been nearly a month since you last spoke amicably. After you only hummed as a reply and ended the call, Natasha was there to break your fall. 

“Mommy’s here for you. I know today has been a really difficult day and that you’ve felt really stressed, but I don’t want you focusing on those icky thoughts. I just wish she didn’t hurt you like this,” came the older woman’s whisper as she pulled you close. The two of you had rushed out of the office even hours before Natasha liked calling it quits. Even as behind as she was with her future lesson planning, she still prioritized you before anything else. “Use your words, detka. Tell mommy how she can help.”

“I don’t even want to think,” you flatly mumbled with tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Hands gripped the professor’s clothes while your forehead lay frozen in her shoulder. With arms wrapped around your body you finally felt safe. “Please help me forget, Nat. I never want to think about her again. I just-” your words were cut short by a short while your voice was left cracked. 

“Shh it’s alright, my darling girl. Mommy’s here to make it all better.”

While holding you tight, Natasha allowed a hand to slip down your body. It snuck to your lap then between your legs. No teasing was found – she knew you how overwhelmed you were and was ready to give you whatever you wished for without question. When naked fingers went past the waistline of your sweats and underwear, landing upon your already throbbing sex, you couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. 

You quickly realized Natasha wanted to separate herself from the man who agreed to adopt her. He was rough, violent, and torturous much like how she saw Wanda, whereas your professor never failed to bring a smile to your face even as she smacked your backside harshly — she always soothed the skin with the palm of her hand before carrying on. She wanted, no, needed to break away from his grasp over her mind. Otherwise she’d end up as a battered slave of his once again. 

Fingertips brushed against your clit then studied the entirety of your slit while coating themselves in your everlasting slick. Natasha peppered your wet cheeks, filled with desolate tears, with kisses. She mumbled only the sweetest words while easing herself in you. You cried out about your sorrows, about Wanda’s mistreatment over you, while the older woman simply sat there and held you through it. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone who dares make you feel this bad is an idiot. Y/N, my love, you deserve the world,” Natasha said lovingly. She nuzzled her face against your own, foreheads pressed together with fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt. You couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to grind on them. Instead, you remained shaking as Natasha made it all better. “You never let yourself be treated like that by anyone, alright? Whether it’s Miss Maximoff or me, or anyone else. My darling angel should be treated as the princess she is. You’re one of a kind, honey, a perfect little bear. I never want you to forget just how valuable your existence is.”

Tears of joy were mixed with your gloomy ones. There were cries of pleasure and internal pain that Natasha never stopped supporting you through. She allowed her lips to touch down upon your own. With your orgasm approaching soon and her tender care, you were elated. 

“My sweet baby,” came Natasha’s hushed whisper. She made you come, your back arching while fingernails dug deep into the redhead’s outfit. There was a loud moan, though distant, that boomed across the room. Even as you fell apart, strong arms held you in place. Such a wondrous creature such as yourself, according to your boss, deserved to see the stars. “You did such a good job for mommy. Always my perfect girl,” she breathed out with fingers still deep inside you. “All mine.”

You swore there was a muttered ‘I love you’ thrown somewhere, but with the mix of mental and physical exhaustion raining down upon your body, you merely shrugged your shoulders and fell limp against Natasha. Although you wouldn’t admit it, your heart longed to say the words back – out of everyone in your life, you never expected to fall into the depths of love with your professor. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“I don’t know why you like this show so much. It’s just senseless killing and at the end they solve everything and go home.”

Although it was supposed to be a relaxing weekend towards the start of the Fall semester, you found the mind boggling statement to fill you with feigned rage. Even as classes began, the arrangement between you and the professor carried on. You still worked for her even if there were no classes in said semester you took with you. As disappointing as that was, you began seeing more of Natasha regardless in more ways than one. 

The two of you were sitting on the couch late one Friday night. You were exhausted with your course load and Natasha cursed off the new freshmen she had to teach; they always pretended to still be in high school. A bowl of popcorn was nestled between your legs. While you watched Criminal Minds, Natasha settled for insulting it. 

“It’s fun, Romanoff. Entertaining at the very least.” you shot back with a knowing smirk. You had been the one to introduce her to various shows. Who would’ve thought that the great Professor Romanoff was living underneath a rock her whole life? 

“Wow I’ve been demoted from mommy to Romanoff. That’s sad,” Natasha laughed before grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Probably Rossi,” came your shrug. “He’s the guy with the beard.”

“Really?” At the surprised tone your lover let out, you feigned offense. “I thought you’d like one of the girls. What about that brunette with the bangs?”

“Oh, Emily left for the Interpol. I would like JJ, but I don’t know. There’s just something cool about Rossi in this season.”

The two of you remained silent for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but then again, nothing was with Natasha by your side. Even if you slipped and fell in front of her, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The woman never judged you, instead supporting your every decision while also guiding you through life. You felt comfortable enough with her to be yourself. At times it felt as though it was you and Nat against the world. 

“Maybe you just have daddy issues,” Natasha casually offered. Moment passed before the two of you burst out laughing. Tears sprinkled in your eyes while your breath left your body. With the amusement that basked in the room, you both were giggling messes. 

“Hey!” you huffed when gaining some of your composure back and lightly slapping Natasha’s shoulder. “We both have daddy issues.”

“Fine, but I have more than you. Mostly because I’ve never actually met my real dad. Maybe he’s an asshole like Alexei,” Natasha giggled. She never failed to look radiant as ever, especially when laughing and seemingly worry-free. You had to do several double takes because the beauty that exuded from your professor was far too enthralling to break away from. As the laughter died down and you were left holding one another, her head on your shoulder while you leaned back against the couch, she spoke. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

You had both agreed to keep things unofficial and yet there was that unmistakable skip of a beat your heart underwent when Natasha spoke her words. Teeth gnawed at your bottom lip nervously. There were striking green eyes which made it difficult for you to ignore the pegged comment. While your heart longed you to reply with a ‘yes’, to finally be Natasha’s forever, your mouth reacted differently. 

For the rest of the evening the two of you sat by and finished watching the show. Natasha was silent as she ghosted over her house, leaving you alone in the living room before hiding out in her bedroom. It was the first night in months that you slept in the guest room by yourself. And to your dismay, you went to sleep listening to Natasha’s quiet sobs that escaped the privacy of her bedroom. You had felt bad for Wanda when she got sad about you seeing your professor casually, but listening to the redhead’s woes was synonymous with your heart being squeezed to death. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It was October when you fell in love. 

You returned to your dorm room days later behind the guise of assuming Natasha wished for you to be far away. She had barely spoken a word to you at work. Most of the time she sat by her desk with sagged shoulders, glasses perched at the edge of her nose, and glossy eyes hiding behind the frames. You desperately wished to say something, but when Wanda sweeped back into your life, the guilt ate at you until nothing was left behind. 

The Fall semester quickly rolled by. You were at the end of the month and still couldn’t sleep without seeing Natasha’s face tainted in your mind. At times when Wanda lay above you, hips thrusting with straps wrapped around them and letting out low grunts, you closed your eyes and imagined it was the older woman. The memories of her doing the same were soaked with humiliation. You had broken her heart, you knew. Never would you dare forgive yourself for having caused so much pain upon the frail, angelic woman. 

“I hate her so much,” Wanda had grumbled when you walked through campus hand-in-hand passing by a certain professor whose sight was solemnly trained on the floor. Your hand was squeezed as your eyes drifted to Natasha. As much as she seemingly hated you, all you wanted to do was run up to her, wrap her in your arms, and bed for forgiveness. Even if it would take ages, she was worth it. “Fucking bitch.”

Perhaps it was Wanda’s comment or the fact that you finally gained enough confidence through your depressive episode to take action, but that night you found yourself standing in front of Natasha’s house. Your roommate was long forgotten and for the first time in your life, you couldn’t care less about who she was fucking. All that mattered was the woman you, without admitting it, had fallen for. 

There was a desperate knock upon the hardwood door. There was furious rain which fell down upon your body. That along with the cool breeze of the night made you freeze in place. Still, you felt as though you deserved it. Even then, you’d do whatever it took for Natasha. 

“It’s 10pm on a Wednesday, Y/N. Someone better be dying,” were the first words Natasha spoke to you once the door swung open in a low grumbled voice you knew to be from when she awoke. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Did you come here to tell me how great Miss Maximoff is compared to-”

You cut her off by practically tackling Natasha into the house. Even if your body was dripping with the tears of the sky, you clung to the woman as though your life depended on it. She was clearly taken aback and yet never moved away. Instead her arms were left unmoving as you embraced her. That was good enough for you, you assumed. 

Putting your heart on the line has never been easy. You were the person who shoved her emotions so deep down that you somehow told yourself Wanda was the one for you. Although she hurt you so much, you still remained by her side. It wasn’t difficult to assume Natasha had felt something similar when you rejected her. She had spent countless months giving you the utmost love and never daring to ask for anything in return. You were always protected by her mere presence until one day you decided to throw it all away. Going to her house, you were without hope of being taken back. There was slight hesitation reeking in your chest, but as soon as you saw your former lover, you swore you fell for her once again – she would forever be worth it. 

“I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot and I admit it. I should’ve said yes to you,” you began. Life had been tedious without Natasha even if only for a few weeks. You hated how only a cold slap in the face in the shape of one Wanda Maximoff could awaken you from such a dismal nightmare. “I hurt you so badly and I never, ever expect for you to take me back. I was an asshole. A svo-lach' if you will,” you could practically feel Natasha’s slight smirk at the mention of a Russian word she had taught you. “I miss you and I don’t think I can do this without you. It’s probably stupid since we weren’t with each other for ages. It wasn’t official and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my girlfriend. It’s always been you, Nat and it always will be.”

No words were spoken as the door was locked and you were dragged to the bedroom. Even if dripping with water, Natasha helped undress you. She threw you against the bed, viridescent eyes twinkling under the dead of the night before taking her rightful position over your body. There was not an area of your freezing body that she didn’t kiss her way through as sudden warmth radiated from her skin and onto yours. 

When you first kissed her after weeks of being away, you swore there were fireworks going off. Never had kissing Wanda felt even remotely good or similar. You were enthralled by the way Natasha was seemingly everywhere. Her hands drifted up your body before taking your breasts into her palms and squeezing them, nipples rolling through her fingers before being pinched – she did always have an adorable fixation on your chest. There was a sense of longing within her. The two of you hadn’t been together for far too long. During the rest of the night, you explored what was missed, holding one another as cries of pleasure were let out. 

Positions were switched from time to time. Natasha would be on top before you pushed her against the mattress and had your head disappear between her legs. There was nothing to be said. You two communicated through sweet and rough touches, connecting as one without the need for words. There was a moment when you made her squirt, legs shaking as your fingers were dug deep inside her cunt. Natasha was left wide-eyed and suddenly droopy while you lapped at the mess – even when a spent mess, she was the most beautiful woman in the universe. 

When neither of you could keep going it was already the early hours of the morning. Your bodies were sore and marked with the reddened tracks of fingernails. It was the first time in ages that you finally felt as though you belonged. Natasha was your person, she was safe, and she was home. It was then that you, while fingers trailed across the back of the woman’s hand, decided never to dare leave her again. 

“I love you,” she muttered once you were breathing raggedly, laying back on the bed with bodies intertwined and hearts aligned. You felt yourself crawl out of your skin, frowning as the words were spoken. Without even daring to turn around, you went to grab Natasha’s hand. When squeezing it, you gave her your response. 

You couldn’t say it out loud, but she knew then you loved her too.

[plethorawrites]

Can you please write headcanons for other batboys+ Bruce when they turned into a cat like you did for Jason? Thank you ❤️

Absolutely!!! (This is a long one, so settle in!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was attacked by some crazy scientist trying to create mutant animals but instead changed him into a Lynx with giant ears and massive paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who, of course, attempted to micromanage everyone as they tried to help him— walking over the batcomputer and messing up Tim's research, sitting on top on the batmobile when one of the kids tried to take it, knocking things off whatever table he perched on while still trying to feel tall.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Alfred tried to calm down but ended up antagonizing further until he started meowing so loudly for so long they were all sick of him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Jason had to carry upstairs since he was the only one big enough to wrap his arms around Bruce, throwing him in his bedroom while he protested (but refused to use his claws) and locking the door.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who paced back and forth until he heard the door open and saw you walk in, having already been told what was happening, and immediately grumbled, hiding under the bed so you wouldn't have to see him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who watched you lay on the floor, staring at him, telling him it was alright and they would figure it out, until he eventually became comfortable enough to come out and sit in front of you, staring at the floor in protest.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who ears perked up the second he felt your hands run through his fur, petting him and wrapping your arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who had to eat deer for dinner and hated it, but was starving so he finished the whole bowl Alfred gave him, still humiliated, even if he was fed with a porcelain bowl.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who tried sleeping at the foot of your shared bed, curled up in a tight ball, but couldn't get away with it because you hauled him back to the top of the bed, clearly struggling to lift his weight.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was hesitant but eventually stretched out, reaching nearly four feet from the tips of his tall ears to the bottom of his paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who let you wrap your arms around his enormous size, scratching his ears while he yawned, bearing his sharp teeth that would terrify nearly anyone except for you.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who purred like a regular cat, even if he had paws bigger than most dogs did, and used them to knead on the mattress while you cuddled him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who licked your face, his tongue tougher than sandpaper and immediately stopped purring, feeling ashamed of himself until you began laughing and kissing his head and cheek again, finding it funny even if it hurt a bit.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who went back to purring the second he knew you weren't upset or mocking him for his unusual state, and kept doing so until he fell asleep with you holding him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who woke up the next morning with his head pressed against your stomach, and his arms wrapped around your waist and immediately nuzzled your warm skin, grateful to be back to his regular self, even if his kids would give him hell at breakfast.

---

Cat Dick Grayson: Who got turned into a sleek, blue eyed, Siamese cat when one of Raven's spells went wrong and panicked at first when she said she didn't know how to turn him back.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was incredibly vocal, meowing at his entire team before realizing they couldn't understand anything he said and he wandered off to find you instead because he knew he was utterly useless to them.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you immediately recognized as him when he showed up at your door, pawing it until you opened it and ran inside, rubbing his head against a picture of the two of you on the kitchen counter.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was grateful when you didn't seem freaked out about him being a cat and trusted you to take care of him for the time being.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who had no shame when it came to sitting on your lap, or brushing his head against your legs while weaving in and out of them and following you everywhere you go.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who actually found himself enjoying how agile he could be and how stretchy his vertebrae suddenly was, giving him even more flexibility than he was used to.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who pawed at the television every time an ad for a cat toy at PetSmart came up until you caved and bought a laser pointer and electric mouse so he could hunt to keep entertained since there wasn't much to do as a cat.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who chose to perch on your shoulder, even though it was inconvenient for you, because he missed being tall and liked the challenge of balancing on you.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who missed being able to tell you how beautiful you are without his voice coming out a dry croak of appreciation for you, and wanted to hold you instead of having you hold him, but couldn't, so he'd settled for curling up next to you on the couch and in bed, pressing his cold nose to your cheek.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you're petting while you lay on the couch, watching a movie when you suddenly feel his fur turn back into his soft, slightly wavy hair and look down to his head in your lap.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who sits up and stretches, making his muscles ache before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a laying position while you finish the movie.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who can't decide while nuzzling your neck that night, if he wants to chew Raven out or thank her.

---

Cat Tim Drake: Who was messing around with an ancient artifact getting cataloged in the batcave when he accidentally turned himself into a slim Abyssinian cat with a long tail.

Cat Tim Drake: Who refused to give his family, especially Damian, the satisfaction of seeing him as a cat, and ran off before anyone could find out.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran to you and scratched at your window to get in, carrying his utility belt in his teeth to show you it was him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who listened to you tease him for a full five minutes before nipping you with his teeth, not to hurt you, even though it did sting a bit, and simply held your hand between his teeth for a few seconds looking up at you in shock over his own actions as if surprised he did it.

Cat Tim Drake: Who you fed roast chicken to when he refused to eat any actual cat food because it looked gross.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran back and forth from the batcave to your apartment bringing documents to you about the artifact so you could help turn him back.

Cat Tim Drake: Who micromanaged, pacing back and forth on top of the kitchen table while meowing and pawing at papers trying to get you to see the connections he did.

Cat Tim Drake: Who got tired after several hours of work because he didn't have any energy drinks to keep him awake and he knew from listening to Damian yap about animals that cats usually slept like 16 hours a day.

Cat Tim Drake: Who reluctantly curled up in your lap and napped while you continued to work, but bit and tugged at your sweater before he did so you would take it off and cover him in it for extra warmth.

Cat Tim Drake: Who lost all track of time and slept for so many hours he didn't even know what day it was (damn cats had to have different senses of time) when he woke up, finding you hunched over the table, sleeping in a way that was sure to give you an ache in your neck.

Cat Tim Drake: Who woke you up, pawing at your cheek gently and meowing in your ear quietly and saw your eyes flutter open, immediately causing him to start purring when he felt a rush of affection for your willingness to help him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is sitting on the dining room table when you finally turn into a human again and he's suddenly staring at you with his sweet blue eyes, his legs dangling off the side of the table.

Cat Tim Drake: Who pulls you into the biggest hug, resting his head on your shoulder as he apologizes for making you help him and tells you he loves you for all you do for him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is so exhausted from being a cat and stressing so much he shed all over your couch that he falls asleep at a reasonable hour for once, clinging to you tightly, humming instead of purring as a way to show his affection.

Cat Tim Drake: Who tries to lie to his family when he gets home, telling them he had spent the weekend with you, but is immediately caught when Bruce pulls up the security footage of him hissing at one of the mice in the batcave before trying to catch it.

---

(He's like 15-16?)

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is turned into a Bengal with bright green eyes and dark spots by some wizard from another dimension during a fight and runs away shortly after his family gets back to the cave after scruffing him to bring him back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who knows his family well enough to know he wouldn't get a moment of peace with them poking him and making fun of him for his form while trying to fix him, so he goes to you instead, showing up at school in between your classes.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your locker, rubbing his head against the picture of him you keep taped to the back of it and watches your eyes widen in realization as you reach into the locker to pull him out of it, slipping the rest of your classes to take him home.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who grumbles slightly when you shove him under your coat to sneak him past your parents, and to your room, but relaxes once he gets there, being dropped on your bed and immediately turning in circles before laying down for the first bit of calm he's had all day.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who kind of enjoys watching you pace and panic more than him, because in a weird way it's nice to know you care so much.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who already knows so much about cats that becoming one is a piece of cake, and he can pretty much control his feline self as best he would his normal self....aside from occasionally purring when he doesn't want to.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps on your desk as you fret, bumping his head against your hand to get you to look at him instead of worrying and meows softly as an attempt to comfort you.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who allows himself to be pulled into your lap if that's what you need and doesn't try to escape, even though he easily could, because you are, he'll admit, pretty warm and soft and you smell quite good.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hides under your bed when your parents come up to check on you when you choose to eat dinner in your room and share your steamed veggies with him because you know he doesn't eat meat, even as a cat.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who doesn't want to go home to face his family's ridicule so sleeps in your bed, maintaining a respectable distance... until he gets sick of sleeping at the foot of your bed and having you accidentally kick him. Then he moves to lay by your head on your pillow.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your bag the next day, desperate to not stay here or go home and after some sad, pathetic meowing (that he'd lie about making if you ever brought it up) you allowed it.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is so predictable that his family knew he'd be with you and sent Dick to wait outside the school after your classes were over because they found a way to fix him.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who scratches his brother when he tries to take him and has to be carried back to the cave by you instead.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hears exactly one joke out of Timothy before his father gives him a glare that shuts him up, suggesting they had a conversation before about not doing that when he came back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who finally turns back into himself again and the first words out of his mouth are "I handled the situation better than you did, Drake." Shortly followed by a quietly mumbled "Thank you, for taking care of me." In your direction.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who watches you shrug and act like it's no big deal but can see the blush creep onto your cheeks and walks you out, giving you a proper kiss once away from his family.

[heyftinally]

I specifically want to elaborate on this part:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

As someone who has spent a LOT of time and effort on the nitty-gritty of quoting others in professional documents, I feel like I have a pretty good foundation on which to speak about this.

As a general rule, you want to directly quote the speaker as much as possible.

First and foremost, this is because you don't want to put words in their mouth or misrepresent what they said, as that's dishonest on your part as the interviewer/writer/etc, and harms your credibility. Remember the "Coolsville sucks" meme? Yeah, don't be that person. Quotes should be full and verbatim as much as possible, because anything else presents the possibility that you aren't accurately or fully representing what the speaker said.

The second reason is because when you re-word someone else's quote, you inherently inject your own biases into the new version you create. What that means is, consciously or unconsciously, you are influencing the way readers perceive what was said. This is bad because at best, you're speaking over the person who's quote you re-worded. At worst, you're manipulating your readers to think as you do, regardless of what the original quote said.

When presenting a quote from someone else, your job is to communicate as clearly as possible the speaker's original statement and intention. If giving the direct quote is not possible, careful paraphrasing is vital.

If I say "Sara James then went on to express her dissatisfaction with the pay she received", what would you assume the original quote is?

It could be "Yeah, I found out I was only getting paid ⅓ as much as my costar, even though I have 40% more screen time and I did almost all of my own stunts, so needless to say I'm not happy and I've been talking to my team."

But it could ALSO be "I was surprised when I found out what we were all getting paid. Not to sound like a total nepo baby or anything, but normally the projects I do pay more, y'know? But then I found out that the reason pay was lower for everyone - not just me - was because production was donating a whole bunch of money to the local children's hospital since we filmed in the lot next door. Which I thought was really cool of them! Like, obviously the hospital doesn't get much say in the filming, so I thought it was really cool of production to give back as, like, a thank you. Plus we got to go visit the kids, which was just amazing!"

TECHNICALLY in both of these, you could argue that displeasure about pay IS mentioned - but the specifics of the situation are entirely lost in the oversimplified paraphrasing, and THAT is why changing direct quotes can be dangerous.

So, yeah. I just wanted to elaborate on that particular point because it's one I covered *heavily* while in college. How you quote someone is important.

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[amaryllis-22]

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: John Price × Reader

Infos: Pregnancy, afab reader, mild possessive behavior near the end, mature and slightly dark themes

Based on this idea

As a member of Task Force 141, you'd dedicated your whole life to your team, to the Crown, and to the protection of international security. Going from home to work and from work to home had become the normality you'd learnt to accept.

It was nothing too tragic, truly.

When you were on duty, you didn't have time to worry about your decadent social circle, and when you were off deployment, you could always hit a pub with one of the lads. None of them would ever turn down an opportunity for a little distraction. Hell, you'd even started spending more time in the barracks than in your flat, to the point where the landlord questioned whether you'd died in action and he merely hadn't been informed about it.

Everything had been fine until, well, it no longer was.

Shrouded in the silence of your one-room apartment on a grey autumn day, you'd wondered what would be left of you after you inevitably ceased to be useful to the military. You'd probably be discharged with a respectful handshake, a few medals, and a good amount of money to spend the rest of your life doing... what exactly? Rot in loneliness?

No, you couldn't stand it, not anymore at least.

Those same circumstances you had considered acceptable and fulfilling suddenly seemed not to be enough. Perhaps you could have borne it in your early years of service, when your sole concern was coming home in one piece and making sure your comrades did the same.

But at the moment you had other needs. You were aware of it.

You'd wandered for a while in the dark searching for something that could help you feel complete — a sort of homemade spiritual journey with more failures than successes and the revelation you were seeking at the end.

You wanted a baby, desperately.

You'd never thought about motherhood before, and yet it had only taken the slightest nudge to turn it into the entire centre of your attention. It was as if a switch had been flipped in your head, triggering that innate and basic instinct to bring another creature into this world.

Shit, you had nothing ready to welcome your little angel.

The house you lived in was too small and in a part of town not ideal for easy access to schools.

Not to mention your job.

You clearly had to take a leave of absence. No matter how accustomed you were to injury, you wouldn't have tolerated the slightest chance of jeopardising your pregnancy.

You absolutely had to notify the higher-ups, or things were bound to get ugly. Money wasn't an issue with all you had saved, but it was possibly worth looking for a part-time job to support yourself in the meantime. All in all, it was better to be safe than sorry

Maybe, just maybe, you were moving things a smidge too fast. No, starting to buy baby clothes and toys was not a good idea because in your euphoric frenzy you'd forgotten a rather important detail.

You weren't in a relationship.

Now, that could have been a problem.

Your lifestyle wasn't helpful in keeping anything steady in the romance department. You could go on a mission and disappear for the next few weeks, if not months. You'd tried in the past (albeit, you must admit, with not too much effort), but balancing your various obligations had proved so stressful that you'd proudly declared yourself out of the market. Your new-found desire to start a family, though, would have forced you to return.

As resourceful as you may have been, it was going to be difficult to conceive a baby without a man to, you know, knock you up.

At that point, instead of getting on some dating app or throwing yourself into a classic blind date like a normal person, what had you done? Obviously, you'd gone to your captain, the man who had saved your life more times than you could have counted, dropping the bombshell he wouldn't have expected.

⎯⎯⎯ 「 𖤓 」⎯⎯⎯

"I want a baby," you announced the minute you entered his office, barely giving the door time to close behind you before you placed yourself in front of his desk. John's hand, which had been working on paperwork, froze in its movement, and his sterling blue eyes lifted to give you his full attention.

"Pardon?" His voice came out gruff and deep, words slipping out in a rush, as if his mind was not quite ready to digest what you had told him.

"I want a baby, Cap," you repeated unperturbed, shoulders squared, legs slightly apart, and back straight as a board. You were almost as confident in your stance as you were in your conviction.

Price's eyebrows furrowed, lips curled into a grimace that bordered on mockery. "Yeah... I heard that."

He hesitated, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk. "I was just wonderin' why you felt the need to share the ... news with me."

The man struggled to follow on which train of thought your brain had derailed.

What was this nonsense?

As far as he knew, you weren't in a relationship and didn't seem interested in one. At least, that was the reply you had given Soap when the Scot had pointed out your dry romantic situation.

Going from 0 to 100 wasn't anything foreign for you; he had learnt to deal with it, but this... was excessive even by your standards.

Had you met some bloke who had made you fall at his feet with honeyed words and pretty promises? No, you wouldn't have been fooled by it. Not his soldier. You were too mature for that shit, but John couldn't help the feeling of jealousy growing in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm telling you this because..." Your statement was enough to snap him out of the tunnel vision his stubborn self had coerced itself into; "...I need your help, to get one I mean."

The silence that spread through the office following your declaration was suffocating. You had mentally prepared for every possible reaction from him, yet seeing it actually happen was in no way comparable.

It wasn't the first time you had stood under Price's intense glare, not with how your relationship was set up. As much as he was your superior, you hadn't failed to make your opinion heard if something didn't sit well with you. You had never come close to insubordination, never really questioned his authority, but you certainly hadn't simply responded with a mere "aye, Cap'n" and carried on with your day.

It was an odd partnership, but it worked for both of you.

If John had to be honest, he viewed it as refreshing and somewhat fascinating. He was aware of how deep your loyalty ran — you'd have followed him down to hell if it had been necessary — so he could overlook your more colourful comments. Still, that didn't mean that he would spare you any of his warning stares.

He wasn't sure if you were playing a nasty prank on him. It wasn't like you, not about such personal matters anyway.

You probably weren't, if the determination and sheer earnestness flashing in your eyes could serve as an indication. That, though, led him to another, bigger problem: seriously consider what you were asking of him.

To state that, after all the years you had spent working shoulder to shoulder, Price had never thought of moving things to another level with you would have been a lie. He clearly found you attractive, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. But hell, you worked so well in his team that he didn't feel like fucking it up simply for some of his urges.

Blurring the lines between work and love life could prove to be a minefield, a dangerous territory where it was difficult to venture.

You, however? Seemed more than willing to dive in like a suicidal maniac.

"You sure are somethin'." He exhaled, with a hint of exasperation. He was way past the age to keep up with you; that much was clear.

John hadn't even entertained the idea that you might see him as more than a trusted friend (he refused to believe that your relationship was purely professional), and now you were begging him to impregnate you? A whiplash wouldn't hold a candle to what this whole affair had become.

He would have wanted to plant his hands on your shoulders and shake some sense into you, to bombard you with questions about how you came up with such a plan, to remind you, in a perhaps overly patronising way, that this was not a decision you could take lightly: it was one that would change your future in the long run, one that you appeared to be handling far too casually.

His tired and burdened body rose from the chair in all its might, strong legs leading him directly in front of you. You owed a lot of explanations to your Captain, who had no intention of letting the matter go without first securing the info he was seeking.

"Why are you proposin' this to me?"

There was no malice or accusation in that, only a curiosity that bordered nearly on morbid. John felt shameful in that moment. Of all the vastly more important issues he could have raised, that was the only one his mind had focused on.

In a twisted manner, you had chosen him.

The knowledge that you'd handpicked him of all people to 'help' you was enough to rub his ego in all the right places, but he needed to know why.

Did you realise who you were offering this to? The consequences that would have followed?

His gaze never left your face, refusing to miss any possible change in your mannerisms. He made you feel like a rare species under a microscope, as if you couldn't hide anything from him, not when he had already scoured the innermost depths of your being in search of answers.

"You're the first one I thought of," you mentioned, finding it almost difficult to get the words out. Your limbs had suddenly become tense, making your posture stiffer than it should be. "Besides, I couldn't trust anyone but you with this."

John regarded himself as a stable person, capable of maintaining a cool and detached mind even in the most absurd and stressful scenarios. Yet in that moment, you had really managed to catch him off guard.

For fuck's sake, he had enough.

Did you want his cock to bully your pussy so badly, to fill it with cum again and again until there was no doubt left about the life he had planted in your womb?

He wasn't going to stop you.

Noticing his impassive expression, you hastened to assure him that, should he accept, you would ask nothing in return: no support for the baby, no parental responsibility, and no emotional attachment.

At that he merely snorted, shaking his head as if trying to chase away an annoying bug.

If you thought he would leave both of you, you and YOUR child, you obviously had still not fully understood the kind of man he was.

John could already imagine it.

A small cottage surrounded by nature, his beautiful wife waiting for him at the door, open arms and sweet smile, the laughter of children in the distance, and a warmth to finally caress his tough skin.

He wouldn't have let you resume your military career after; it would have been too dangerous and pointless.

Not that you had to know.

You would have so much to think about that you wouldn't even notice it. Your little angels would need the steady presence of a mother, and you certainly wouldn't be the one to deprive them of that, would you?

Don't worry; he would take care of it, putting his life on the line for the safety of your little family.

Family.

He had struggled to believe he could ever have one of his own, and now you were offering it to him on a silver platter. How lucky.

"Alright." His calloused hand rose to meet your cheek, thick thumb being passed over the soft pad of your lower lip. His face lowered enough to be exactly before yours. "I'll help you, just... don't come cryin' later for bitin' off more than you could chew."

Tag list: @nova-willow-541

✎There will definitely be a part two in the future.

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar was frozen to the spot. It took him a few seconds for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing, but as soon as it did, he saw red.

Warnings: this is a heavy one guys, army!oscar and army!reader, non descriptive sexual assault!!!, I tried to describe it as vaguely as I could so no details, I feel like this is obvious but just in case the SA is not with Oscar, angst, kinda hurt/comfort, then some pretty freaky smut, I despise the very concept of the military but I'm a whore for a man in uniform so… here we are, vaguely based on that one episode of ‘Lie to me'

You and Oscar were very competitive. Everything from punctuality to training exercices were a chance to one up each other.

He was taller and stronger than you so it made physical challenges his area of expertise.

But you were more agile, more analytical, and a definite asset to the team.

You loved a man in uniform, but Oscar was just so insufferable not even the way his broad physique filled out his fatigues could save your opinion of him.

He was cocky, arrogant, and hated being wrong.

You bickered constantly, and the only reason your fights never got physical is because neither of you wanted a dishonourable discharge on your records.

You were always out on missions with your squad, and right now you were in Afghanistan.

Your sergeant was a different kind of man.

Nice, but a little bit creepy, would sometimes walk into the female locker rooms without announcing himself…

But he was always sweet to you. He was exceedingly polite, and never made any passes at you. He never made you drive the front convoy car, even though everyone was supposed to take turns doing it.

Which in a way you were grateful for, given that it was the most dangerous position to be in, even though it was a bit unfair to the others. You’d heard rumours, but he never did anything to you.

Until today.

Your last day before returning home.

The temperature in your tent was stifling that afternoon, so you'd gone off to a local spring that was surrounded by walls of rough rock to cool off and relax after a stressful few weeks.

You were in shorts and a sports bra, nothing indecent in case one of your fellow privates came along.

And the sergeant had apparently followed you there, because as soon as your outer layers were off, he sidled up next to you and put his hands on your hips from behind, making you jump.

“Hello, beautiful”

“Wha-” You tried to turn around and push him off, but he was too strong and pinned you against the rock face.

You struggled, but he quickly insured you couldn't call for help by putting a hand over your mouth.

“I think it's time to repay me for my generosity over these past few weeks, no?”

You were stuck, body pressed between him and the rocks, and you felt utterly helpless against his tall muscular frame.

…

Oscar was looking for you. He wanted to apologise to you after your brief argument earlier. He'd been a bit of a dick and you called him out, nothing out of the ordinary.

He was rehearsing what he wanted to say in his head, because despite the two of you always being on the verge of hating each other's guts, you pushed each other to become better, and he wasn't going to lie, he did have a bit of a soft spot for you.

Which is why when he turned the corner and saw you and the sergeant pressed together, the first thing he felt was intense jealousy.

But the way you seemed to be squirming in his hold, and the way he was holding you down sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body.

He didn't even think twice, he sprinted over and dragged the other man off you, throwing him on the ground easily.

The half-second glance he spared you told him everything he needed to know. You were on the verge of tears, and there were a couple of scrapes and bruises forming on your skin.

He turned and stalked towards the man on the floor.

You were so shocked at the sudden turn of events your legs gave out and you tumbled to the floor with relief.

Your eyes filled with tears and you turned away to get your clothes, but your body didn't respond.

You were forced to watch as Oscar straddled the sergeants waist and landed a well aimed blow to his nose, breaking it instantly.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing to her?!” he hissed, anger seeping from him in waves.

“None of your business, Piastri” the other man said, earning him another hit.

“Don't you ever touch her again, you hear me?”

The sergeant tried to spit at him but Oscar just landed another, much harder punch, this time knocking him out.

He stood up with a snarl, landing a hard kick to the man's ribs for good measure, and made his way over to you.

You were curled up with your knees tucked under your chin and tears still blurring your vision.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively, crouching down in front of you, a hand hovering somewhere near your arm, unsure if you were okay with being touched right now.

You didn't want to appear weak, and you didn't trust your voice so you simply gave him a swift nod.

Unfortunately the movement dislodged a few tears, which fell down your cheeks.

His heart broke.

“I'm sorry, that was a stupid question, really” he sighed at himself “Let's find your clothes and get you back to camp, then I’ll contact-”

He was looking around for your clothes and you couldn't help it, you surged forwards to wrap around him in a tight hug, almost knocking him off balance.

He took that as a sign that he could touch you, and held you in his arms, cradling you gently as you sobbed into his shirt.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the air temperature to drop as the evening rolled around, and a chill ran down your back.

You shivered and he helped you grab your clothes before heading back together, leaving the sergeant unconscious on the ground.

He stuck by your side all through dinner, keeping an eye on you as you ate your meal in relative silence while the others chatted away about their excitement of getting back home, not noticing that the mood was very different at the other end of the table.

You looked so downtrodden, Oscar didn't think twice before asking “Do you want to stay in my tent tonight?”

It was a bit of a risky question when he thought about it, but to his surprise, you nodded immediately and smiled at him sheepishly.

“If you don’t mind… I don't want to be alone in case… well…”

He smiled and put an arm around your shoulder. “I understand, don't worry”

…

His tent was the same as yours, but somehow it seemed much smaller because of the mess that was in it.

Clothes (uniforms) and bags were strewn everywhere, and for some reason he had two sleeping bags.

“I get cold easily!” he whined defensively when you asked him about it.

You smirked. “Aw does little Osc need a hot water bottle to keep him warm at night?” you cooed mockingly.

He rolled his eyes at you and slipped into his sleeping bag to take his pants off without you watching him.

You raised an eyebrow at him questionningly. “Since when are you shy about getting undressed?”

He chuckled “I wouldn't want you to get a glimpse of my banging bod and fall in love with me” he joked.

You scoffed. You'd seen him in his swimwear before and he knew that.

You took your over clothes off in front of him nonchalantly, not bothering to hide yourself given that he had also seen you in swimwear, and he sucked in a breath and quickly looked away.

For a dick, he was being quite a gentleman, and something stirred inside you at that fact. You didn’t know he was capable of being a gentleman.

You slid into your own sleeping bag and sighed in relief, your body fully relaxing for the first time since this afternoon.

You were both lying there, in slightly awkward silence.

You thought back to how quickly Oscar had reacted, and shuddered at the thought of “What if? What if Oscar hadn't been out there at that moment?”

The distress must have shown on your face because Oscar asked “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing” you replied a bit too quickly, avoiding his gaze that was burning into the side of your face.

“You're a bad liar” he muttered softly, not a hint of joking in his tone.

“You know you're probably going to get a court-martialed when we get back?” your voice trembled as you realised that the thought of not having Oscar around made you sad.

“I doubt that, I was protecting a fellow officer. If anything he's the one who should be getting court-martialed.”

You sighed. In a perfect world.

“That's generally not how these things go, you know? They'll probably find a way to blame me and then I’ll be the one in trouble…”

Oscar rolled over onto his side and stared at you with a serious expression.

“Look at me” he ordered. You turned your head to see a stormy look in his eyes “I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen. And if it does I will quit the army altogether.”

You blinked at him.

“You don't have to do that”

“Of course I do.” He glanced down briefly at your lips. “If I don't who will?”

You felt tears prickle at your eyes again and you gulped down the emotions threatening to spill out.

“Thank you, Oscar” you breathed.

He smiled “No problem”

“No. I mean thank you for earlier… not every man I know would have done what you did”

His eyes softened as he looked at you.

He didn't need to say anything, you both knew it to be true.

You fell into a comfortable silence and you almost drifted off, if it weren’t for the slight movement next to you.

“You okay?” you asked, seeing that Oscar was searching around for his disguarded shirt.

“Yeah, I’m a bit cold so I’m going to put my clothes back on”

You watched him put his shirt on, and you felt sorry for stealing his sleeping bag.

“Well… you know the most effective way to maintain body heat?”

That made him freeze. Of course he knew, it was basic training. The best way to warm up was to share body heat with someone.

“You…”  he gulped “You wanna do that?” his eyes met yours. “For me?”

You smiled at him “Sure. It’s the least I can do”

He frowned at that. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, that’s not why I-”

You shushed him by pressing a finger to his lips. “I know, but I feel bad that you’re cold because of me so I want to help you get warm, simple as that”

Without another word you unzipped your sleeping bag, then his, and zipped them together to essentially form a big sleeping bag for two.

Oscar was a bit red in the face at your sudden proximity to him but he looked mildly impressed. “Ingenious”

You rolled your eyes and lay down on your side with your back to him. “Whatever, now shut up and get over here”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear and shuffled over to you, his arm hovering awkwardly.

“Can I, uhh- you know, touch you?”

Thank god he couldn’t see your face or he would have seen how you blushed furiously at his words.

You had to scold yourself for your unholy thoughts.

“Of course”

His arm was draped over your middle, and you could feel the heat of his chest almost touching your back, but for some reason he seemed reluctant to press his body to yours, which was the whole point of this.

“Oscar, you do know the concept of spooning, yes?” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood. He mumbled out a ‘yes’.

“Then you know your body needs to be touching mine, yeah? Not just your arm.”

“I uh- I don’t think that’s a good idea right now” he whispered, and his breath on the back of your neck made you shiver.

“Why not? I told you it’s fine, we’re just sharing body heat”

He sighed. “I can’t. I have-  uhh, a problem.”

“What problem?”

“You know... A problem that would make it very uncomfortable for both of us to spoon right now”

Your breath hitched. “You mean…”

The silence stretched on and he didn’t say anything.

“You mean you’re… you've got- uhh…”

“Yeah” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I usually … you know, before I go to bed but you’re here, so… yeah”

Your face was burning now. You now had the image of Oscar getting rid of his problem swimming around your head.

“You can deal with it… if you want. I don’t mind. This is your tent.”

His arm twitched where it was lying against you. “No I’m not doing that while you’re here!”

“Why not?” you were feeling emboldened by the obvious stutter in his breathing “It’s a natural bodily response. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Oscar had to thoroughly recompose himself, before saying something he’d regret.

“No it’s fine, it’ll go away in a minute.”

“Okay, suit yourself” you sighed, closing your eyes and your brain unhelpfully supplied the image of you helping him with his problem.

Neither of you said a word after that, you were both too busy trying to think of something else, anything else, rather than the ache between your respective legs.

It had been a while since you'd been in this close a proximity to a man, especially one as fucking fit as him.

And he was fucking hard. And probably big as well, if the size of his ego was anything to go by.

You felt him shiver behind you.

“Oscar” you turned around so that you were facing him. “It’s not going to go away is it? So either accept it, or get rid of it, but I don’t want you to be cold!”

His eyes were wide as he met your challenging gaze. You didn't know where this brazenness was coming from, maybe it was pure adrenaline, but you turned over again and huffed. “Now get on with it”

A beat passed without a sound, before he started shuffling around.

“You sure you're okay with this?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah go ahead, pretend I'm not here”

Oscar sighed and reached a hand down over his underwear, giving himself the lightest squeeze. Damn, he was really hard.

“Shit, okay” he said, talking to himself more than anything.

He slid his boxers down enough to free his cock and wrap a hand around his girth.

He bit back a moan.

He was determined to do this quietly, for your sake.

You'd told him to ‘pretend you weren't there’ but that wasn't possible for Oscar in that moment. Firstly because the heat radiating from your body was impossible to ignore, secondly because when he closed his eyes all he could see was you, and all the past dirty fantasies Oscar had had about you when he got himself off.

He'd thought of what it would be like to see you on your knees for him, begging for his cock, or how you'd look bouncing on top of him while he sucked your tits.

He was just a man after all.

And he was so hard it hurt, and he was trying his best to not let any noises slip.

But you could hear the slight movement of his hand against the sleeping bag, and the way his ragged breathing was getting heavier, and then his almost silent whimpers.

And now you were getting turned on.

It's not like he was being loud. By any account it should have been easy to ignore him, but all of your senses seemed to have tuned in to him, and only him.

You could almost see him in yoir mind, lips bitten raw and eyes squeezed shut as he worked his cock frantically, trying to come as fast as possible while you were inches away from him.

The heat between your own legs was becoming unbearable, you needed some kind of relief, so you didn't think twice before sliding a hand into your own underwear.

The first touch against your clit sent an instant wave of relief over your body, so you carried on, sliding a finger through your folds, which were so wet it slipped right in with no resistance.

You flexed your wrist, careful to not make any movements that might alert Oscar to what you were doing.

It was filthy, rubbing one off to your friends sounds, but you couldn't help yourself. You were getting wetter by the minute and the pressure of your palm against your clit just felt so good.

 You were biting your lip in an effort to stop the noises coming out of your mouth, and you were doing a better job of it than Oscar, because he was letting out pathetic little whimpers.

“Fuck” he let out a quiet breath, and you almost would have missed it had you not been listening intently.

You clenched involuntarily around your fingers at the sound, and let out a high pitched noise of your own.

He froze, worried that he'd somehow gone too far.

“Shit- sorry… I'll stay quiet I promise”

You let out a breath, not stopping the movement of your hand.

“Oscar”

“Yeah?” he sounded breathless as his head whipped up to look at you.

“Don't stop, fuck-” you were so fucking needy you could feel yourself slowly creeping towards an orgasm.

Oscar's brain stalled as he realised exactly what you were doing, and his cock throbbed at the thought of you getting off to his noises.

“Are you…?” he asked, hand picking up the rhythm, aided by the steady drip of precome leaking from his tip. “Are you touching yourself as well?”

“Yeah… I'm sorry” you whined “You just sound so hot, Osc, couldn't help myself…”

His brain melted at the nickname, and at how fucked-out you sounded already.

“You have no idea how fucking hard I am right now” he groaned in frustration.

“fuck- I need you” you were trembling, you just needed a little extra push to get over the edge.

“Jesus” he gasped “What do you need?”

“Need you inside me, please” you begged so prettily, how could he refuse such a request.

His body finally made contact with yours, and you could feel him against the curve of your ass.

He reached around your body and replaced your hand with his.

“Fucking hell, you're soaked” he grunted as you quickly slid your underwear off and hooked your leg over his hips to pull him closer to you.

You took his cock in your hand and for the first time felt exactly how big he was.

“Fucking hell Oscar” you gasped.

He chuckled and lined himself up with your dripping cunt, rubbing himself through your folds.

“Fuck me Osc, please” he swiftly pushed inside, and the way he stretched you out so perfectly made your brain turn to static as he wasted no time, thrusting in and out of you shallowly.

You turned your head to the side and grabbed his face to join your lips in a messy kiss, panting as he buried himself in you to the base.

You shuddered as his cock kissed your cervix over and over, all the while rubbing your clit in fast tight circles in an effort to make you come before him, both of you being already so close to the edge you could taste it.

Neither of you lasted very long. As soon as you started clenching around him he was a goner, and he came inside you with a punched-out groan of your name while you whined into his mouth.

You were too exhausted to move, so he kept his softening cock inside you, and wrapped his arms around you to hold you tighter.

“Well, I'm not cold anymore, that's for sure…”

You giggled and slapped his arm playfully.

He responded by leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours in a passionate display of emotion that you were too tired to unpack right now, so you just enjoyed the moment, smiling into kiss.

You fell asleep like that, in each other's arms.

When you got back, you discovered that several complaints had been made about your Sergeant, and there was some kind of investigation involving lie detector tests.

He did end up getting arrested, and you were promoted for your troubles, and because you deserved it, of course.

Apparently he was the one that had been preventing you from getting that promotion, on the grounds that you were better off under his supervision, as he put it in his reports.

So you sued, and won, and Oscar was so proud of you he bought you an engagement ring, which he gave to you in Paris, on the Seine, while a accordionist played Careless Whisper behind you.

It was raining fucking buckets, and the accordion sounded dreadful, but to you it was absolutely perfect.

Oscar found it incredibly hot that you were now his superior, and often called you Sir to rile you up.

So naturally, you regularly had sex in your uniforms, because you were both absolute freaks about it.

[cherie-doll]

how do you think the cod men would react to you hiding an injury (from a mission) from them?

(annoyed i had a draft of this ready but my laptop decided to act up and i lost it, so i had to rewrite it again)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hiding An Injury From Them

ઇଓ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

it wasn't until after the mission that he noticed you clutching your side, your hand curved protectively over the wound that was surely getting worse by the minute or so he feared

he insisted on taking you to the medic right away, and as you were being examined he stayed right outside the room, he really wished you had told him, he was captain so he had to know if one of his had been injured

you were left to rest but the next day he came back, when you awoke he was there by your bedside, "why didn't you tell me?"

he just wants you to know that you need to trust him, he's more worried than anything on why you didn't come to him, did you not trust him?

Ghost

while you were seeking shelter he noticed the way you limped, you hadn't said anything but anyone who looked at you could see how terribly you tried to hide your pain

he sighs and trudges towards you, as if annoyed he has to do this, but he takes you aside and has you show him the injury, it wasn't as bad as he thought it was which is why he's a little relieved

as he bandages you up he's mostly silent, he wanted to scold you, to say something to get this feeling off his chest but when you gasp in pain when his fingers apply too much pressure he can't bring himself to be annoyed at you

you're left feeling the phantom touch of his fingers and how he gentled when he saw you wince in pain

Soap

you two were almost always assigned together or ended up finding one another and watching each other's back, so you were always in his subconscious; he just couldn't let anything happen to you

yet, in the blink of an eye it had happened, you brushed it off as being just fine, that it was only the debris and nothing more, nothing vital had been hit

but when you went back to base and he didn't see you around for a couple of days and found out you had been sent to recovery he rushed to find you, "you told me you were fine!", and he's upset you weren't honest when he asked

you two were a team...always working together so he definitely gets cross about the matter for a little while afterwards but not for long because he's still checking up and asking how you're holding up

Gaz

when you were a rookie you went to him for almost everything, he was the one you felt safest with and he had treated you with the most respect even if you were still learning and made mistakes

so he couldn't help but feel forgotten or sidelined when you didn't tell him about your injury, in fact, you weren't planning on telling anyone because you didn't want to make a 'big deal' out of it, you had been doing so well and you didn't want anyone to know you had messed up

yet, he found you taking painkillers and stuffing rags of blood down to the bottom of the trashcan, "how long have you been covering this?!" as he rushed to take care of it for you

he was stunned to find out you had been trying to take care of it yourself, still he remained patient as he somewhat understand why you did it

Roach

he went into panic thinking something worse would happen if you didn't tell someone right away, but you tried to tell him it wasn't that bad as a knife was sticking out of your leg

neither of you knew what to do other than informing someone, as help was on the way he shushed you and was 'calming' you down when you weren't even showing distress

he loves being helpful when he can so he stuck around to see if there was anything you needed whether that be emotional support or medicine; he was ready to help

Alejandro

he'd mutter a few curses before ordering some soldiers around to get an emergency kit, you try to move into a more comfortable position but he scolds you to hold it, you're making it worse

"this is serious you idiot, stuff like this can't be held off until later" and he might go off into a long rant but really he's trying to distract his mind as he cleans your wound and wraps it

he implements a new rule; everyone must report what they're doing or what has happened to them at all times during a mission, doesn't matter if they're taking a dump or if they got a papercut they gotta report that too

really he's just worried you'll get hurt and he won't be there in time to aid you

Rudy

he's all over you, anxious and troubled that one, you were injured and second, you were intentionally hiding it from him! he's more disappointed than anything

"i'm so sorry, you'll be fine.. i promise" he comforts as you're being patched up and treated, it probably hurt him more than you but you swear he's being a little over the top

back at base, there is not a day that goes by without him coming by to see you and bringing something for you, he doesn't even get mad at you for trying to hide the injury from him, he most likely forgot

Phillip Graves

"no, no- fuck, why?!" he focused in on solely you when a soldier told him about the injury you were trying to hide, but he cares too much, and you've seen how he is with his Shadows, of course he wouldn't let something like this slip by him

doesn't matter if you can walk yourself but you're not doing anything without assistance anymore until you're completely healed, it's sort of heartwarming in a way

he makes it very clear that this doesn't happen again, and you think he's talking about the injury but no he's referring to you hiding that you're hurt, he doesn't mind offering help he just doesn't want you suffering in silence

Makarov

he can't help but feel guilty, he should've known the risk for sending you out there and now the result is you needing emergency care, thankfully you weren't in too much pain

still, to him this is very serious, "this is serious! tell me what happened, who did it?", he's ready to go out there and find the bastard who had the audacity to do this, but you tell him it was kind of your own fault because everything had gone well it was actually due to your clumsiness that you had stumbled and hurt yourself on the way back

he doesn't know if that's another lie but since you seem better now he'll take it

Keegan

you've seen how much he yells during missions, so you know you're in for a reprimand the moment he figures out you're hurt, it's just a matter of time until he notices

strangely, when he does notice the blood through your clothes his eyes only widen as he points out the stained cloth and then gets to work silently as he uncovers the wound

you nervously try to tell him it's not that bad and he shouldn't be fussing over it but he just rolls his eyes, "not that bad you say? are you even looking at it?"

yeah it was pretty bad

König

he gets nervous the moment you show the slightest sign of discomfort so it's no strange that you'd hide an injury he's surely freak out over, you just don't want to cause him to lose focus

little do you know, the other soldiers are his eyes and ears as they report to him your injuries, he comes and says it's best you go back to base a little earlier, you protest thinking it's not fair that the others have sustained worse injuries yet they still have to keep going forward with the mission

but he just wants to prevent you from getting hurt worse and being so far away from a medic who could treat you end up with terrible health complications

Horangi

you and him tended to play around during missions, as if not taking them seriously, until it resulted in you getting hurt, he went serious after that even though to tried brushing it off

he could see you tense up a bit, your body sensitive to the throbbing pain that was begging to be taken care of, you needed rest and you weren't going to give it what it needed, he really wished he could be more caring and nurturing in this moment

he can only tell you to breathe slowly, to focus on the stars above you right now and hope you got to a medic soon, he wants you to realize you're not fine and that this could have been prevented, if only he had been more on guard

Nikto

he's seen people get their arm blown off, maybe even lose a leg and he barely bats an eye at it, so why is he constantly looking over at you who seems to be suppressing pain?

to him if blood isn't noticeable then it's no reason for alarm, and even then a little blood never hurt anyone, but your throbbing pain only gets stronger and he can see it in your eyes, the desperation and how you wish you had painkillers right now

while everyone else is asleep he orders you to tell him what's hurting and he tries his best to take care of it, he's built a high pain tolerance over the years but will feel disquieted when you appear worn out

[amiaclone]

You asked I’ll write! Gender neutral reader if you don’t mind

Tw: cursing I guess? Squid game in general should be considered a trigger over all the murdering lmaoo

*In ho sighed for the what? Fifteenth time? He’s been counting it’s what he’s trying to focus on the other thing is well……*

*When he decided to participate in these games again it was to prove Gi hun a point and mess with him a bit so he joined his “team” which well….. they happened to be in*

You were apart of it a strong person filled with determination in debt to a lot of money…..honestly in ho was shocked with how much debt you were in I mean you seemed like someone who’d make it far in live would rule against the poor like he used to be…

But you weren’t you were *trash*

You were lower lower class you were nothing…..

Yet why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

He had a wife who he fell out of love with before he even met you…..swore he’d never fall in love again after distancing himself with his family and starting the games…..

But you just had to be lucky star didn’t you?

You were “kind” and not in a pushover kind of way just….kind like kind that would not take shit from people but would help others in need….and didn’t hide your opinions from others that deserved it….

It was disgusting but…..In a good way? He wanted you not in a possessive way but in a way type of wanting to care for you and you care for him-

*He shook those thoughts off ugh. Why now? He’s usually so calm and collected…..at first he wouldn’t lie he was hoping you’d die in one of the earlier games but now….he isn’t so sure. Gi hun already has plans to take the guns and fight back he had a plan problem was…..you were apart of the main plan

He probably had to kill you it’s probably a good thing but…now he isn’t so sure he’s gotten along with you great and he has a tiny bit of hope that you even like him back so for you to find out he runs these games….he can’t risk it

You’ll find out anyway but he doesn’t wanna face you to your face he atleast wants to hide behind a mask atleast imagining what you’d say…..

Currently he’s trying to convince himself that these feelings aren’t real……maybe it’s just attraction? Of course you’re really good looking maybe it’s that!

“Uh In ho?”

*He turns around that voice dreaded him more then anything the voice he was ready to hear-*

“Are you okay In ho?”

It was Gi hun

*He unfortunately realised that after breaking out of his rare trance he blinked for a few seconds then nodded*

“What is it?”

*Gi hun shrugged* “Nothing you seemed out of it….” *In ho stared at the ground trying to seem calm but spoke in a bitter tone* “I’m fine…” *He let his eyes wander to you who was talking to he thinks Junhee the pregnant lady? Gi hun noticed and raised an eyebrow* “Maybe Y/n will cheer you up…..Hey y/n!”

*You raised an eyebrow nodding at Junhee before walking away up to the two men.*

“You guys need something?” *In ho sighed he’s been trying to avoid hearing your voice….and you in general.* “In ho seems nervous I thought you’d be better at calming him down…*

*As Gi hun left you leaned your back on the bars of the bed he was sitting on….he couldn’t even look at you.*

“So. What is it?” *You asked he didn’t look at you but he could tell you seemed concerned*

“……” “In ho?” “…….If somebody did something almost unforgivable in any way…..what would you do?” “……What?” *You were confused rightfully you knew he was like this but for the way he got was so….* “Just answer the question…..please.” “Well if we were close I’d….wanna know why. Depending on what they did it’s…..hard to say hey are you saying this cause you’re worried or something i understand i am too but…..don’t focus on the negative so much you know?” *As usual kind…..how could such a good human like you be in these games yet he knew…..He is the front man after all he decided to atleast “ask you” and bond maybe a bit before he has to let you go….*

“Yeah you’re right as logical as ever so why are……you in debt if you don’t mind answering?”

*He felt you rise up you stared squinting your eyes then smiling* “Damn didn’t expect anyone to ask me that….don’t think it’s important.”

*Oh he knows what it is why wouldn’t he a petty part of him felt betrayed some what you weren’t gonna tell him after how close you’ve gotten but he decided to keep his cool.*

“You don’t have to tell you i just asked since we might be leaving this place or if neither of us..make it.” *You groaned* “The pessimism again In ho? Jeez you could…..I’ll tell you though cause you do have a point.”

“Well i used to be pretty rich and well-“ *As you went into your story he already knew it but continued to listen you were rich worked in a high payed business workplace but like most work places favouritism is common. Which unfortunately lead to your downfall.* “Anyways one day I found out i was being underpayed a lot of money so I complained this and that and i got a warning complained again then got fired…..It was hard to find a job i didn’t pay the bills for a lot of things debt grew bigger and bigger then a man asked me to play a game one day and well…..here i am.” *Ah yes In ho nodded at your story he knew it all he was the person who called for you to be in the game….you were a wonderful person honestly what was he thinking you were too good for a game like this is something he of all people would never think he would say.* “Im sorry you don’t deserve to be here after all it’s not your fault you’re in debt…” *You shook your head* “Eh I didn’t have a good of a college degree anyway maybe if I studied more in college I wouldn’t be here but eh atleast i got to meet you?” *In ho sighed and he didn’t want to or realise it but he couldn’t help but let a small smile rise genuinely.* “I suppose it’s…..mutual.”

*You sighed smiling* “I can’t wait for tomorrow we’ll finally *maybe* get out of here right?” *He felt his heart stop for a second oh yeah…..that*

*He awkwardly cleared his throat* “Oh yeah I suppose this game will….end and we’ll probably never see each other again” *You snorted* “We can still talk, we can meet up together and talk and stuff it’s not like we need to forget each other…”

*”That’s right” In ho thought he needed to forget you maybe these feelings would go away….but the the thoughts came he didn’t want to but…..”I killed my brother damn it! I can do this I’ve talked to them for only a few days this is…”*

“In ho??” *He stared up at you instinctively like an animal almost he stopped himself and regained his composure.* “Jeez you seem tense maybe get some rest…” “No im…..just thinking….about all the bad decisions…..humans can make.” *You hmmd* “I suppose so humans can be evil if given the chance with such power.” *In ho nodded* “Have you ever thought of doing something regrettable?” *In ho wasn’t sure why he was asking these…..questions but maybe it was to see the inhuman side of them to make him disgusted in you? Maybe that’ll work.* “Well I’ll admit yeah…..I got bullied and when I found out there father had cancer i wanted to well bring it up tear them down….i think i was about 14.” *You didn’t seem shameful you seemed to regret it but not shamed it only made In ho admire you more as he hated it.* “So why didn’t you do anything?” *You laughed a bit* “I would of if it wasn’t for me asking my mom and telling her like i was about to do the best thing she got mad scolded me and told me a different way a better way to handle bullying……and I’ve used that advice since.”

*He quirked an eyebrow what would it be that he hasn’t heard ignore them stand up for yourself be the the bigger person?*

“Be better than them…..because bullies are the weakest of the weakest in society strategy they don’t want you knowing is you finding out you’re better then them.” *He knows that advice he’s never thought much of it but hearing it from you automatically makes him wanna know more…* “Well then your mom raised such a lovely person….you should be proud.” *You scoffed laughing a bit* “I made a lot of mistakes that i can’t even say thought of some weird stuff im glad i didn’t say or do anyways……yeah. We’re human everyone has made one bad mistake you’ll dwell on for the rest of your life my advice is well…..did you regret it?”

*In ho sighed smiling* “Thanks for the advice I’ll rest for a bit” *You got up smiling and leaving that’s it.* “Y/n you’ll always be in my memory….” *In ho didn’t know what to do with them maybe ask them to join him? No! That would be so idiotic they’d never agree….try to make them understand? Maybe let them go? Why doesn’t he want that…..he then smiled.* “I can’t wait for tomorrow y/n you’re so unpredictable maybe you could stay with me…..”

Anddddd a cliffhanger sorry if this is ooc i was halfasleep writing this 😭

[hauntedhokage]

𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

Sylus x F!MC

word count: 1.6k

summary: After a UNICORNS holiday party, you meet up with Sylus in the most festive attire you have in your closet.

note: for @silverrings-n-prettythings, merry christmas bitch ily

Holiday parties with mandatory attendance rules were stupid.

You understood and somewhat respected the desire to reward the team for their efforts this year and give them an opportunity to relax, but requiring attendance at the event made the party less of a party and more of a team meeting. Your pre-existing plans be damned, “team bonding” was more important than the dinner reservations your partner had made. Despite how exclusive the restaurant was, how difficult it was to get those reservations - it was the party over anything and you did fear retaliatory missions should you choose to skip.

Tara had tried over the last week to get you to bring the boyfriend she’d yet to meet, seeing this as the golden opportunity to finally meet the mysterious Skye - “If that was his real name”. Every suggestion that you use your right to a plus one is shot down, but you don’t correct her on his name or the way the excitedly slipped off the morning of the party when you’d tiredly mumbled something sarcastic regarding his appearance that evening.

Her disappointment when you show up alone is almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost. But you wear your sweater, a bright red garment decorated with white snowflakes and black feathers and at the front read Santa Caws with a Grumpy Crow wearing a santa hat. Everyone could be well aware that you didn’t want to be there and would only be there long enough to be noticed before you left, but they couldn’t say that you were trying to be a buzzkill. You drank, chatted, danced, and had a merry time with your coworkers until your phone vibrated in your back pocket.

Sylus

6:04pm

Fifteen minutes, sweetie.

Sylus

6:04pm

Don’t keep me waiting.

Your exit is well timed, making sure to grab the box you were eyeing from the white elephant table on your way out in adherence to the rules. It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, but it was necessary for you to make sure you had the last laugh against Sylus tonight.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Tara asks, speech slurred as an accusatory finger is pointed in your direction. “It’s only-“

“I still have reservations to make, Tara. I’ll see you on Monday, get home safe!”

She’s too tipsy to be able to catch you before the elevator door closes, and you lean against the wall with a sigh of relief at finally being free from that party. You were having fun, but even forty-five minutes was too long when you knew Sylus was waiting for you.

The elevator doesn’t move fast enough, the security locks take too long to register and record your credentials (and take even longer to actually unlock the doors) but it’s all worth it when you’re finally stepping out of the Hunter Association building and into the crisp winter air outside.

“That sweater is more of a crime than anything that’s ever occurred in the N109 zone.”

The pot was certainly calling the kettle black here, as Sylus was wearing a green cardigan that was obnoxious with every move he made; covered in little bells, garland, and lights that decorated the little tree shapes knitted into the fabric. Luke and Kieran certainly delivered when you’d asked for them to produce the worst thing they could find for him to wear for your date this evening. But still, even in something so heinous, Sylus’ figure was imposing as he leaned against the car that would be your chariot for the evening.

“Mine doesn’t alert everything in a five mile radius of my position when I breathe,” you retort, poking his chest and being in delight when the bells sounded in response. “But nice try.”

He only chuckles, opening the door of the vehicle for you to slide into the passenger’s seat. You set the box down at your feet as Sylus makes his way around to the driver’s seat.

You tell him about your day as he drives, answering the questions he had about the party you were at and your coworker’s - specifically Tara - suspicions regarding your dating life.

“You know, considering you run around with various pictures of me on hand and nobody has said anything, I’m sure you could’ve brought me to your work party.”

“While you’re right, I do like keeping you to myself.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m very possessive, Sylus.”

“I’m very aware, sweetie.” He winks, the action bringing a fresh heat to your cheeks as he continues. “Perhaps I want to see what happens when a kitten’s territory is threatened.”

“I’d have to be insecure to feel threatened,” you counter, smirking in your victory when he hums his approval. “Our uninterrupted time together is often limited, so if I don’t have to share your attention I’m not going to.”

“A sentiment we share, my bell.”

Your dinner is quiet, some patrons of the restaurant also dressed to match the season while others were dressed more formal to match the usual atmosphere of this restaurant. The restaurant overlooks the amusement park, treating you to a holiday light show as you eat your dinner at one of the coveted balcony tables. Despite the chill, you’re kept warm by the various fire pits going strong among the tables and you’re further warmed by Sylus’ attentive gaze as you discuss plans for the holiday and upcoming new year.

“I know you said not to worry about moving the reservation, but I do want to apologize for the inconvenience it must’ve been for you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it actually worked out for the better because it meant I could secure this table.”

“That’s good to hear then. You should probably make next year’s reservations in advance.”

What were you saying? Making plans for a year in advance when tomorrow was barely guaranteed in your line of work? When you didn’t even know where your separate occupations would lead you? It was silly to make suggestions like that and you’re a bit embarrassed that you would try to.

“A good idea, sweetie.”

The praise has you grinning despite your embarrassment, clearly worried for no reason when he hasn’t even blinked at the suggestion. Maybe he was just as hopeful as you were for continued tomorrows that would carry you to the next holiday and every one after that?

“Let’s finish our ice cream, wouldn’t want the light maze line to get too terribly long.”

The line for the maze moves quickly, and soon you’re holding onto Sylus’ hand tightly as you move through the maze. Even with the balcony overlooking a section of the maze, the lights decorating the walls and other lost adventurers made it difficult to truly find your bearings in the structure. But you’re with Sylus and this time With him feels sacred, so you’re truly enjoying every minute with him that you have. You can’t help but think that you’d like to do this every year with him, exploring the light maze and watching the light shows while wearing ugly sweaters in the fanciest restaurant in Linkon City. The thought makes you slow down, something that Sylus definitely notices if the way he pulls you to the side is any indicator. It’s a good place to stop, not in the way of anyone else exploring the light maze and you’re grateful for the moment to be away from others as you stand at the dead end.

“You’re thinking hard, sweetie.” His observation with coupled with a hand on your cheek, and you smile up at him in an effort to assure him that you were alright. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that I’d like to spend every holiday season watching the lights here with you,” you murmur, your arms winding around his neck tightly as he leans in to lift you into his arms so he could comfortably rest his forehead against yours. His hands are warm through your jeans as they support your weight, and you feel your cheeks get even warmer at your intimate positioning in such a public space.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get to see the lights decorating your eyes, silver bell.”

You want to argue that it’s him the lights compliment more, pale skin illuminated by the soft hues surrounding you in the light maze. Ruby red irises sparkle with the reflection of twinkling lights, the sight mesmerizing and further complimented by his soft smile as he looks at you.

“The things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of an amusement park.”

“Tell the twins to set up some lights in your bedroom, you can act on it all there.” You suggest, grin stretching across your face when he lets out a hum indicating that he was satisfied with your suggestion. “Just without the jingling sweater.”

For emphasis, you flick one of the bells sitting at the collar of his cardigan, warning a chuckle from your silver haired lover before he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s saccharine, sweeter than the ice cream you’d shared on the balcony and carrying every sentiment let unsaid between you. The lights around you only make the moment more magical, and you wish there was a camera that could capture this moment but at the same time are grateful that this would live in your memories alone.

“It seems I’ve defeated the purpose of the mistletoe you’ve had on you since you left your party.” He teases, voice a murmur against your lips as you grin.

“That’s for later tonight,” you inform, pressing your lips to his in a chaste peck. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

After all, how was he supposed to expect that it was going to go around your waist?

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | three.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 7.4k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora's a smart lil gal who luvs her uncles v much, she does open up a lil bit about her mom, mentions of death, yunho goes out for dinner, making out, one-sided [rushed] feelings tho oof - one of those things where you think it'd play out fine then it doesn't 🤐, a lil glimpse into yunho and his thoughts/how he feels about things, some seora x uncle hwa content, a bit of oc x parents too!

"Hey." Yunho slips on his seatbelt as the call pulls up through the car's bluetooth, on his way out of the staff garage. "Were you able to leave a bit early to get to Seora?"

"Yes, I already told you I'd find a way. I'm pulling up to the lot right now." Yunho lets out a breath of relief, heading over to Ara's loft since she had the day off today. Tonight was the night they'd go out for dinner, something Yunho thought would be fun and harmless. He went into this thinking he'd put himself out there and give it a chance, even though deep down, he's not entirely sure where he lies about this— about her. 

Maybe tonight would help him decide, but he wasn't gonna force it and just let things go with the flow. 

"Looks like I made it just in time. Practice just got out."

"Good." 

"So, what exactly did you tell Seora?"

"That I was heading out to a team dinner."

"Atta boy."

"Shut up."

"Uncle Hwa!" Yunho hears Seora's voice in the background, causing him to smile to himself. "Sup!"

"What's up, little one?" Seonghwa playfully ruffles her hair before pulling her into a hug. "Ready to go? Anything you want before we head home?"

"Hm, that's a good question." She points to the phone. "Wait, are you on the phone with my dad?"

"Sure am." He faces the phone towards her before she grabs it.

"Dad."

"Hey babygirl. I'll be home later, okay? Have fun with Uncle Hwa. Run his wallet dry, he won't mind." She laughs.

"Okay, I will. But, what time will you be home?"

"I don't know, not too late. It could run a little long, though."

"Hm." She hums. "Are you really going to a team dinner?" Seonghwa purses his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

"Yes." Yunho says, feeling a bit bad to lie to his own daughter. "I'll get home as soon as I can."

"Okay." 

"I love you, ace. Make your uncle useful."

"Okay, okay." She chuckles. "I love you, too." She passes the phone back to Seonghwa before sliding her things into the backseat and settling into the passenger's side.

"Have fun at your team dinner." Seonghwa teases, making Yunho rolls his eyes.

"Not one word, Park Seonghwa."

"Uh huh." He hangs up the phone and slips into the driver's seat, settling in just before turning on the car and looking over at Seora. "So, did you figure out what you want, ace?" She tugs on her hoodie strings as she scrolls through her phone. 

"I kinda want a good ol' burger."

"Burgers and fries sound good right now, actually. Any place in particular?"

"Burger Almighty?" Seonghwa smiles. 

"Nice choice. Do you wanna eat there, or take it back home?"

"Take it back home, please. I need to get out of my practice clothes." Seonghwa nods, pulling up the website in order to place an order for pickup. "Ou, actually, wait. Uncle Hwa?"

"Yup?"

"Can we also stop by for ice cream?"

"Of course." He hands her the phone. "Here, pick whatever you want." She smiles and slouches in the front seat, going through the menu options. She goes back and forth for awhile, but Seonghwa patiently waits. He hears his phone ding and doesn't think much about it until Seora pops in once more, finally selecting her options and adding it to the cart. "Someone named Yoori texted you."

"Oh." Seonghwa looks at her. "I'll get to it later."

"She's asking if you wanna come over tonight." Seora smirks before letting out a small laugh. "Dad mentioned you were kinda seeing someone. Is that her?"

"Dad just airing out my business, huh?" Seonghwa laughs before grabbing his phone. "Is that all?"

"Mhm. Besides the ice cream. Thank you, Uncle Hwa." 

"Course." Hwa quickly texts back that he might stop by before he gets home tonight, but he'll let her know. 

"So, are you seeing her? Kinda seeing her, whatever that means? What does it mean to be kinda seeing someone?" Her questions are coming back to back and Seonghwa can't help but chuckle dryly as he drives out of the lot and towards their first destination.

"We're.. figuring things out."

"What's there to figure out, Uncle Hwa? You either like each other or you don't, right?"

"Things can get complicated, ace. Especially when you get older and your wants and needs in a partner become more solidified. Specific."

"Like..?"

"We're both just not sure if we're ready to take that next step. Or, I guess, it's mainly me."

"Then, do you really like her if you question it?"

"I do. I just haven't been in a relationship in awhile, and I was kinda enjoying my freedom." Seora nods, still unsure about this whole idea of relationship complexities and what not. "You get older and you realize you don't wanna waste anyone's time and effort and vice versa."

"I see." Seora looks at him. "If she likes you a lot too, I don't see what the harm is."

"I don't wanna hurt anyone on accident."

"You wouldn't hurt anyone, Uncle Hwa." He smiles.

"Thanks, ace. But your uncle makes mistakes cause I'm human. As with anyone."

"Dad hasn't really dated anyone, either." Seonghwa shrugs, knowing Yunho has tried and has dabbled in it, but it always never went far. Not far enough that Yunho felt comfortable enough introducing them to Seora and opening that door.

"Mmyeah, cause he doesn't feel the need to when he has you." Seora giggles.

"I like it, though. Just us two."

"Would you be mad if your dad started dating again?" 

"Um, I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess it depends? If I like the person or not."

"Of course he'd make sure you're happy and that you'd get along well with the person."

"Mmyeah. It'd be an adjustment, though. I'm used to it being just us two."

"I know, and your dad is, too. But, he does deserve to be happy, right?"

"What else can make him happier than me, Uncle Hwa?" He laughs and shakes his head. 

"You're right. He is happy." Seonghwa pauses. "Seora, promise me one thing?"

"I can try?"

"You'll keep your mind open to it? You know.. your dad dating and possibly opening the door for another person to step in."

"Mm, sure." She says before there's a brief pause in the conversation. "Sometimes, I wonder what it'd be like to have a mom. I barely got time with mine." She says softly, her voice tapering off at the end of the statement.

"And it was unfair to you." Seonghwa lets out a breath as he navigates the tricky streets of the city, almost nearing their endpoint. 

"Right? Like.. I wonder how it feels to hang out with your mom, or to go on dates with her. Talk to her about girly stuff. Do our hair and makeup together. Nails. Go shopping." Seonghwa turns to her as he stops at a red light, watching as her eyes continue to focus on the surroundings outside. "Dad tries his best. He always tries to do things with me so I don't have to wonder too much, but sometimes I can't help it."

"That's okay, Seora. He knows. He does try his best always, but he knows that question will always be there." She's silent again for a moment, and Seonghwa isn't sure if she's missing her mom or trying to replay the memories that she has left of her. It breaks his heart because he knows Seora is missing a part of her— she just manages to mask it well. 

"Yeah." Is all she responds with me. "I dunno, maybe one day I'll remember what it's like." She says softly. "I have dad for now though, and he's enough."

"One day." Seonghwa repeats after her, not wanting to plunge deeper into the conversation and turn Seora's mood inside out tonight. "Well." He pulls into a spot across the street from the burger place. "There's a convenience store I can run into for your ice cream. What are you craving for?"

"Strawberry, please!"

"That's a good one." He unbuckles his seatbelt before turning to her. "I'll grab our stuff and be back." She gives him a toothless smile and nods, eyes glued onto him as he slams the door shut and locks the car; leaving Seora to her own while she waits patiently in her seat.

Yunho pulls up to Ara's building, parking in the lot after getting through security at the gate. He unbuckles his seat belt and lets out a sigh, dusting himself down before slipping out and heading inside. He presses the front code at the lobby door before stepping inside and heading up to the 3rd floor. When he finally gets to her door, he knocks a few times before stepping back and digging his hands into his pockets.

"Yunho." She says, a smile on her face. She's in a cute baby blue sweater and jeans, white chucks on her feet. It's more of a casual thing, nothing too serious or too fancy. It makes Yunho a little more comfortable that way. Less pressure. "Hey."

"Hey. You look nice." Yunho smiles at her. "Ready?" She nods. "Hope you're down for some ramen?"

"I can always go for some good ramen." She smiles and makes sure her door is shut and locked before following him back down.

"How was your day off?"

"It was good! I spent the day grabbing groceries and deep cleaning my space. But otherwise, it was nice and relaxing. Just what I needed." Yunho looks at her with a small smile.

"That's good. I'm glad you got to relax for the most part. You definitely need it with how hard you work."

"Thanks." She giggles. "How was work today?" He shrugs, her eyes ogling his figure as they step into the elevator. He's in a white longsleeve and a puffer vest, dark denim and chucks.

"Kinda busy. Things are really ramping up with that new department. I feel like our team is constantly getting pulled into things left and right now."

"Aren't you guys hiring another person?" He nods.

"Hopefully, yeah. I have a few more interviews this upcoming week, but should be wrapping up after that. There's two people that the team and I like so far."

"That's good. More help is on the way. A step closer to shedding off some of your workload." Yunho chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, that's the hope. Taehyun has been a lot of help, though. It hasn't been entirely bad."

"That's good to hear." Yunho swings the door open to the passenger's seat, giving Ara the opportunity to slip in and get herself comfortable before he shuts the door and hops in. 

"Heat okay? Too hot?" He asks as he starts up the car and pulls up the directions to a popular ramen shop that just opened last month. The wait is outrageous, but luckily, Yunho threw them onto the waitlist as soon as they opened for dinner. They'll get there just in time for their table to be ready. 

"No, it's perfect."

"Cool." He says, pulling off to begin their journey deep into the city. Ara watches as he drives off flawlessly with one hand, leaning onto the middle console. It's no lie that Ara has always had a crush on Yunho, and she's always thought he was incredibly attractive. She kept her distance though, supporting him as a friend and being careful not to be in too, too deep with her feelings because she didn't wanna scare him off or make him uncomfortable. When he finally asked her out to a casual dinner , she was excited. Butterflies swarming her tummy at full speed— she feels like her patience is paying off.

Maybe this will blossom into something; the one thing she had hoped for with him.

"How's Miss Seora doing?" 

"She's good. Still getting good grades and playing basketball. She's hanging out with her Uncle Seonghwa right now." Ara smiles.

"That's cute. It's really sweet how you guys are close."

"Yeah, he's helped me alot with Seora. She loves having her uncles around. Gives her something new to deal with besides her own father." She laughs.

"I'm sure that girl loves and appreciates you more than anything, Yunho. You're a great dad."

"I try to be." He shrugs. "Although, she used to hate when I tried to do her hair and dress her up. She said I mixed and matched clothes way too much and her ponytails were always lopsided."

"You did your best." Ara laughs a little louder. "Doing hair and dressing up a baby girl is not for the faint of heart."

"Truly isn't." He laughs, while Ara points at his pinky nail. 

"I see she painted your nails?" Yunho briefly looks down at his two pinkies, painted with black nail polish. 

"Sure did. She kept it minimal, though. For work, she says. Just a lil touch." Ara giggles.

"You two are cute."

"Mm, we try to be." Yunho jokes. The conversation continues on as Yunho drives the last 10 minutes to the ramen shop, finding parking right around the corner despite the busy streets and the long line that's forming right outside of the restaurant. He helps Ara out of the car before locking it up, walking alongside of her until it gets too tight to do so. He guides her by the small of her back, pushing her towards the front of the restaurant where the host is. As guessed, they arrive right when their table is ready, the host immediately showing them to their table in the back corner.

She settles into the chair across from him before thanking the host and taking the menu from her hands. They instantly skim their options, with Yunho already deciding on what he wants. He marks it off on the sheet, along with any modifications he wants [extra spicy, extra green onions], while Ara does the same. When they're ready to submit their orders, Yunho calls over the server, handing them their order papers before clasping his hands together—elbow resting on the table as he looks over at her. She's trying her hardest not to blush while sipping on her water, eyes avoiding eye contact cause Yunho makes her feel a certain way.

He just doesn't know if he can reciprocate the feeling. 

Truthfully, if he's being all the way honest— he went into this thinking it'd be chill. Harmless in a sense. Putting himself out there since he didn't have much to lose. He knew Ara's had feelings; even if she never said it out loud, it's pretty obvious. And not to say she isn't a great girl, no. She's great. She's been a good friend to Yunho, and she's incredibly sweet. He couldn't really tell you why he didn't see her in that light, though. Perhaps, he still wasn't ready for a relationship. Or, maybe he was and he already had a feeling that she wouldn't be the right one.

Maybe he's being too critical.

But all he knows, is that in this moment, Ara is giving him heart eyes and she's blushing over everything he does. It makes him feel good, but the other half of him feels bad because when he looks at her, he just sees a friend. Good company.

The night is still early.

Yunho is trying to remind himself.

When the food arrives, they get to eating right away. In between, Yunho dives a little deeper into his dynamic with Seora, touching up on the fact that he doesn't really get a long with his parents but will bear with them solely because of her. Even though they don't do much for their granddaughter, she still wonders about them and how they're doing. She always talks about seeing them soon even though Yunho can never promise that she will. He doesn't talk about Eunha, though. Kinda leaves the conversation at that. He feels like he needs to build a better connection with someone in order to open up about that part of his past. Not only is it too painful, but it's a subject that makes Yunho incredibly vulnerable.

The good thing with Ara is that she doesn't budge nor does she push. She ends up talking a lot about her childhood and growing up with her parents in exchange. She has lived a pretty good life; her parents supporting both her and her sister throughout all their endeavors. Her sister works abroad in the fashion industry, while Ara decided to take the healthcare route. Her parents were supportive nonetheless, pushing them to strive for their dreams and supporting them through every opportunity that came their way. Yunho thinks it's nice that they have that sort of relationship— it speaks volumes to the way Ara carries herself and how sweet she is. She makes a great nurse, a great daughter and sister; and it almost makes her a little too perfect.

Which, isn't bad.

But, also isn't great for Yunho. Because all he is made of is flaws and all; he's got a lot of things he lacks in, he feels. He hasn't been in a serious relationship since Eunha passed and he isn't even sure he knows what the word love is anymore. What it's like to love and be loved. He doesn't focus on himself a majority of the time because that time and attention goes to this daughter. He wouldn't have it any other way, let's get that straight.

However, it's clear Ara has this 'perfect' image of him in her head when he is far from that. He is merely getting by; things hurt the fuck outta him and he stresses over every little thing. He gets overwhelmed easily, anxious, can barely let go of the past trauma.

He doesn't wanna disappoint her. Anyone, as a matter of fact.

The conversation continues until they've both slurped up the last bits of their ramen, and Yunho genuinely enjoyed it once they've stopped talking so deeply. Conversations come easy with Ara and he does like that. He doesn't have to try too hard to think about what to talk about next or how to carry the conversation. Brief pauses in between don't feel awkward.

It's nice.

After dinner, he pays for their meal and turns down Ara's efforts to pay for her half. They joke and tease on the way back to the car, with Yunho turning up the music a tad bit louder this time around so it helps fill the empty space in the car. He feels himself getting a little exhausted, but when Ara looks at him with those eyes and asks if he wants to come up for a bit, he finds himself confused; he should be saying no, but he ends up with:

"Sure." Yunho gives her a tiny, toothless smile as she leads the way back up to her loft. Yunho feels bad for even thinking about going back on his decision because it feels pretty intimate to be coming into someone's space after dinner. He doesn't wanna be rude, though. And, he did enjoy their talk over dinner.

So, he continues despite the inner turmoil that's starting to form.

Back upstairs, Ara kicks off her shoes first before Yunho does. He stands awkwardly near the door while she sets her things down, following her into the living room area once she starts padding over. He plops onto the couch and settles into it; leaning back to rest, arm positioned on the back edge of the couch. Ara gives him a glass of water before sitting down next to him, and Yunho feels himself tense up a bit when he feels her leg brush against his. She's got some kind of psychological thriller show on, and Yunho's trying his best to get invested as it continues to play. Ara gives him a little bit more context to the show, describing it with such big eyes and an excited tone that Yunho finds it pretty cute. 

Then, at some point, she has somehow shifted in her position and is now sitting right against him. He still has his arm on the back of the couch, and she has slotted herself in that opening— sitting criss-crossed as she continues to watch her show. He feels her warmth against his, and he's not sure how to act.

She probably feels how stiff and rigid he is.

"You okay?" She asks and he gives her a smile.

"Yeah, why?"

"I dunno. You got quiet."

"I'm trying to keep up with your show." She laughs.

"It's a lot." 

"All good. It's interesting." He looks down at her. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes are glazing over his features. He watches as she scans his face, down to his lips, and he feels himself swallow thickly because he knows where this is going. She's the first to pull up— suddenly pressing her lips against his in that brief moment they shared and Yunho indulges in it. They hold the kiss there for a second longer before Yunho [mistakenly] deepens the kiss and pulls her onto his lap. The kiss heightens quickly, the show in the background long forgotten. He lets out a shaky exhale in between kisses, with Ara gently pressing herself down against him. She takes Yunho's hand and guides it up her stomach, to her chest— landing on her breast. His eyes widen a bit, the shock causing him to slightly pull back from the kiss to try and read her. She nods though, subtly biting her lip as she leans forward to kiss him again; a soft moan releasing from her lips when he squeezes the flesh in the palm of his hand while she starts to pepper kisses along his jaw, neck.

And as much as he can easily fall into this, say fuck it and just go with it— that's not who he is.

"Wait." Yunho pries his lips off of hers, his hand retracting from her body. "Wait." He repeats.

"What's wrong?" She asks, eyes still full of desire, lust. He can see the way she looks at him and it's even more of a reason to push off. Reality hits tough, and Yunho thinks this is a prime example of when it's both a blessing and a curse.

"Ara, I'm sorry. I'm—" He looks at her with his big, brown, sad eyes. Because it's not her at all, it's him. He's just not into this and he doesn't really know how else to tell her. "I can't." She sinks into her seat and Yunho feels so, so bad. "I don't wanna do that to you." He sighs and scoots back a bit. "You're great, you really are. But, you deserve someone who is sure of you. I'm sorry I can't be that person. I just— I just think we're good as friends." He sighs. "I'm sorry if I had lead you on or gave you any mixed signals, that wasn't my intention." He says softly, and Ara can't even be livid at him because of how genuinely sweet and apologetic he's being. "I shouldn't have come up here—"

"Yunho, it's okay." She says with a forced, reassuring smile, hopping off his lap because damn, this is awkward. Not only does the rejection hit her hard, but she must look desperate and way too needy for him now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to move so quickly, I thought—"

"You don't have to apologize." Yunho stands and gathers himself. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just.."

"We're better off as friends." She finishes the statement and he can't help but shrug. He doesn't know how to explain it, but he doesn't want her to think she did anything wrong.

She didn't.

"I hope you believe me when I say it isn't you. You are amazing and anyone would be lucky to have you. I—I haven't done this in a long time and quite frankly, I don't think I'm ready."

"Or maybe, it's just not me you want. And that's okay, Yunho. You're probably right— maybe we are just better off as friends."

"I'm sorry." He says weakly. "I really hope I didn't mess this up because I'd still like for us to be the same as we were before."

"No, of course not." She says even though it's obvious she's got tears welling in her eyes and she's hurt. Yunho feels his heart drop, but at the same time, he knew he had to stop it before it could get too deep—

Before he could make a terrible mistake; do the unthinkable to someone he cared about as a friend first and foremost.

"Ara."

"I promise it's all okay." She nods. "I agree with you, and we shouldn't force this if it's not meant to happen." She gives him another forced smile.

"I'll head out and give you some space. I'm sorry." Is all he can respond with. He walks over to her door and slips back into his shoes before looking back at her. She purses her lips and doesn't say much, and it makes Yunho feel like he's already ruined this.

Damn, Yunho.

"I'll see you on Monday, yeah?" She nods quietly again while opening the door for him.

"Thanks again for dinner. It was great. I can send you my half—"

"No, no need. Dinner was on me, remember? It's totally fine." He gives her a tiny, toothless smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She answers, allowing him to walk further down the hall before shutting the door and getting back to her own peace. She's hurt, not gonna lie. She truly felt like there was hope, especially with the texts exchanged and the way he was good to her tonight. But, looking back at it, it could have been her fault for completely assuming and jumping the gun— it was Yunho just being Yunho.

Oh well.

Maybe things will be better in the future, and the timing would align. She understands he has different priorities right now, and that's okay. Who is she to determine that for him?

Yunho gets back into his car and lets out a hefty sigh, sitting there for a second before grumbling a low 'fuck' to himself. He feels really bad and he knew he should've dropped her off and left it at that.

But, no. 

He had to go and be stupid about it.

At least he can say he tried, right? That should count for something.

"Wanna put up another movie? Your dad's date—" Seonghwa pauses and looks at Seora as she furrows her brows at him. They had put on a movie after Seora freshened up for the evening. She didn't have too much homework, so she finished up the last bits with the first movie on before they had indulged in dinner. Now, her and her Uncle Hwa were eating ice cream, looking at more movie options to throw on until her father would get home. "Your dad's team dinner should be done by now."

"Date?"

"I didn't say that."

"Uncle Hwa." 

"What?" Seora gives him one last look before pinching him on the bicep, causing him to let out a yelp. "Swear! I don't know where you heard that from." He cocks a brow up playfully. "It's a team dinner."

"Oooookay." She playfully cuts her eyes at him before going through the movie options. "You can just say so."

"Ou, look." Seonghwa diverts her attention to the TV and points at a movie to put on. "Let's watch Rogue One, I haven't seen that one in a minute."

"Or, we can watch Degrassi or—"

"You definitely don't need to poison your brain watching that mess."

"You sound more like my dad than my dad." Seonghwa scoffs as he takes the remote and puts on Rogue One.

"You need to watch more educational things. Like Rogue One. Stepping into your powers and using them for good."

"They're a group of rebels, Uncle Hwa."

"A group of rebels preventing mass destruction!" Seora sighs as she sits back and finishes the rest of her ice cream, knowing her uncle is very much into Star Wars and lets him have it. It's quiet for a moment before she pops in again, asking about his plans for tonight.

"Have you decided?"

"On what? How I'd use my powers for good?" His eyes are trained on the tv.

"No, silly. If you're meeting Yoori." He looks at her before returning his attention back to the TV.

"Why does it matter if I do or not?"

"Uncle Hwa, you can do whatever you want. Just don't mess up because you're too afraid to admit your feelings."

"Hey!" He looks at her with a brow cocked up. "How do you even know about things like that?"

"I'm about to be 12."

"Yeah, you were born yesterday." She playfully rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You shouldn't be knowing things like that."

"Please. I am right, aren't I?"

"I don't know if I'm going to go yet because I have work tomorrow."

"I hear excuses." He gasps.

"Jeong Seora—"

"Yo!" Yunho walks in right at that moment, causing Seora to shift her attention to the door; tormenting her uncle now a long lost thought in her head.

 "Dad!" Seora squeals and runs over to her dad, koala'ing him and causing him to laugh when she hangs onto him like tomorrow will never come. "You're home!"

"I am." 

"How was your team dinner?" Seonghwa looks at him, wiggling his eyebrows while Seora is still preoccupied with grabbing her dad's attention.

"Date, you mean."

"What?" Yunho looks down at her.

"Uh, Uncle Hwa said you went out on a date." Yunho knits his brows at Seonghwa and all he can do is shrug.

"No, I never said that." Hwa cuts in to lie again. "I said team dinner. Anything else you heard was created by your own mind." Yunho glares at him.

"Did you?" Seora looks up at her dad, chin pressed against his chest while she keeps her arms around him.

"It was just a team dinner, is all."

"Sure." Seora sarcastically says before unwrapping herself from him and walking off to the bathroom. "It's fine or whatever, you know!" She shuts the bathroom door.

"See you've managed to talk to Seora about a lot."

"Sorry, it kinda slipped out." Seonghwa chuckles and Yunho mocks him. "Besides, she was just grilling me about Yoori."

"How did that happen?"

"Yoori texted me earlier asking if I wanted to come over while ace was putting in her order. She was scolding me right before you walked in. That girl is way ahead of her time."

"Been knew that." Yunho chuckles.

"How'd it go? Did you and Ara do anything?"

"Anything as in dinner, yes?" Yunho is confused, even though he knows exactly what Seonghwa is picking at.

"Okay.. and?" Yunho sighs and shakes his head.

"Kissed her but didn't go very far." He mumbles lowly.

"Why not?"

"I just wasn't feeling it, honest to god. I didn't wanna do that to her." At this point, Seora swings the door back open, causing both Seonghwa and Yunho to turn their attention down the hall before looking at each other. 

"We'll talk about this later." Hwa chuckles a bit. "Should've gone all the way." He says barely above a whisper.

"No." Yunho almost scoffs while he grabs his things and prepares to head out. "Get out." Unbelievable.

"On my way, boss." Seonghwa laughs. "Let me go say bye to ace." He walks down the hallway, giving Seora another big, tight hug before heading out. Yunho gives him one last final goodbye before shutting the door and locking up for the night, heading in to catch up with Seora and hang out with her before the night ends.

"So, really dad. How did your team dinner go?" She smirks as she comes back outside and plops on the couch. Yunho chuckles a bit before shrugging.

"The usual. It was.. good bonding time."

"Hm." She hums. "That's good. What did you guys get to eat?"

"Ramen."

"A fine choice for this cold evening." He laughs.

"Wanna continue a few episodes before we call it a night? I'm just gonna change."

"Sure. Do you want me to grab you a bowl of ice cream? I made Uncle Hwa buy me some strawberry ice cream after picking up our burgers. Ice cream is the best when it's cold out."

"That sounds good, ace. Thank you." She smiles while getting up to grab a bowl of ice cream for her dad, excited to finally spend the rest of the evening with him all to herself.

"Dad! My friends are waiting." She pouts a bit, staring at her father as she stands near the passenger door, watching as he slips into his shoes.

"Seora, I promise you I'm coming." Yunho pats his jeans down before doing one final check around the house to make sure everything has been shut off post-breakfast. Meanwhile, you've parked your car near your parents' front gate, grabbing your bag from the front seat before looking at the house and letting out a sigh. You'd give your parents some time today, accompanying them to buy groceries and while running other errands. You knew it'd be a long day, but you did owe it to them.

You needed to do better, you reminded yourself.

Just as you're about to make your way towards the gate, a familiar face comes popping out of the next door house— causing you to pause in your motions and furrow your brows in pure, utter confusion.

Yunho?

"Hi?" You look at Yunho [clearly confused] as he hurries along to the driver's seat. He does a quick double take before pausing briefly, also giving you the same look you gave him a few seconds ago.

"Hey?" He says. "You're—"

"Yeah. My parents."

"Dad, please—" Seora swings the door open. "Oh my god— we're gonna be so late." He lets out a small sigh as he checks the time and realizes they won't be late— his daughter is just eager to get to her friends per usual.

"Seora." He calls her name once more. "You're not gonna be late, okay? Relax." He turns to you with a small smile. "Sorry. Gotta run. I'll talk to you later? Say hi to your parents for me." You give him a small nod before he slips in. You watch him talk to his daughter while slipping on his seatbelt, wasting no time to pull away and drive off shortly afterwards.

"Hey you!" Your mom says, coming down to unlatch the gate.

"Hey. Yunho is your neighbor?" Your eyes are still on the road.

"Yeah, you've met him before at work? I didn't think you two ever crossed paths at the hospitals."

"We don't, but we're working on a big project together now." Your mom smiles from ear to ear.

"He's a good man. Seora, she's growing up to be such a lovely young lady. They're sweet. Such peaceful neighbors. Cutest duo I know." She drags you inside. "Go say hi to your dad, he's in the sunroom watering his plants. Tell him we should eat so we can go." She starts prepping the servings. "Where's Wonwoo?"

"Busy." Your mom gives you a look. "But, we're coming back next weekend. He just made plans already and can't flake."

"I'm sure his friends would've understood if he told them he was visiting his parents."

"Mom. We're coming back next weekend, okay? Please let him be" Your mom gives you a look before setting the food down for a late breakfast while you greet your dad and give him a big hug. 

"So, sounds like you met Yunho?" Your dad asks as you both walk back inside to finally before heading out to run errands.

"I did. Well, during a work meeting. Then, I just ran into him not too long ago. Looks like him and his daughter were in a rush to leave somewhere."

"He's taking her and her friends out shopping." 

"And how do you know that, Miss Ma'am?" You look at your mom while she places a bowl of rice down in front of you.

"I pop in to check on them from time to time. I dropped off some of this food earlier so they could eat it later."

"Do you always bring them food?"

"Most of the time."

"Your mom cooks with them in mind." Your dad adds.

"Oh, hush. I feel bad for the two sometimes. Yunho's been doing it all by himself." Your mom clicks her teeth, mainly out of guilt and worry. The three of you continue to eat away at the food your mom prepared, getting some fuel in to save money on food. "His wife passed away when Seora was just 4 years old."

"Honey." Your dad says. "Can you not tell his whole life story?"

"Why not? I wanna know."

"Then ask him." Your dad says, suddenly getting protective of Yunho. "I know you feel bad, but you should let him tell his story if he wants to."

"Your dad is such a grump."

"Okay, no. He's kinda right." You agree before getting way too ahead of yourself. It is a sensitive subject, and it shouldn't be told by anyone else other than Yunho himself.

"He's a really good guy, though. You should get to know him. Wonwoo, too. Maybe you two will learn a bit more about discipline and spending time with your loved ones before it's too late." You roll your eyes even though there is truth to the statement. 

"Anyway, enough about that. Where are we going today?"

"Well, we have a bunch of groceries to grab. I also need to stop by the pharmacy to pick up my medicine."

"We need to stop by the furniture store too. We've been planning to replace the couch in the living room because of the wear and tear. I think it's time." Your dad reminds your mom.

"Do you guys know what couch you want already or are we gonna shop there?"

"Gonna shop there."

"I do need to find a new shelf for my room."

"See, spending time with your parents can be beneficial."

"Dad, can you please tell her to stop?"

"Honey. She's here, okay? Your son is coming next weekend. All is well."

you: she's doing it again

wonwoo: sorry dude 😖  i'll be there next weekend to take it all

wonwoo: where are you guys going?

you: groceries, pharmacy, furniture shopping

wonwoo: actually sounds kinda fun

you: yeah? then why aren't you here, dumbo

wonwoo: i'm currently in a cabin near the south end 😎 living in peace

you: bye

While you've managed to peacefully eat the rest of your meal with your parents before heading out, Yunho and Mingi are walking around the department store while the girls go from floor to floor, section to section. They managed to snag some coffee before heading in, Yunho already exhausted from picking up Seora's friends to fighting over parking in the already-full mall garage. He's glad he finally gets a moment to chill out for a second, despite the girls squealing and being loud about how cute certain clothes or items are. He's already bought some of her stationary needs, along with a new color-way of Nike dunks she had been eyeing since release.

His wallet will be crying even more in due time, but it's all worth it if Seora goes home happy and content.

"Seora." She turns to look at her dad. "Not too far, okay?"

"Okay, we're just going over there to the juniors section!" Yunho and Mingi watch them speed off to the other corner before browsing the mens section nearby, Mingi already eyeing a jacket near the front racks.

"So."

"Just ask, Mingi." Yunho spits, making Mingi laugh.

"I see your date with Ara didn't go too well?"

"It wasn't even a date. I just went out to dinner with her and it was fine. We had a good time then, it was what happened after that didn't go well."

"Okay, so? What happened after?" Mingi sips his iced americano while the two of them continue to walk around the store, keeping the girls in eye view ahead. 

"We went back to her place, she invited me in." Yunho shrugs. "We were watching stuff on her TV and things kinda escalated. Started kissing her then she tried pushing it further."

"And you said no?"

"Mingi." Yunho looks at him. "You know I'm not like that. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it to her. I just can't if I'm not emotionally tied to someone." Mingi nods.

"Nah, that's fair. And probably the right thing to do."

"Probably? It is the right thing to do."

"Right." Mingi responds, a bit distracted by the fine women passing by as they continue to walk around the store. "No, you're right. Sorry." He brings his attention back to his bestfriend. "Assuming Seora didn't know you went out with a lady friend?"

"I don't know, Hwa might've let it slip and I think she believed it but doesn't wanna ask. Or maybe, she doesn't even care." Yunho chuckles.

"I think she'd be fine with you going out on dates, you know? Maybe you don't have to lie to her about it. At some point, she'll need to know especially if you get serious with someone again."

"I'll open up to her about it when I get there. I'm in no rush, though."

"Fair."

"Randomly speaking, I finally saw one of Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids today."

"Oh, really?"

"She works with me at the hospital. She's at the pediatric unit, though."

"Is she hot?" Yunho clicks his teeth and looks at him.

"Do you ever think about anything else?"

"I'm genuinely asking." Mingi smiles.

"She's pretty."

"What's her name?"

"No."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you don't even know her."

"You want her for yourself, huh?" Yunho just pauses to look at his bestfriend, causing Mingi to smirk while continuing to project. "Selfish son of a bitch."

"I'll deck you—"

"Dad." Yunho and Mingi turn their attention to Seora and her friends, who each have a few clothing items hanging on their arms. "We're gonna go try these on." She points to the dressing room in the far corner behind the juniors section.

"Okay. Uncle Mingi and I will head over in a bit." He subtly elbows Mingi near the rib, causing him to let out a small 'ow.'

"Good, cause I wanna show you how it looks so hurry." She says, turning on her heel to rush over to the dressing room with her friends without batting an eye at her dad and uncle's antics. 

"The fuck was that for? Seriously, do you have your eyes on Auntie Love and Uncle Po's daughter?" Yunho glares at Mingi again as they slowly head over to the dressing room.

"I don't know, okay? I barely know her." Yunho sips on his coffee. "We're gonna be working together quite a bit from now on though because of that new department."

"Interesting."

"Interesting?" Mingi gives him a look. "Why are you giving me that look? It was both you and Hwa who told me to put myself out there."

"Yeah, I'm very aware. And that's great! I just wanted to know if she was cute or not." Mingi laughs. "So, what's her name?" He asks again, making Yunho rolls his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Y/N."

"Pretty."

"That's all I'm telling you."

"Mhhhm." Mingi hums and laughs. "Hope it works out."

"Whatever happens, happens."

"Speaking of things happening— are you and Ara still friends?"

"I think so. We didn't end the night entirely on a bad note. At least, I don't think so. I felt bad and kept apologizing, but she said she understood and it was fine."

"You know it's never just that."

"Well, I'm aware I hurt her to an extent. I'm not gonna lie and try to brush that off."

"You think she'll talk to you if you run into her on Monday?"

"Maybe. I hope so. I really do want us to keep being friends."

"Of course." 

"And who knows, maybe now just isn't the right time. It could work out later."

"Yeah, maybe. But also, if I can be frank, you really don't seem all that into her. I feel like that dinner would've gone way differently if you were set on her." Yunho shrugs.

"It's not her fault. She didn't do anything wrong."

"I mean, it's fine. You probably can already tell you aren't compatible, plus I know you're thinking about how Seora would get along with her, too."

"Mmyeah. I think she woud've liked Ara, but I think you're right. I don't think we'd be compatible."

"Isn't it kinda early to say that, though?"

"Dunno. You tell me. I'm just going off of my gut feeling. I can't force myself to feel a certain way."

"Touché." Mingi sighs. "It's alright, my guy. We still have time. You'll find someone. Maybe it's Y/N."

"Shut up." Mingi laughs before sipping on his coffee, distractedly heading back to the menswear to grab the jacket he had been eyeing this entire time. While he tries it on and pays for his item, Yunho sits near the dressing room while scrolling through his phone. He finds your Instagram page being recommended to him, which he finds to be somewhat uncanny now that he's been talking about you and running into you [despite being assigned to the same project at work]. He can't help but be nosey, clicking onto your page to scroll through your pictures. 

You are pretty.

"Dad." Yunho shifts his attention from his phone to Seora, who is standing in front of him in beige cargo pants and an oversized baseball jacket that looks just like the one he's wearing at the moment. "What do you think about the jacket and pants?" Yunho smiles and nods.

"That looks good, ace."

"I really like that jacket of yours." She points and he nods.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've bought one for you at the time." She shrugs.

"I didn't think too much about it before. Now I want it." He laughs.

"It looks good."

"Okay, I'm gonna try on this one other shirt and sweater and I think I'll be good. Can I buy them?" 

"If you promise me you'll wear it more than once." 

"I promise!"

"Swear? I better not find it in your donation pile in the next few weeks."

"Dad, I pinky promise. For real."

"Okay then." 

"Yay!" She turns her attention to her friends who are also coming out to show each other what they've been trying on. "Oh my god, that's so cute—" She says, heading back into the fitting room and leaving Yunho alone to your instagram page. He continues scrolling through slowly, peeking at your pics from your travels.

You and your friends that he recognizes from the hospital.

Your selfies where the natural light hits you perfectly.

Your candid photos where your smile is genuine and contagious.

You and your brother, your parents that he and Seora adore.

You really are pretty, and there's something about you that is enticing. Intriguing. A 'lil magnetic and alluring. 

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to work alongside of you on this project.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster

[please-destroy]

First Fall of Snow

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

.

‘Downstairs in ten minutes.’ Natasha walked right past you with her matter of fact greeting.

You held your tongue but your gaze caught Tony’s knowing one. You rolled your eyes at his smirk, every morning was the same.

You kept quiet as you stood up from the breakfast table. Your muscles ached with anticipation for the inevitably exhausting sparring match.

It was just a regular Tuesday.

You never thought you’d be used to such a rigorous regime.

.

You’d first been identified for the Avengers’ Initiative after you’d tipped off the authorities about a human trafficking ring in New York. 

It had been the scariest moment of your life. Your sixth sense for reading other people’s intentions was something that you’d always wanted to keep hidden. You were terrified of what might happen if the wrong people found out.

You couldn’t explain how you’d learned about the criminal gang. You’d hesitated to even call the police.

In the end, you’d left the anonymous tip and intended to leave the city too.

A nondescript van had been waiting for you at the airport instead. 

Director Fury had recruited you right then, on the drive back into the city. 

You’d been wary of the prickling warning signs that even his presence gave you. You’d reminded yourself that complicated intentions were not always bad ones.

Instead, you’d focused on Agent Hill, sitting across from you in the van. Her piercing stare was steady and integrity radiated out from her. 

You decided that there were worse organisations to join.

It had taken Shield less than a day to move you into the Avengers Tower. 

It had taken Natasha Romanoff just over a week to return from her mission and take over your training.

.

The first time you saw her, you were playing video games in the shared living area of the Tower. At her entrance, you automatically stood up from the sofa.

Her hair was braided neatly back. Her gym clothes were non-descript. 

She was so beautiful that it stung.

Natasha’s stare was assessing. She asked you a question. You watched her lips move as you forgot how to process the English language.

Tony muttered something rude from his seat to the side of you. 

‘Downstairs in ten.’ Natasha simply announced, leaving you to scramble back to your room and change into some gym clothes. 

Everything about Natasha’s entrance felt purposeful. 

You wondered if she was careful with her intentions around you, or if she really lived in such a steady state of calm. 

You were already impressed before you’d even walked into the gym. 

When you entered, Natasha looked small from across the room. More ironically, she looked harmless too.

She had a knee pressed against your throat in the first twenty seconds.

A sixth sense was definitely useful but your lack of defensive skills was a glaring weakness.

You quickly learned that Natasha Romanoff did not tolerate weakness.

.

That year, you watched the first New York City snowfall through the highrise windows of your new home. 

You also received purpling bruises as if they were early Christmas gifts.

Your life stopped being your own. Your diet was prescribed. Your training was exact.

By the New Year, you were exhausted, tired and painfully aware of your lack of ability.

You considered quitting the team every time that you walked into another sparring session. Great opportunities were only great if you wanted to have them. You’d never wanted to be a fighter.

.

There was one morning when you took an unexpected hit from Natasha. She caught you unexpectedly from the side and you tumbled sideways, slamming into the hardwood floor unceremoniously. 

You lay on the ground, trying to catch your breath as you watched Natasha walk away with some otherworldly grace to the side of the gym. 

Your gaze landed on the door at the farside of the room. You felt the sudden urge to walk out. All this pain and your progress was hardly noticeable. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted to do more than leave.

For the first time, you felt Natasha’s intentions shift in front of you.

‘Go on then.’ She called out before taking a gulp from her water bottle. 

It had taken nearly six months for her to break a sweat whilst sparring with you. Your eyes caught on the wisps of hair that escaped her braids. They were curling slightly as heat radiated from her. She seemed more beautiful now than ever.

‘If you can’t take it, then you can leave.’ Natasha continued, voice openly challenging. Her eyebrow raised daringly as she stared at you.

It was a front. Your sixth sense pricked as Natasha’s disappointment filled the room.

You thought of all the lives that you could have saved. All the bad intentions from stranger’s that you’d chosen to ignore.

You got to your feet slowly. 

Agent Romanoff could walk through fire unscathed. You wanted to be that brave. 

You owed it to the people who had died because of your hesitation.

The feeling of Natasha’s satisfaction was overwhelming. The only hint of it on her face was the smallest of smirks.

It was hard not to have a crush.

Natasha was unshakeable. You were never good at feeling steady.

You were careful not to assume even a friendship with her. 

It had happened naturally with the other Avengers but with Natasha there was a tension in the air. 

Maybe, it was because she’d seen you at your least competent.

Maybe it was because you wanted Natasha to like you far too much to risk the rejection. 

.

Soon enough, the summer sunshine returned to New York. You watched the trees change in Central Park.

You buried your feelings. You worked harder in every workout. 

Training started to feel like all you had, days merged together. You let it be enough. You lived for the brief cracks in Natasha’s calm mask. The flicker of a smile, the passing of a water bottle when you’d finally earned a break.

.

Somehow, living with the Avengers, each day felt endless but whole months could fly by.

The rhythm of meeting Natasha in the gym was second nature to you now. You came to breakfast already in your workout clothes. 

You took the employee staircase at the back of the building down to the gym, learning to shave a minute from your journey time.

Natasha had demanded high performance from you since the day she’d met you. Finally, you were learning how to give it.

.

It was as you hurried past the large window on the staircase landing, that you saw the first snowflakes flutter down over the city.

Your heart stopped at the sight. You wondered if the seasons could really change so fast.

You paused on the staircase and gripped the bannister. You saw the well-defined muscles in your own arm tighten.

Deja vu coated you like its own fresh flurry of snow. You remembered the aching bruises that you’d had the last time you’d seen a view like this.

You felt peaceful and victorious as you stared out. Your shallow breaths misted the cold window. 

You let yourself lose track of time.

You jolted when you heard the swinging door shut below you. You looked over the bannister. 

Natasha stared back up at you, arms folded in an imitation of impatience. 

‘Ten minutes.’ She reminded you, as if it was still your first day. 

You smiled.

Maybe it was because of the way her short ponytail bounced as she craned her neck upward.

Maybe it was because of the fresh snow on the windowsill and the feeling in your veins like you might finally have made something of yourself.

Maybe it was because nothing sounded better than spending another morning with Natasha.

You smiled wider. 

You realised that you couldn’t stop. Your cheeks stung with the electric buzz of happiness.

You felt an answering ripple in Natasha’s calm exterior. 

Confusion rolled through her as her head tilted curiously. You saw her crossed arms tighten. 

‘I can’t believe it’s been a year.’ You said softly. ‘Thank you Natasha, for everything.’

Natasha blinked twice and her eyes seemed impossibly wide from your higher up position. 

She shrugged and her voice rasped when she next spoke.

‘You’re the one who did all the work.’ Natasha reminded you. ‘You’re the one who didn’t give up.’

You didn’t know how to acknowledge all the credit that she was shrugging off.

You started to walk down the rest of the stairs.

‘Sometimes, I think about all the things I could have done.’ You confessed suddenly. ‘All the lives I could have saved if I’d been prepared before.’

Natasha’s breath caught and you felt a wave of shock shatter through her emanating confidence. 

‘And now, I’ll never have to hesitate again.’ You continued, as you closed the distance between you. It was warmer down here, standing away from the large window. 

Impossibly, Natasha felt closer now than she’d ever been before. 

You paused as her arms slowly unfolded and her hands moved to her sides. You caught the brief movement of her fingernails digging into her palms.

‘I know that exact feeling.’ Natasha rasped out. 

Her voice was a whisper and you focused on her lips as you tried to catch every word. 

Her hands tightened into fists again.

‘There was this place called the Red Room.’ She told you with the same tightness. ‘It took me years to end it.’

The air was filled with brokenness. For the first time, Natasha seemed fragile. Her eyes darted between you and the bright light of the window. 

Every instinct told you what to do next. You still paused. 

You’d learned how to fight with Natasha. You’d taken blows and bruises nearly every time you’d sparred together. Never had you been so hesitant as right now. 

Your fingers slipped carefully in between her tight ones. You slowly loosened her fists, rubbing out the tension in her knuckles. 

Natasha’s intentions shifted one more time. 

Your own attraction mirrored hers. Your eyes focused back to her lips.

Sudden shyness prickled at the back of your neck. It could only be Natasha’s.

You froze.

Natasha’s jaw clenched as she caught your reaction. 

You realised how exposed you must make her feel.

Natasha’s eyes darted away again for a split second. Embarrassment filled you.

You followed her gaze and caught sight of the snow falling outside. 

Your shoulders loosened. You’d spent a whole year stepping out of your comfort zone. You knew how to be brave now. You knew because of Natasha.

You gently interlaced your fingers with Natasha’s again and gave a soft squeeze. You took a step back toward the staircase.

‘Come on.’ You said. ‘I want you to see the snow.’

Natasha followed you readily up the stairs to the landing with the large window. 

You looked over the city together, your shoulders touching. Neither of you spoke.

Natasha’s breath started to fog up the window pane. 

You turned to face her slowly. Natasha’s cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wide and she looked younger.

Hesitation gave way to anticipation. 

Your hand touched her waist.

She was gentler than you expected when she pressed her lips against yours. 

You felt her happiness like it was your own.

[linkbetweenlinksau]

I wanted to do a scar chart for my boys, not only to know where scars are, but also to figure out body types! I struggle a lot with unique body types so this is a challenge, but that’s fine! Challenges are good.

With Sky, I wanted him to have a more softer but strong look to him. He’s very strong in the game, so his arms are pretty toned. But he has some tummy cuz he just doesn’t care about looking toned or anything. He does what he wants. He has a lot of various scars here and there, but the biggest one is from his battle with demise.

Minish is a blacksmith and is very strong with his arms and chest. He’s short but he’s very toned. A lot of his major scars come from Vaati.

Time is the strongest on the team. He’s tall, he’s buff, he’s done farm and ranch work for the past 10 years, he’s terrifying. Idk what happened to his head but pls ignore how small it is. The sketch made his head really big so I shrunk it so he’d still look tall and now he looks ridiculous 😔 [EDIT: I can’t take it anymore. I had to change his head size. It looks normal now] he doesn’t have a lot of scars from his actual adventures. His body traveled back in time but his mind stayed in place, so a lot of injuries that would scar didn’t. The only scars he has is from his final battle with Majora. All other scars are from his time at lon lon and other scars he got as a kid. Also I gave him my issue with super itchy legs. I have them scars myself UwU

Legend has powerful legs, so they’re much stronger than the rest of his body, but he’s well toned thanks to his sword fighting abilities. I… haven’t played or am familiar with his games save for la so his scars are kinda lame, but let’s just say that he did a good job at keeping big scars from scarring. (This is a half joke but he has a burn scar from Aganhim on his butt. For obvious reasons you can’t see it)

Totem has very strong shoulders and arms thanks for all the totem times he did. So he has a strong upper body. He should probably work on leg day tho. He has two injuries from accidents regarding totem time (falling on his face while being the guy on top and having someone’s boots scuff his shoulder) but he’s a totem master now!

Rift only has rift-shaped markings on his body, and he’s a very lanky kid. He’s a bit toned in his arms and chest thanks to sword fighting but that’s about it. He doesn’t focus that much on his body anyways.

Hyrule is a very small and skinny kid, with some muscle showing on his arms thanks to swords fighting. But generally he’s small, which is good for him cuz that makes hiding easier. A lot of scars from his first adventure.

[strawberryblue-blog]

Beg for you —Hector Fort.

summary: You and your friends go to a college party where there is a man who flirts with you but you don't want anything to do with him (or maybe yes)

warnings: Yes. +18. smut, sexual tension, argument, enemies to lovers, college romance.

words count: +2.1k.

#SEXYNOTE: Merry Christmas (late) to my readers. I wanted to thank you all for your support. I love you all so much 💙🦋

The evening breeze hit your body as your friends laughed at a gossip told by one of them, you had been talking, dancing and having fun for several hours. The bottle in your hand kept emptying as the hours passed and you began to feel like going home.

You had a big exam tomorrow and you had only come because your friends had asked you to but you were supposed to be studying. You weren't a prude either, you liked to go out to parties and enjoy yourself with your friends but tomorrow was a big commitment and you couldn't miss the most important exams of your first year.

"Someone has a hot admirer" squealed your friend towards you, pointing to the group of boys behind you.

As soon as you turn a little, you see the boy in a round with his friends while his gaze is paid on you. Shameless. Looking at you like he wants something. Something you won't give him. He smiles flirtatiously and raises his glass to you, as if he's toasting you.

In return, you raise your hand and flash your middle finger right in his face.

"More of a stalker than an admirer, I'd say" you mutter rolling your eyes, turning back to them. Your friends laugh.

Since you had arrived, the boy had been staring at you and you were already starting to feel uncomfortable. You didn't want to be here but it was the first time you had been invited to a senior party and your friends had used your stalker to come.

It was a party in the backyard of the football team's fraternity house and he was the football team's captain. Hector Fort. Star player and leader of the college football team. A walking cliché who you don't want to get involved with.

"Come on, Y/n" says another amused one. "He's just a man, one who's interested in you!" she complains and the others agree.

"Following me around after class, inviting you guys over to blackmail me, texting me without my consent? I don't think so" you reply, listing situations.

Hector has been interested (or so they say) in you. After hitting you in the head with the ball in gym class, he had tried to approach you but you wanted nothing to do with him.

"Just play along a little longer, so we'll get invited to parties and we can hang out with cute and famous guys" your friend asks pouting.

"You can have it if you want, I'll pass" you say finishing your bottle.

No way. You're not attracted to him at all, not even with that tough guy look. He would never be interested in someone like you nor would you be interested in someone like him. You're just not compatible. It's probably some bet with his friends like the typical ones they make every time with a new girl. You won't spend your first year of college with a broken heart or being the mockery of the entire college.

"Did you hear that Karen slept with the History teacher?" one of them asked changing the subject and you obliged as they started whispering about it.

"I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back" you comment as they continue to tell the gossip. They nod and wander off into the crowd.

It's not hard to find the bathroom, since you know the place. It's not the first party you've been to here, but like all parties, you have to wait at the door for the bathroom. When finally the young man who was inside manages to get out, between stumbling and complaining, you enter the bathroom. Inside, you do your business and wash your hands.

A knock on the door makes you sigh. You've only had a minute of peace.

"Busy" you squeak and go about your business.

You can barely hear the music and you splash your face with water as you feel a slight dizziness. Damn. You shouldn't have drunk, you'll have a headache tomorrow. But you were a little stressed and finished the first bottle in one gulp when your friend gave it to you.

Again, the door rang again. But you didn't say anything. That it would hold, it was only a second and you hadn't been in for long.

"Busy!" you yell again as you feel the door ring again and someone opens it.

Just as you want to interject your body to stop it, a manly figure enters the bathroom with you and closes the door behind him, locking it with the latch. Shit. You hadn't done it, the door was open as if you had planned it. Your eyes see the boy leaning against the door with his hand on the doorknob.

"What are you doing?" you ask confused, you try to grab the doorknob but he gets in the way.

Your air starts to go short and you become defensive, especially as a shiver runs down your spine. It's dangerous to be around people like him, more so at a party, drunk, stoned and crazy.

"Let me out" you ask in fear. "Or I'll scream" you swallow saliva.

Hector smiles sideways, playing innocent.

"You're even cuter with red cheeks" he mutters molly, trying to generate something in you, which is nausea.

It's an involuntary act. Your cheeks turn red from the alcohol, of course. You lower your face somewhat embarrassed but remember that he won't generate anything in you. You raise your brow high again and look at him.

"I'm going to scream if you don't move" you insist crossing your hands across your chest, looking to protect yourself. "Let me go."

Although you don't feel safe, you don't feel insecure either. But you can't trust him, he's a man, an enlarged and predatory one and you don't know him at all.

"Does playing hard to get work for you?" he asks with a smirk still leaning against the door with his body relaxed, as if he enjoys this.

You bite your tongue beginning to rage. Suddenly you feel warmth in your body, as if you are suffocating. Even your teeth screech from talking back to him.

"Does playing an idiot work for you?" you lash out at once. He laughs.

"What do you want? I have to go right away" you say raising an eyebrow.

Hector bites his lip and takes a step towards you, which leaves you motionless for a few seconds but then you also take a step backwards away from him. You get defensive, not letting him make another move.

"Talk to you" he mutters taking another step. "Or maybe... not talk" he licks his lip again and you grimace.

"I have nothing to talk to you. We have nothing in common to talk about. I've already told you that, Hector" you reply exhausted.

All the times he had tried to get close to you, you hadn't let him. He used to look for you after school, when he had lunch with the girls, while you were running around in gym class, he had even gone to your room but you never answered him. He could keep insisting that you weren't going to give him what he wanted.

"Says you" he takes another step towards you and you take another step back.

Even though there is still distance between you, you begin to feel your stomach churn. He's only a foot away from you and you fear he's getting closer. The atmosphere is tense, desperate and suffocating. It was obvious that your primary interest was to get out of here, but you were certain that Hector was not going to make it easy for you.

You take a careful breath, without even moving, you don't want him to notice that for some reason you are starting to get nervous. His closeness is dangerous, everything about him is.

"We could have a lot of things in common if you wanted" he smiles sideways as he takes another step.

And you try to take another. But you don't really take it, because the space between you and the sink is gone. Your body slams against the marble countertop behind you and you are pinned between it and Hector.

You swallow as the distance between you is minimal, you can almost feel his body brush against yours. Your startled eyes watch his smug eyes, his sideways smile as if he is flirting with you and his poker face. A small bead of sweat begins to descend on the back of your neck and you swear you've never been so tense and nervous as you are right now. You have no escape.

"As I said there's nothing you and I could have in common" you mutter harshly.

Playing hard to get (even though you don't really do it) was always easy for you. You didn't come to college to flirt with football players or men in general, you're not a saint either but you don't need to get involved with people like him to feel better or more valued. College jocks are a cliché like the typical American movies, they are handsome, applied, talented and kind, they can have any girl at their feet. Sleeping with them is a privilege and if they choose you and you can't refuse. Who the fuck imposed that rule? You are free to choose who you want and not want too.

"If you want I can prove it to you" he raises his perfectly delineated eyebrow.

One of his hands takes a lock of your long hair and begins to play with it, crossing it through his fingers as his gaze drifts to your mouth and back to your eyes. Your heart is pounding and even though you want to run, you just stand there.

You look at him with a 'surprise me' face waiting for his demonstration as you roll your eyes. He cocks his head slightly, smiling before he moves completely closer to you.

His hands hold your hips and then circle your ass, lifting himself off the floor ignoring your complaint. He sits you down on the wash counter and positions himself between your spread legs, hugging your waist as his lips impact against yours.

For a second you are in complete shock, your hands refuse to touch him and your lips don't move. But he kisses you regardless. You want to push him away and hit him, to scream that he's taking advantage of you but you can't do any of that. Because your hands wrap around his neck and you kiss him back. Hard and passionate.

His torso melts between your body and you kiss like there's no tomorrow. Your hands caress his curls and his hands roam down your back and waist, caressing you. His tongue takes over your mouth and leads you into a wet, sensual, needy kiss. You're so deep inside yourself, you can't think straight. You can't even think at all.

He pulls away a little to let you breathe, your mouths red and wet, he smiles and you want to smack him across the face to wipe it away. But more so, you want to kiss him. You move to his mouth to kiss him and Hector runs his face, preventing you. Your shaky breaths mingle and you hear him laugh. Is he making fun of you? Is this a joke? After having followed you for weeks?

"If you want to, you have to ask me nicely" he whispers brushing your lips.

You deny, rolling your eyes. "I won't beg for you" you spit.

Your hands still hold his face and Hector's hands squeeze your waist, urging you on. But you wouldn't beg for him. You never would.

Relax his lips and you feel hungry. Hungry to be the one to lick them. Damn. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your whole body is on fire. You feel every muscle in your body tighten with every passing second. The sexual tension between you is so obvious that it embarrasses you.

Feeling attraction for Hector embarrasses you.

"Fuck, Y/n, kiss me" he asks even more moving his face closer to yours but not touching you.

He wants to kiss you but he won't. He wants you to. And neither will you.

"Kiss me" he whispers again, his eyes are pure fire and his husky voice makes your hair stand on end.

You smile a little at how desperate he is, his body sticks closer to yours and you know he won't delay any longer. He can't. Not with you provoking him. Your legs wrap around his waist and you squeeze him, gasping when your bodies brush, you grab him by the collar of his shirt but don't move closer. He watches you. He sees you. He admires you. And that makes you feel good.

"You really want to have me at your feet, don't you?" he questions as his hands roam over your chest.

You gasp as his finger trails down the hollow of your breasts, teasing you. This is a game. So you're going to play. You relax your lips as you move a little and feel his bulge against your body, he grunts and in return squeeze one of your tits. Dirty and dangerous. You moan feeling the wetness between your legs.

Your hands move down his back and you grab his ass, squeezing it tightly to start rubbing against him. You both moan looking straight into each other's eyes. But you still do nothing. His face brushes against yours again, millimeters away, almost all of yours.

The heat is suffocating, the tension is too much. You feel like you're on fire, literally. But you won't be the one to give way. Not against him.

"Will you really make me beg for you?" he says the opposite way you said it.

It sounds desperate, needy. But you are too, you just can take it longer.

"Please..." is heard in the room.

It sounds like a plea. And it's not yours. It's Hector's.

He just begged you. He really did.

A small smile forms on your lips as your hands run up his taut back. He asked for it, he'll have it.

And you kiss him wildly again. His hands never stop molding your tits while your bodies rub together with need. Everything about you screams fire. The two lost in temptation, kissing, touching each other.

Everything in your head was a sign, You kept thinking that being here was a mistake. Kissing Hector was a mistake. But you couldn't stop doing it. You had promised that you wouldn't sleep with him, that you wouldn't even speak to him, but this was the complete opposite.

Maybe the attention he'd been putting on you had made you feel something different these days and maybe this was nothing more than simple attraction. You prayed it just was. Because it definitely you weren't going to look at him again after this. Fucking in a party bathroom? This was going to be fucking news.

You should never have listened to your friends when they said to play along, this was too much. His hands peeled off your pants and he didn't even take enough time to appreciate you, you didn't even care. It was just sex. When you were naked enough for him to enter you, he did so without even moving his clothes. It was obvious that they were both desperate. The tension was too much in your bodies, you needed to release it one way or another.

It wasn't a myth. Hector was huge. His cock barely fit in your center, making you writhe in pleasure as your hands held onto the counter. Your body was leaning against the mirror as Hector penetrated you again and again, erratic and wild. Her moans were loud, you were sure that if someone was outside they could hear you and it was damn embarrassing.

But you couldn't care less, you wanted to feel something that would take you out of your head tonight and Hector was definitely making you feel something. For a moment there were no worries in your head, no exams, no prejudices, there was nothing. Just him fucking you like an animal. Your mouths joined and panting, trying to withstand his blows while pleasure invaded you.

The way he was touching you, his fingers wrapped around your breasts as his onslaught kept pounding your center. He was eager. So were you.

Hector knew exactly how to please a woman, you were witnessing it and even you couldn't believe it. Damn it. Tomorrow there would be so much gossip about you but you didn't care. You wanted him to fuck you so hard, you wanted this tension to end.

You were afraid the washboard would break under you because of how hard he was fucking you, your body slamming against the mirror as his back arched. You tried to hold him tight so he wouldn't hip you, he was wild. His lips kissed your neck, your shoulders, he bit your skin, your lips. Your nails scratched his skin, leaving the marks impacted like a struggle.

The waves of pleasure were beginning to make your vision blurred and you couldn't even think, you were clouded in his presence. Hector was grunting and your moans were sure to be heard on the other side but the music was too loud, you didn't care. If anyone else wanted the bathroom? Fuck them.

You weren't going to leave this moment right now. You couldn't leave Hector. For tonight, you were his. And he was yours. That was all that mattered.