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janeyseymour · 2 days ago

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Damsel in Distress

summary: every once in a while you need rescuing. melissa is usually there.

WC: ~2.4k

It’s a well known fact that Melissa Schemmenti is not the warmest and fuzziest soul that walks the Abbott halls- by both students and teachers alike. Of course, there were always people that she felt comfortable letting her guard down around, and each and every student would venture to say that while the redhead was quite the opposite of her counterpart, Janine Teagues, Melissa Schemmenti was fiercely loving and protective when push came to shove.

So when you start your career as a first grade teacher opposite Gregory Eddie, you’re warned right away of the rough and tough teacher.

“Melissa… she’s my girlfriend’s grade level partner,” Gregory informs you during the staff meeting that morning. “And she’s going to try to push you around. Don’t let her tough Philly streets kind of personality turn you off from her- she’s got a good heart.”

Your gaze follows his finger, where he’s pointing to his friends as they walk in. And because he’s in with them, they come and take a seat with you.

“Who’s the newbie?” Melissa immediately questions as she rolls her eyes. Oh, wow- her eyes sparkle despite the fact that she looks less than enthused to be here. “And how long is she going to be here before she runs outta here like everyone else?”

“Melissa,” Barbara, the kindergarten teacher Gregory had told you about, scolds as she gently smacks the redhead’s perfectly manicured nails. “Be nice. We need all the help we can get around here.”

“Y/N,” you smile charmingly. “And hopefully a long time.”

“What makes you say that?” the second grade teacher challenges as she sits across from you.

You shrug. “I grew up around here. I know how it goes.”

“You? You grew up around here?” Melissa challenges as she gets a look at your appearance. You’re dressed quite nicely. “How’d you make it out and do this well for yourself and then fall back to teaching?”

“I’ve actually been teaching for a few years,” you hum out. “Still live in South.”

“You from South?” You just nod before turning your attention to the meeting that seems to be beginning.

When you told the redhead that you were planning on staying at Abbott for a long time, you meant it. Working in a district and a school like this is where you’ve always done your best work. You’ve been around. Working in the suburbs of Philadelphia is an entirely different job. You’ve worked with rich kids, who you honestly had a hard time connecting with. You’ve worked with middle class kids who were somewhat grateful for the work that you did, but there was still an aura of entitlement that you just did not appreciate in the slightest. You’ve worked in districts similar to the greater Philadelphia area. But when push comes to shove, your heart belongs to the city of brotherly love, and you pounced at the opportunity to come back to the city.

In the time that you’ve been at Abbott, you’ve been able to do wonders for your students. Yes, Jacob and Janine bring wonderful new ideas to the somewhat stuck in the past school, but there’s something about you that just… makes it all work. The other difference between you and the other two younger teachers? You’re a bit more… realistic- jaded. You, unlike the other younger teachers- your grade level partner included, understand that some things simply don’t go according to plan. And when plans don’t pan out the way you quite hope or expect them to, you simply adapt with grace and elegance that doesn’t get past Barbara or Melissa. Even Ava, the principal who is known for her lack of attention, picks up on the fact that there’s something special about your teaching.

And when Melissa Schemmenti realizes that you genuinely were planning on sticking around for a while and saw your work, she was on your side wholeheartedly.

While you’ve done amazing things for your students and been praised up and down by the district, there are still a few teachers who have somewhat of a gripe with you, claiming that you’re changing too much all at once for them to keep up with you. They state that you’re bringing in new methods that simply won’t work for their students- because why would you fix what isn’t broken?

And that’s exactly what you’re speaking about during your share out time at the staff meeting today. You have quite a few visual learners in your class, as well as students who learn through experience.

“So, as Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences goes,” you say from your spot. “Everybody has different strengths in how they they learn.”

Gregory smiles. He had taught Janine physics in that way- that everyone plays to a different strength when it comes to learning and picking up new skills.

“And I have quite a few visual learners, so as opposed to just lecturing, I’ve found that connecting it to real world situations that my first graders will understand and drawing it on the board will help. I’ve also come to realize that many of my students grasp ideas through the art of doing. So, for example, when we were learning about the phases of the moon, I found that a lot of my kiddos understood the cycle more clearly when we used an oreo to model it. In having a visual, auditory, and kinesthetic-”

“Now why are you trying to make us work harder?” one of the third grade teachers pipes up and interrupts you. “What I’ve been doing for a decade seems to still be working out for the most part.”

“Well,” you sigh as you bite your lip and glance to your group of friends. “The good thing about all of this is that most of us incorporate these different approaches without realizing it.”

“So then what’s the point of this share out, newbie?”

You go to respond when you feel a hand on your shoulder, and it isn’t Gregory’s or Jacob’s like you would expect. It’s not even Barbara. No, it’s Melissa.

“Why don’t you let her talk, Delores?” the gruff voice practically barks. “Just because we can sometimes inadvertently use these tactics doesn’t mean it’s not something we should draw attention to and try to do more consciously.”

“All I’m sayin is-”

“I don’t care what you’re saying,” Melissa growls. “Her lessons are a hell of a lot more effective than your boring ass lecturing, and maybe some of us would like to take a note or two about how we can improve our teaching.”

“Why are we trying to change the way we-”

“Did you ever realize that teaching is an ever-changing profession?” the redhead spits out. “That how we were taught doesn’t work anymore because there are always new practices and approaches coming out? Or did the nuns beat the sense out of you when you misbehaved in school?”

“Melissa,” you whisper and nudge her gently.

Green eyes turn to you. “Keep talkin’.”

Nobody dares to cross you again when it comes to your share outs during staff meetings again.

It’s later at lunch that you approach the topic of what happened in the library earlier today.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” you smile at Melissa while your lunch is in the microwave. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothin’,” the second grade teacher tells you with a wave of the hand. “I’ve been wanting that ol’ bat to retire for ages now, and I think she might now that she’s realizing she can’t keep up with the way the education world is going.”

It’s a few weeks later when Melissa Schemmenti stands up for you again- on a matter that you really expected her to be opposed on.

This morning, you had woken up a bit late, so instead of your usual sandwich and salad for lunch, you’re stuck with a bag of chips, a handful of grape tomatoes, and a stick of string cheese.

And while you’re eating quietly, Janine is making a fuss over it.

“Melissa, get on her!” the shorter second grade teacher huffs. “She’s eating what I eat!”

The redhead glances over at your rather unconventional meal and sighs. “That’s your lunch?” You just nod, preparing yourself to be berated by Melissa. But she doesn’t. Instead, she simply shrugs and turns her attention back to her phone.

“Melissa!” Janine admonishes.

“What, pipsqueak? She usually has a decent lunch. We all have our days of going back to the basics.”

“This is ridiculous!”

You just chuckle when you see that Melissa is silently portioning her own meal and sliding you half of it.

Once again, you’re sitting in the library for a staff meeting where Ava has asked you to share out how you teach english language arts- a subject that your students are excelling in because of your unique approach to the sometimes difficult concepts. And once again, Delores is doing everything in her power to diminish your successes.

“Would you just shut up?” Melissa intervenes. “Ava asked her to speak out, and again, some of us aren’t old dogs like you who can’t learn new tricks.”

Your jaw practically drops at those biting words, but they do get your colleague to stop interjecting with criticism. Green eyes look to you again, and you have to hide the blush that wants to creep into your cheeks.

As luck would have it, after a rough staff meeting, your students are just not cooperating with you the way that you wish they would. You sigh softly as you lead them down to the lunch room before heading towards the faculty room for your own meal. It’s a Friday, which means that they’re already bouncing off the walls with the excitement for the weekend- but it’s also a long weekend, and you happen to know that Janiyah is having her birthday party that most of your students are attending. So they’re worse than they usually are on the last day of the school week.

You drop into your chair quietly, not yet reaching for your lunch bag. Instead, your fingers find their way to your temples, and you begin to rub them softly, hoping to alleviate some of the pain and discomfort.

“Rough day?” Melissa asks you quietly.

“Rough week,” you chuckle weakly. “After this morning, and then with the long weekend, my kids are giving me a run for my money today.”

“They’re menaces in my room today too,” the redhead tells you. “Sounds like you need a drink after work.”

You can’t help but feel inclined to agree. “Sure, why not?”

“Oscars, for happy hour?”

That’s how you end up at the local dive bar that your coworkers usually head to after a long week of work. Although this time, it’s oddly just the two of you. The rest of your friends already had plans. So, you’re sitting on one bar stool while your redheaded coworker is beside you, sipping your second margaritas.

“Damn,” you breathe out heavily. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Me too,” Melissa sighs out. “I can only take so much of Delores and her bullshit… I don’t know how you put up with all of her shit. I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t quite think I’ve earned it yet enough to even attempt to put her in her place,” you laugh as you take another swig of your drink.

“I don’t even care anymore,” your colleague shrugs with no remorse. “Barb’s always tellin’ me I should try being nicer, but I don’t see the point; if she’s going to be rude, why can’t I?”

“Some people think that you should be nicer,” you giggle out as your gaze lingers on her lips. “Not me though. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Maybe you should slow down the way that you’re drinking. You hadn’t meant for it to slip that you think she’s perfect.

Green eyes are rolled so hard you think they may get stuck. “You just say that because I always stick up for you.”

“And how nice is that?” You lean in and lay a gentle hand on her forearm, eyes once again flickering down to her full lips. “You’re perfect.”

“Am I?” the redhead chuckles as she finishes her second drink. She looks to you expectantly. Of course, you oblige her silent request and finish your own off despite the fact that you’ve thought about how you should slow down.

You’re able to get the bartender’s attention to order two more before turning back to Melissa. “I’d say you are. You’re- you’re funny, and smart, and sweet, and gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous?” A perfectly sculpted brow is lifted, a smirk apparent on the redhead’s face.

Your cheeks tint red. “I- I-”

“That’s quite the compliment coming from you,” the redhead says.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“Someone as beautiful as yourself telling me that I’m gorgeous? Now that’s quite the compliment.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” you stammer out.

“Of course I-” The bartender places down your drinks in front of you, and Melissa pauses to thank him before turning back to you. “Of course I do. Why do you think I defend you all the time?”

“Because you’re nice?”

“Because you’re gorgeous,” the redhead corrects you. “And sometimes it’s fun rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress!” you protest.

“So you’re tellin’ me you want me to stop rescuing you from Delores?” Melissa asks you with a frown.

“N- no,” you stutter out. “I- I like when you do that.”

“Can I rescue you from something else?” the redhead leans in closely.

“And what would that be?”

“I’ll save you from yourself,” Melissa smiles as her eyes lower to your lips. She kisses you softly. “You’ve been staring at my lips since we got here. How long was it going to take for you to kiss me?”

You bite your lip before pulling her in softly again. When you pull away, you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up out of you. “Thank you for saving me from myself… and from the others.”

“Always will,” the redhead laughs as she pulls you in again.

And Melissa makes good on her words. Once the two of you begin dating, her fierce protectiveness of you only shines more. And each time, once the two of you are in the comfort of your own home, she’ll tease you quietly.

“My damsel in distress,” she’ll chuckle softly before pulling you in.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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harrywavycurly · 2 days ago

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Worth The Fight: Smells Good

Masterlist: Here

CW: pregnancy stuff/symptoms mentioned

A/N: I felt like we needed a little bit of semi fluffiness between these two so hope y’all enjoy✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera

Summary: You have a new craving that leads to you being the one that texts Harry at one in the morning✨

Harry is nervous he hasn’t seen you in a week and now he’s sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Andrews’s office waiting for your appointment but there’s just one thing that’s missing, you. He knows better than to text you to ask where you’re at or if you’re going to be running late because according to what you’ve told him you don’t run late you just sometimes have to rush. He looks at the watch on his wrist and notices that there’s about ten minutes until your appointment time so he just reaches for the juice he got from a place near his house, trying not to think about the last time he was in this office. Thankfully the waiting room isn’t very crowded, he does notice a very pregnant woman sitting near the back of the room and he can’t help but want to smile when he watches her eyes close and her head rest on the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. As he takes another sip of his juice Harry finds himself wondering if he will ever get a moment like that with you, if you’ll ever see him as a someone that you feel comfortable enough with that resting your head on his shoulder or maybe even reaching for his hand when you just need to feel grounded would be acceptable.

“Oh thank god you’re still out here.” Harry nearly chokes on the juice in his mouth as you suddenly appear next to him, out of breath and of course with the strap to your giant unorganized purse draped over your shoulder. “I was afraid they might’ve already called you back there and I’d have to go knocking on doors to find you.” You explain as you practically fall into the empty seat next to him, all while he just stares at you with wide eyes and the straw to his juice in his mouth.

“Uh no-no they haven’t called for us yet.” He stutters after he swallows the sip he was in the middle of when you appeared out of thin air. You look at him with a quirked brow as he clears his throat. “I also don’t think they’d uhm make you knock on doors I think they’d just show you which room I was in.” He doesn’t say it as a way to correct you he says it more so to help calm your nerves, or at least that’s how he hopes it comes across because he really doesn’t want to start an argument with you five seconds after seeing you for the first time in a week.

“I smell apples.” You look around the room as the words leave your mouth, deciding to ignore Harry’s comment because you know he’s right but you don’t necessarily want to tell him that. Harry raises an eyebrow as he watches you hunt for the source of the smell. “And I think-oh is that pineapple? Do you smell that?” You ask as you look at him and he instantly looks down to the juice in his hands.

“Uh no I can’t smell that. But my juice-”

“Where did you get that?” Harry is taken aback by how quickly your words fall out of your mouth as you cut him off as your eyes become glued to the plastic cup in his hand.

“Oh uhm -”

“Styles?” Both you and Harry turn your heads towards the doorway a nurse is standing in with a smile on her face and a clipboard in her hands. “We’re ready for you.” She explains making Harry stand up and before he can think twice about it he’s offering you his free hand to help you up and while normally you’d make a small scene about not taking it you can’t be bothered because you’re still focusing on the juice in his other hand.

“Thank you.” You mumble once you’re up out of the chair and Harry just gives you a tight lipped smile as a response, still not fully convinced he’s not dreaming because this is only the third time you’ve allowed him to actually touch you since the night you two met.

“Dr. Andrews will be right in.” You just smile as the nurse shows the two of you to the exam room you’ll be in before closing the door. You rub your lips together as you place your bag in one of the chairs on the wall while Harry stands there not sure where he should sit, in the empty chair next to your bag or the chair next to the exam table where you’ll be at for the majority of the visit.

“I’m sorry by the way.” Your voice is soft and quiet as you take a step towards the exam table. Harry has to take a moment to think about all the possible reasons you could be apologizing to him but lucky for him you decide to explain yourself. “I shouldn’t have asked if you really wanted to be a dad because I know you do. I know you want to be in their lives and I’m sorry I upset you with that question it wasn’t-”

“You don’t have to apologize. You had every reason to ask me that and I’m sorry for how I handled it but you’re right.” He doesn’t have to look at you to know you have a small smile on your face at his admission of you being right, even if you don’t know what he’s admitting you’re right about you still just enjoy how the phrase sounds coming from him. “I do want to be their dad and be in their lives and that means I’ll be in yours as well.” You just nod as you try to get comfortable on the table and Harry can’t help the way his eyes travel from your face down to your bump that seems to be much more prominent today than it was the last time he saw you.

“That’s true. We are sort of stuck with each other.” You agree as Harry leans against the counter that has a little sink attached to it, your eyes automatically finding the plastic cup in his hand as he brings the straw up to his lips for a quick sip. “Did you make that?” Harry quirks a brow as he looks at you and then to the cup in his hand and then back at you and he swears he catches you licking your lips as you stare at the green liquid in his cup.

“The juice? No I got it from this little place near my-”

“It smells good.”

“Uh do you-you want to try it?”

“What’s in it?” You don’t know why you ask because he could say it’s made of dirt and salty lawn clippings and you’d still want to try it because the smell has your mouth watering, your appetite hasn’t been that great recently but something about the oddly colored juice in Harry’s hand has you suddenly craving something you’ve never had before.

“Green apples some spinach and some pineapple and I think-” You just begin nodding and reach a hand out in the middle of him listing what’s in the juice and without hesitation he hands you the cup making him chuckle when you instantly take a sip of it and let out a sigh and close your eyes as you take another sip.

“Is that cucumber?” Harry just nods as he runs a hand through his hair while you slowly swing your feet back and forth as they hang off the end of the exam table all while sucking down a few more sips of his juice and for a moment a comfortable silence takes over the room.

“I understand why you can’t forgive me yet for what I did.” You feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as Harry’s voice breaks the silence a few minutes later. “I know you don’t trust that I’ll stick around and I can’t say anything that will change how you feel so I just hope you’ll let me show you how much I really do want to be apart of this whole thing.” Harry is looking at his feet when you look over at him, knowing that if he said all that while looking at you he would probably be an emotional mess by the end of it and that’s not exactly what he wants while in an exam room waiting to see how his twins are doing.

“Thank-oh no.” Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of you making a soft huff but before he can ask what’s wrong you’re holding the now empty cup in your hands and looking at it with a pout. “I drank it all.” Your voice cracks a bit as you look at the empty cup and he feels his chest tighten as your eyes get glossy and your bottom lip starts to tremble and for a moment Harry refuses to believe you’re actually getting this upset over finishing off his juice. But then he realizes as you take the lid off and tip the cup back so you can try to get the last few drops at the bottom you’re not upset over the fact it was his, you’re just upset that it’s gone.

“It’s okay.” He tries his best to sound reassuring but he is also a tiny bit worried he’s just going to upset you as he takes a few steps towards you so he can grab the empty cup from out of your hands. “I’m glad you liked it.” You watch with sad eyes as he tosses the cup and lid into the trash.

“I’m so going to need more-” You turn your head as a knock interrupts you mid sentence, Harry quickly takes the sear near the exam table just as the door opens.

“Hello!” You smile as Dr. Andrews walks into the room with his clipboard in his hands and a bright smile on his face. “Mr. Styles it’s great to see you again how have you been?” Harry just offers him a casual shrug making the him laugh.

“I’ve been okay uh how about yourself?” You have to bite your lip to stop the giggles from escaping as you watch and listen to Harry struggle with small talk with the man that will eventually be delivering your twins.

“Oh I’ve been great now let’s ask the woman in charge how she’s doing huh? How’s the appetite and nausea? Better or the same since last week?” Harry’s eyes narrow as Dr. Andrews places his clipboard on the counter before turning and looking at you.

“Actually my appetite has come back a little bit and so far this week no nausea.” You answer as you feel Harry’s eyes glaring at you, so you just turn your head to look at him because you want to attempt to involve him in things but before you can open your mouth to explain yourself he is looking at Dr. Andrews and asking for himself.

“Last week? Did something happen? She didn’t have a scheduled appointment for last week.” You can tell he’s trying to hide his concern as he asks the doctor who is walking towards you so he can sit in the round wheeled stool that’s near the end of the table where your legs are hanging off.

“Nothing to worry about just some nausea that was making it a little hard to keep things down so she came in for a quick check up.” Dr. Andrews gives him a quick explanation making Harry just nod as he watches him look at you with a reassuring smile. “So it looks like you’ve lost a little weight since your last appointment but again that’s normal and since your appetite is coming back I’m not too concerned about it. Now is there anything new I should know about? Any pain or discomfort?” Harry’s attention moves from the doctor to you as you place your hands in your lap and mess with the ring you have on your index finger.

“I feel like my ankles are already starting to swell is that normal?”

“Yes that’s normal you can expect swelling in your feet and hands as well as some around your belly. Any breast tenderness or leg cramps?”

“Leg cramps sometimes but mainly when I’m laying down at the end of the day and uhm no-no breast tenderness.” You feel silly for being a little embarrassed at talking about if your breasts are tender or not while Harry is sitting in a chair next to you, but you can’t help it and when you subtly glance over at him and see his cheeks are slightly flushed you know he feels a bit awkward as well.

“I can give you some tips for how to help with the leg cramps but what about the fatigue? Is it the same or have you gotten some energy back?”

“I’ve gotten a little energy back.” Dr. Andrews gives you a little smile at this bit of information as he wheels himself around the table so he can grab some gloves and for some reason that makes you remember your last scheduled exam that Harry left in the middle of making him miss something important. “Uhm I was wondering if we could listen to the heartbeats today?”

“Of course yes we are going to check their heartbeats and do some bloodwork and we will check to see how they are doing with an ultrasound so you’ll get to see them today while we look over a few things but we will discuss all of that when we get to it.” Harry is just nervously chewing on his bottom lip as Dr. Andrews discusses everything that will happen during today’s appointment.

You scoot further back on the table and try to get comfortable as Dr. Andrews gets everything ready so the two of you can hear the twins heartbeats. Harry runs a hand through his hair and adjusts how he’s sitting in the chair, trying his best to cover up his anxiousness but clearly not doing a good job because just as you get comfortable and roll your shirt up so the doctor can use his Doppler monitor you look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

“You okay?” You whisper making Dr. Andrews lightly chuckle as he turns the machine on and wheels himself over to you on the opposite side of the exam table that Harry is sat on.

“Oh yeah-yeah I’m fine.” He knows that you know he’s lying but neither of you can say anything else because soon the room is full of a static like sound making Harry turn and look at the little device in the doctor’s hands that is pressed against your bump.

Then the static turned into the soft but steady sound of what you would describe as similar to a horse galloping down a street, letting you know Dr. Andrews had found a heartbeat making you feel a lump of emotions form in your throat. When you look over at Harry you can tell he is struggling to keep his emotions in check as his eyes go a bit glossy and his lips are rubbing together and you have to remind yourself that this is his first time hearing this sound.

So you do something for him that you wish someone was there to do for you when you first heard it, you reach your arm out and open your hand for him to take and without a word Harry grabs your hand slipping his fingers between the gaps of yours letting you give his hand a comforting squeeze. You smile as Harry returns your gesture with a soft squeeze of your hand while the two of you sit there and listen to your babies’ heartbeats. And for a moment you don’t feel like two people who oftentimes can barely hold a conversation without it turning into an argument, you almost feel like a normal couple.

You let out a groan as you lay in bed with Paris curled up in a peaceful ball near your feet. It’s been two days since your appointment, and it’s been two days that you’ve been craving the green juice Harry ended up letting you have before the exam started. While you’re used to having cravings, such as the jam and toast that you still have for breakfast most mornings but normally you can satiate your cravings rather quickly but this time you can’t because Harry never got to tell you where he got the juice or even finish telling you what was in it. But the main issue about the juice you’re craving so badly that your mouth is watering and you almost feel as if you could cry because it’s all you can think about, is that your fridge is pretty much empty minus some raspberry jam and milk.

“I could just find the place he got it from.” You mumble to yourself as you sit up and turn your bedside lamp on before you reach for your phone that’s plugged into the charger on your nightstand. “He said he got it from a place near his house.” You hold your phone in your hands and let out a huff as you just stare at the screen. “Which would be fine if I knew where he lived.” You bite your lip and debate on if you should text him and just ask him for the juice place seeing as he knows you liked it you asking him about it wouldn’t seem so odd.

“One text won’t be too bad.”

Harry has to laugh at the situation he’s found himself in as the elevator door opens to reveal your floor number because for once he’s not showing up here completely uninvited. While you didn’t exactly tell him not to come you also didn’t tell him it was okay for him to come over, but he can’t just let you suffer with not being able satiate your craving when he has all the ingredients to make it. So as he walks down your hallway he adjusts the bag on his shoulder that has all the produce in it and silently hopes you’re still awake so he’s not disturbing you when he knocks on your door.

“Harry?” Your voice is full of surprise as you open the door and see him standing there in a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag over his shoulder. “What-what are you doing here?” You ask even though you know he said he’d be there in ten you didn’t actually expect him to show up at your door, he just slides the bag off his shoulder so he can reach out and hand it to you.

“It has all the things you need for your uhm juice.” He watches the way your face lights up as you take the bag from him and look inside of it. “You have a blender and a strainer right?” He asks to confirm that you’ll even be able to make the juice and when you just nod he smiles as he brings a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck.

“So I just put all this in the blender and strain it and that’s it?”

“Uh well you have to add water and cut the fruit up.”

“Okay how much water?”

“Have you ever made a smoothie or anything before?” He asks and when you shake your head no he lets out a sigh as he contemplates just taking the bag from you and making it himself but before he can even suggest it you’re biting your bottom lip and staring at him.

“Do you think or uh would you mind maybe-”

“I can make it for you.” He answers before you can even finish asking your question. The two of you stand there for a few moments just staring at each other before you finally move to the side leaving enough room for him to walk through the door.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks before taking a step because he knows recently you haven’t wanted him to be inside your apartment, preferring him to just stay in the hallway.

“Oh uhm yeah it’s fine.” You answer and truthfully you don’t know if it’s just your overwhelming desire to finally get what you’ve been craving for the last two days or if you really don’t mind that Harry enters your apartment. Harry just nods as he takes the bag from your hands before taking a few steps into your apartment and heading towards the kitchen, he looks around as he crosses your living room and raises a brow as he notices the absence of a certain orange fur ball with a bell on his collar.

“Where’s-”

“Paris is asleep on my bed don’t worry.” You say with a laugh as you follow Harry into the kitchen. He sets the bag on your counter as you go for the cabinet you keep your blender in. Once you have it plugged in you just take a seat at your little table and watch as Harry stumbles his way around your kitchen at one in the morning just to make you a juice that you’ve been craving.

As you sit there while he begins to cut up the fruit from the bag you find yourself wondering if this is something you should get used to or if this is just a one time fluke and the two of you are just having a decent week. When he starts to hum to himself you place a hand on your bump giving it a soothing rub and when he looks over at you with a soft smile you decide that it doesn’t matter if this is a one time thing or the beginning of your new normal. You’ll take it because having Harry in your apartment isn’t that bad especially when it ends with him handing you a glass full of the green liquid you’ve been dreaming about for the last two days.

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echo-riot · 3 days ago

Text

Random dating thoughts (that slowly get more heated)

Abby Anderson Edition

Abby would insist on being your gym buddy and make a big deal about spotting you, even if you’re lifting the lightest weights. “Babe, safety first!” Meanwhile, she’s bench-pressing twice your body weight with ease.

She eats like she’s fueling a tank, so if you order fries, you better guard them with your life. But if you pout, she’ll reluctantly push her plate toward you. “Fine, take some… just not the chicken.”

She casually challenges you to arm-wrestling matches, and even if you lose every time, she makes a point of flexing and teasing: “Don’t feel bad—these guns are a gift, really.”

Abby has mastered the art of braiding hair thanks to her own routine, but she’s shockingly bad at braiding your hair because she gets nervous about pulling too hard. “How do you not sit still for this?!”

When she’s into you, her flirting style is a mix of being overly cocky and downright awkward. “I could totally carry you on my shoulders and outrun a horde. Wanna test it out?”

Abby has a fierce protective instinct. She’s the type to walk you home even if the world’s relatively safe, and she’ll always scan your surroundings for anything suspicious.

While she’s tough and stoic most of the time, Abby opens up about her past with you in small, vulnerable moments—usually when she feels safe in your arms.

Her love language would absolutely include acts of service. Whether it’s repairing your gear or making sure you have enough to eat, Abby shows her love by ensuring your needs are met.

She’d establish a small tradition, like watching the sunrise together after her early morning workouts, with you groggily sipping coffee while she teases you about “needing more gains.”

She’d lean on you during tough times but struggle to admit when she needs help. You’d have to gently remind her that being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything alone.

Once Abby Finds Out You Can’t Open Jars It’s over. She teases you constantly. She’ll swoop in with a dramatic, “Don’t worry, I got this,” flex her biceps unnecessarily, and pop it open in one try—every single time.

You Snore? She records it. Every time. Then uses it as leverage when you tease her about her overly serious workout routines. “You think I’m dramatic? Babe, listen to this masterpiece.”

You’d think she’d be bad at cooking, but she’s weirdly good. However, she only knows how to make portions that could feed a military base. “You said you were hungry. This is a reasonable amount of spaghetti.” (It’s not.)

Abby Learns About TikTok? She doesn’t really get it but becomes obsessed with the fitness trends. Suddenly, she’s asking you to record her doing ridiculous challenges, like trying to do pushups with you sitting on her back. (An:IM HAVING WHITHDRAWLS)

Abby is confident on the battlefield, but when it comes to dating, she can get a bit awkward. She stumbles over her words, especially if she’s nervous about impressing you.

Abby shows her affection by doing things for you, like fixing something you need or sharing her limited rations. She’s the type to ensure your boots are patched and your weapon is ready.

She loves teasing you, especially once she gets more comfortable. Whether it’s poking fun at your bad aim or how much you complain about patrols, it’s always lighthearted and affectionate.

Abby gives the best hugs—firm, warm, and grounding. She holds you tightly as if to shield you from the world.

While she’s strong and intimidating to others, she’s incredibly gentle with you. She’ll brush your hair out of your face, kiss your forehead, and hold your hand when you’re anxious.

Abby is always looking for small items that might make you happy—whether it’s a flower she finds, a worn-out book, or something she crafts herself.

In rare quiet moments, she’ll grab your hand and sway with you to the faint sound of music from an old record player or her own humming.

Her apologies are sincere and often accompanied by small actions to make it up to you, like offering to take over your duties for the day.

Once Abby falls for you, she’s all in. She’s fiercely loyal and will do anything to ensure your happiness and safety.

Though she struggles to express her feelings at first, over time she becomes more vocal about how much you mean to her. “You’re the reason I keep fighting” is something you’d hear her say during particularly tough days.

Abby doesn’t say “I love you” often, but when she does, it’s raw, heartfelt, and utterly sincere. She prefers to show her love in the little things—like keeping your favorite item safe or holding your hand just a little tighter in dangerous moments.

She watches you when you’re not looking, memorizing every little thing about you. If you catch her, she’ll smirk but won’t admit to it.

Abby tends to fidget around you—twisting a knife in her hand or adjusting her gear—especially when she’s nervous or unsure how to express her feelings.

Abby hates unresolved tension and prefers to address issues head-on, though her bluntness can sometimes make things worse.

She ensures you’re always safe in their post-apocalyptic world. Abby checks your surroundings meticulously, insists on teaching you self-defense, and would sacrifice everything to protect you.

Abby is the kind of partner who will always have your back, whether it’s a dangerous encounter or someone making a rude comment. She doesn’t tolerate disrespect towards you.

Watching her play fetch with a dog like Alice is a sight to behold. If you join in, she’ll grin from ear to ear, clearly smitten with the simple joy of the moment.

She brushes strands of hair out of your face or gently holds your chin to make you look at her when she wants your full attention.

Abby is attentive to your needs. If you’re upset, she won’t always have the right words, but she’ll stay by your side, offering silent comfort or a grounding hand on your shoulder.

Abby’s kisses are slow, purposeful, and full of intensity. At first, she’s gentle, her lips tenderly exploring yours as though she’s savoring the moment. But as the kiss deepens, her confidence takes over, and she becomes more demanding, pressing you against her with a firm grip on your waist.

She’s a fan of long, passionate kisses, often wanting to take her time to feel the connection. However, when she’s feeling playful or needy, she can turn it into something heated quickly.

Abby loves kissing you on your forehead, especially when she’s feeling particularly affectionate or protective. It’s her way of showing she cares without saying it

Your loyalty is something she treasures deeply, as she finds it hard to trust others, but with you, she feels safe to let her guard down.

Abby’s drawn to how you challenge her, whether it’s in casual conversations or in moments of intimacy, always keeping her on her toes and making her think.

She adores the way you show affection, especially when you offer small, tender gestures that demonstrate your care for her, like tracing her scars or offering her a quiet moment to breathe.

Abby’s not shy about leaving marks, especially when she’s feeling possessive or protective. She loves to mark you as hers, a reminder to anyone else that you belong to her.

She can be a little rough with you when she’s particularly heated, biting or sucking on your skin with a sense of urgency. She might even pause to admire the hickeys afterward, a slight smirk on her face as she watches you squirm from the heat (If you’ve been together for a while, Abby might leave little marks in places only the two of you know about, as a private symbol of her affection and control.)

Abby’s dirty talk is rough, no holds barred, and calculated. She’s all about taking control and making you beg for it, and she doesn’t hold back from calling you names or pushing your buttons in all the right ways.

Abby doesn’t give up control easily. She’s a hard dom, and she expects you to follow her lead. It turns her on to see you submit to her

she loves spanking you. It could start slow, just a teasing tap, but it escalates quickly as she sees how much it turns you on. She’ll mark you up, and the sting from the slap on your ass stays with you long after she’s done.

While missionary can feel intimate, Abby likes to switch things up by pinning your wrists above your head and giving you no escape. It’s a perfect position for eye contact, and she enjoys how much control it gives her over your pleasure.

Abby gets off on lifting you, pinning you up against a wall or any available surface. The feeling of holding you up while taking you hard and fast turns her on

Abby isn’t gentle when she uses a strap-on. She goes all in, thrusting deeply, making you take all of it, all while commanding you to take her. She’ll order you to stay still, make you beg, and won’t let you move until she tells you to.

She loves watching you as she fucks you with the strap-on. Seeing your face contort with pleasure, the way you squirm beneath her, and hearing the moans and gasps you can’t hold back only heightens her desire. She’ll often tease you about how desperate you look.

Sometimes, Abby enjoys taking her time, slowly sliding in and out, building the intensity. She’ll alternate between gentle thrusts and hard, punishing ones. She likes to see how much you can handle before she goes faster or harder.

#abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #the last of us #abby headcanons #Abby imagines #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you

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stargazedwinchester · 3 days ago

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Hey, for a request, how about an earlier seasons Dean x Reader scenario in which they got a little crush and flirting going on, sparks between them, but Dean's a little worried that John won't approve? 👀

Your texting moodboard and the image of the "I love you. Don't reply, this is my dad's number" kinda inspired this idea!

Forbidden ♡ Dean

Summary: John doesn't approve of you dating his son, Dean. Word Count: 1,037 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Thank you for requesting ily!! I love this bc I love JDM <3 what a dilf A little bit of Negan came out here (sorry not sorry)

When your parents passed in such a cruel, sadistic way, Dean was the one that saved you. He was the one that introduced you to hunting, to really get a feel for the life that could’ve been if you knew you could save your parents.

That gnaws at you every damn day.

At this point, you had known Dean for roughly a year, joining him on late night drives to dive bars, drinking til you can’t see. You’d stay with him in motels close to your hometown, just for the sake of company. You don’t have a lot here anymore. No close family, old school friends turned acquaintances, so you can really just rely on Dean and his younger brother, Sam.

Oh, and John.

John is a tough nut to crack. Majority of the time, you can’t tell when he’s being genuine or an absolute dick. You know Sam and Dean had a tough childhood with him not being present enough in their lives, so that fact has already somewhat helped you decide from the get-go. You had tried multiple times in the past to get on his good side: trying to get to know him, stay friendly with his sons, and most importantly, stay out of his way.

“You wanna come with?” Dean invites, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. His dad sits in the front seat of the impala, waiting for Dean to finish up. “You think he’ll let me?” You peer at John, his eyebrows scrunched, glaring at Dean. Dean looks over his shoulder, John ushering him to hurry up. “Hell what he thinks. Come with me.”

You press your lips together firmly, believing that if you join them, it’ll end badly. “Dean.” He calls, his voice stern and impatient. “We need to go.” John rolls the window up, and Dean rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” You focus your eyes on Dean, who shakes his head lightly. “He doesn’t like anyone. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll figure something out.” He flashes you a quaint smile that makes your tummy do somersaults. You place a peck on his cheek, and he blushes almost immediately. “I’ll miss you.” He says, and you smile. Dean walks down toward the car, then drives off.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and you haven’t heard much from Dean except the odd text from random numbers. One read: ‘I Love You. Don’t reply. This is my dad’s number.’ Times like these make you ill with worry. Worry that Dean’s not safe and there’s nothing you can do. You trust that he can take care of himself and you care for him deeper than you’d like to admit.

A few hours go by and you find yourself nose-deep in your book, ruminating in the same motel room as before. Dean had mentioned about being gone for a day or two, so he paid for your room on your behalf. There’s some light commotion outside. Since the voile is practically see-through, all you can see is the motel sign gleaming through the window. The rowing gets louder, as you see two male figures almost butting heads close to your room. Putting your book down, you head over to the window and see John and Dean in each other’s faces. Again.

“She’s not an issue, dad! You haven’t even given her a chance!” Dean spits. “I don’t need to give her a chance when I’ve seen enough. You need to give her up.” John retorts, and Dean pinches his brow line. “I’m not giving her up just because you say so, dad! I really like her, so get off my ass, man.” Dean attempts to turn around, but John pulls him back. “I’m not done.” He says sternly. John forces himself to be eye to eye with Dean, his cavillous demeanour ignites a fire inside you. He carries on.

“Listen, man, you don’t get to have an apple-pie life. End of the day she’ll be the first one to run when the bullet flies - and you know what? You’ll end up being the one to pick up the pieces, or the one that gets killed. So don’t you dare come back to me when you realise how much you regret being with her and you wanna come back to hunting. It ain’t gonna happen. Once you give up your life here; there’s no going back.” He threatens. John’s eyes are dark. Menacing. You feel as if you’re rewatching Dean’s teenage years reappear right in front of you. He has always mentioned that his father is a very strict person when it comes to ‘protecting’ his boys. That’s what he calls it. You open the door and meet them halfway. John turns his head and notices the scowl on your face, his aura stagnant. “John.” You state, not even bothering to make eye contact with Dean, but you can feel him staring at you. “I don’t care what you think about me, but what you’re saying to your son is far from the truth.” You say.

“You don’t know me. You clearly don’t know your own son and you have no idea about us being together. I don’t care whether you approve of me or not, but what I’m trying to say is that I love Dean. He may be your child but he’s sure as shit nothin’ like you.” You assert yourself, and John’s demeanour changes. His eyes soften, gazing upon your whole body. He looks at Dean, then huffs. Dean almost refuses to look his father in his eyes, as if he’s scared of what he could say next.

A smirk creeps up on Johns face as he’s still looking at you. His posture relaxes as he lets out a small laugh.”You’re the first person to ever stand up to me about my boys. You’ve got balls, Y/N. I like that.” John says, which takes you by surprise. This whole time you assumed John didn’t like you, turns out it’s quite the opposite. “You’re headstrong and you’ll look after my kid. You may not seek my approval but I’m giving it to you.” Jon looks over at Dean, who’s just as shocked as you are. “Thank you, sir.” You nod, and John walks back to the car. Dean sighs.

“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. I was starting to get a little worried.” He looks at you with a shine in his eyes, one that screams ‘my-father-finally-agrees-with-something-i’ve-done’.

“Thank God.” You breathe. Dean takes your hand and walks you toward the car. He opens the back passenger door, planting a kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #john winchester

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crowsofdarkness · 2 days ago

Text

Truth: One Shot

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 8,799

Content Warnings: language, angst, tiny bit of violence, mentions of death, mentions of drunk driving, alcoholism, and implied smut.

Summary: A next door neighbor bound with secrets; one of which nearly breaks you from the inside out.

-originally posted on my old blog-

I walked up the last few steps towards my apartment, the long and emotional day finally catching up to me. The three hour drive turned into a six hour and with half of my day gone, the thought of climbing into bed brought a soft smile to my lips. The amount of people I had to plaster a fake smile for mentally drained me so I was thankful I didn’t have to see anyone for the next 12 hours until someone undoubtedly face-timed me to check in.

Grief wasn’t something I expected to deal with overnight and the support was nice when needed. But it had been years since that night, I was at the point in my life where I was ready to finally move on and accept it, even if his family continued to check in every day.

Whatever joy I felt about being able to quickly slip inside and into my bed left my body when I noticed two guys hanging around the apartment door across from mine, chatting amongst themselves. Internally I groaned when I knew that I wasn’t going to go unnoticed by them. Almost every day one of them would ask for my number or ask to come inside. It never got physical and they accepted no the first time.

It still bothered me that they tried every day.

“Hey baby, why the long face?” One of the guys asked.

Not wanting to deal with any of them today, I ignored them and reached my door in a quick flash, ready to get this interaction over with. However the other guy had stepped in front of me to block me from entering my apartment.

Unbeknownst to them, I had gripped my car key in between my fingers; to be safe.

“Please move. I’m not in the mood tonight.” I threatened.

He licked his lips. “Come on. One night with us will change your mood. I guarantee it.”

I sliced my eyes into him. “Move. Now.”

He didn’t budge and the other guy was now lurking behind me. My heart hammered in my chest, not knowing what was to come. The key could only do so much damage with the two of them.

“Everything alright?”

I looked over my shoulder and let out a long breath of relief when I saw my next door neighbor leaning against his doorway, concern etched on his face.

“Doesn’t concern you.” The guy behind me said while not taking his eyes off of the back of my head.

“I think it does,” my neighbor said.

The guy that was blocking my path inside didn't bother to see who my neighbor was before he spoke up.

“Man, get back inside. She's fine!”

“She doesn’t look fine.”

The same guy grabbed my hand, ignoring my neighbor, and led me towards my door giving an extra hard push.

“Tell him babe, you’re with us.”

I haven't officially met my neighbor, only seeing him in passing, so I hoped he understood the look of despair I gazed his way. If that didn’t catch on, the way I mouthed ‘help’ should have.

Before I could register what had happened, my neighbor had the guy behind me on the floor clutching his stomach and the guy in front of me pinned up on the wall, gloved fingers around his throat. By the look of fear in their eyes, it was clear that they finally realized who saved me.

“I don’t want to see you lurking around here or bothering her again, understand?”

They guys were out of sight in seconds, not wanting to get on the wrong side of my neighbor again.

“You alright?” He asked while giving me a quick once over with his intense eyes.

I nodded, my heart calming down. “Yeah, thank you for that. They always hang around but never got that close before.”

My neighbor nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He went to walk back into his apartment but my quiet voice stopped him.

“Thank you again, Mr. Barnes.”

He turned to face me once again. “You can call me Bucky. I’m around anytime if you need something.”

We shared a small smile before slipping into our own apartments.

The quiet solace of my apartment was everything I needed after the absolute hell of a morning I had. I never meant to raise my voice at her, she was hurting too, but she was asking questions that I didn’t even know the answer to.

“I never said I don’t miss him, Barb. It’s just been so long that I can’t keep dwelling on the what if’s.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you want to know what happened to him?”

“Of course I do! But there’s no leads; no answers. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“He’s my son, Y/N. I will find out what happened to him whether you want me to or not!”

“He was my husband, Barb! I don’t have any fucking answers on how he died because I don’t know how he died! The cops don’t even know. So stop thinking I’m hiding something from you.”

My mother in law meant well but she was tired of not having answers to what happened; we all were. But none of us were accusing each other of hiding something.

I let out a deep, aggravated sigh, while I pinched my eyes shut, hoping it would help the headache that was slamming behind my eyes. My body molded into the couch, hoping that it would ease away the worries I felt. The darkness I saw behind my eyes began to fill with memories that night, hours before he died, and my veins filled with regret knowing that I was the reason he was dead. I kicked him out that night, told him not to come back unless he kicked his habit.

Alcohol consumed his life and it wasn’t something I could deal with anymore.

The constant fights because of him staying out all night at the bars or showing up to important things drunk as hell.

Maybe if I let him stay, he would still be alive.

I quickly shook those thoughts out of my mind, knowing that even if I did keep him home that night, one way or another he would have still wrapped his car around a tree.

The only answers the cops could give me was that they believed he was driving drunk. I believed them because I knew the kind of man he was; as much as he loved me, he loved the booze a bit more.

His mother never wanted to believe that her “precious son” could have those demons so when I told her what happened, she didn’t believe me.

My phone’s alarm went off with the message laundry and I remembered that I had been working on my laundry when Barb called.

Making sure my phone and keys were in my pocket, I let my door close behind me as I walked down the long hallway and hung a left, the communal laundry room coming in sight.

I always chose to do my laundry in the middle of the night because everyone else in the building was asleep so I didn’t have to worry about someone hogging all of the machines.

So to say I was surprised when I saw someone else in the laundry room was an understatement; mostly because Bucky had his back to me, folding away. I only knew it was him because of the metal fingers that worked to fold a shirt of his.

“Here I thought I was the only one who did laundry at 3 am,” I smirked while walking past him.

Bucky gave me his own. “I usually don’t but couldn’t sleep so I figured I might as well get a couple loads done.”

Realizing that my clothes weren’t quite dry yet, I set them for another cycle before giving Bucky my attention once again.

“Did I have my t.v to loud? I only moved in six months ago and sometimes forget that these walls are paper thin.”

He quickly shook his head when he noticed the sorrowful frown pulling my lips.

“Not at all. Just couldn’t sleep,” Bucky shrugged.

There were rumors around the complex of him, some that I opted to pay no mind too but there was one that I did believe; his nightmares.

The walls were incredibly thin and you can hear a conversation from the person on the other side of the wall. Which meant I had heard Bucky have nightmares once or twice. Given who he was and what he used to do, I couldn’t blame him for having them.

For a brief moment, our eyes locked and the fire I felt burning in the pits of my stomach with how intense his gaze made me bite the inside of my cheek. I had only seen him in quick passes so never got the chance to actually look at him. His blue eyes were dark, filled with exhaustion, but somehow still shone bright. His stubble that covered the lower half of his face was filled with a few gray hairs, and the long hair that he had when I saw him a few nights ago was gone.

My mouth fell open. “How did I just notice you cut your hair?”

Bucky smiled. “Needed something different.”

“Well you look good. I mean it looks good. Not that you don’t look good, you do but your hair looks good too.”

Words spewed out like vomit before I had the chance to stop it. I felt my cheeks burning in embarrassment. It had been so long since I attempted to flirt with someone and the first chance I had, I blew it.

“I’m just going to glue my lips shut now before I embarrass myself even more.”

Bucky chuckled while lifting his basket with ease, metal arm twinkling in the overhead light. Some of the other rumors that went around the complex was that people were afraid of him because of his arm. But I always found myself intrigued with it.

Black with gold lines twisting and turning all around his arm. I wanted to trace it with the tips of my fingers.

“If you glued them shut then we wouldn’t be able to keep talking,” Bucky said.

“I’m sure there are other people around here that will be glad to talk to you without embarrassing themselves.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like talking to them as much.”

My brow peaked at his comment. “Are you saying you like talking to me?”

He gave me a wink before walking out of the room while calling over his shoulder.

“You look good too by the way.”

The previous heat I felt down below intensified and had to swallow the moan that came crawling out of my throat. This was the second interaction we shared that lasted more than a few seconds and slowly he began taking over my mind where I found myself thinking of what he was doing and how badly I wanted to talk to him or see him.

“God, I need a bath and a large milkshake,” I groaned to myself as I reached the last step of the floor to my apartment.

My eight hour shift that started at six this morning became a fifteen hour shift and now that it was reaching close to nine in the evening, I never craved sleep more than I did right now.

As my door came into view, I quickly noticed that Bucky’s door was open and he was hanging around it, a few people with him. They were chatting amongst themselves and clearly having a good time so I decided not to impose. My head was down as I searched my purse for my keys, trying to go unnoticed.

“Long day?”

Bucky stepped away from his group of friends and leaned against my door frame.

I nodded. “My boss asked me to stay a few extra hours; I couldn't say no.”

“So I’d assume you’re too tired for a drink?” Bucky asked while stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got the late shift tomorrow so I want to take advantage of the extra sleep.” I apologized.

He waved me off, saying he understood.

“Plus, I wouldn’t want to impose on your friends.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bucky shook his head. “But if you change your mind, the offer still stands.

I nodded a quick thanks before I watched him walk back into his apartment, the skinny brunette girl attached to his arm. A twinge of jealousy stirred in my stomach and I let out a gruff groan, knowing that it was ridiculous of me to feel jealous.

The rest of the night passed with nothing exciting, that was until I had decided to finally go to sleep, only to be kept awake by nightmares of that night. Flashing red and blue lights, his car wrapped around the tree, his body hanging out of the driver's side door with blood pooling from his head, and the sirens being drowned out by my screams.

I awoke with a scream, it echoed throughout my apartment, and my chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. It had been so long since I had dreamed of that night but it was still as raw as that night.

Once I had calmed down, I finally could hear what was coming from the wall behind me. The headboard banging against the wall in the apartment next door only getting drowned out by the moaning of what could only be described as ecstasy.

But as soon as I heard it, it ceased being replaced by hushed voices.

“Did you hear that?”

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.”

“I think the scream came from Y/N’s place.”

“Bucky, come on. I’m only in town for tonight. Don’t waste it on someone else. I’m sure that person is fine.”

Damn these thin walls.

With a quick jump from my bed, I tossed on a sweater and sweatpants before climbing onto my balcony through my large bedroom window, allowing the fall night air to calm my racing thoughts. I don't know who I thought was on the other side of the wall, clearly that was Bucky’s room and there was a brunette clinging to him when they walked back into his apartment.

It still stung to see someone else with him.

Why does it matter to you? You’re not even on his radar.

I shook the thought from my mind and looked up into the sky, hoping to see some stars. Why I ever moved to New York, I never understood. With the noise and lights, trying to look up to the night sky for some peace was inevitable.

Tears fell and I ghastly wiped them away as I thought back to my nightmare, visions of him lying there in death, all alone. Soft sobs fell from my lips and shoulders shook with despair and hatred that I allowed him to leave that night.

“Everything alright?”

I slightly jumped at the voice and saw Bucky leaning against the shared railings of our balcony, a beer bottle loosely hanging between his fingers.

“Yeah,” I nodded while avoiding his gaze.

Thankfully it was dark out here so he wasn’t able to see my tear stained cheek. Between the nightmares and hearing Bucky having sex with someone else, I was a wreck.

I wasn’t sure why the thought or image of him with someone else bothered me so much. This feeling was unknown, something I hadn’t felt in so long; since before my husband. Maybe that’s why I felt like this, guilty for it being because of another guy.

You fancy him, dumbass.

Blinking away the thought, I leaned deeper into the chair and closed my eyes, enjoying the breeze.

“Anything I can help with?” Bucky questioned.

“I don’t want to keep you from your company.”

He quickly shook his head. “You’re not.”

“I’m fine, Bucky. I just couldn’t sleep,” I kept my eyes trained on the chipped away nail polish on my fingers.

The curtness in my voice didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I heard a scream-.”

“Bucky, there you are! What are you doing out here, it’s freezing!”

Both of our eyes landed on the woman that had slinked her way next to Bucky, a hand on his back and a soft kiss to his cheek.

My heart fell deep into my stomach and I let out a shaky breath to try and compose myself. I didn’t want to cry again, not in front of them.

“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m talking with Y/N,” Bucky nodded towards me.

I shook my head while standing to my feet. “I was actually about to head to bed. See you around.”

“Perfect, let's go Bucky.”

The brunette linked fingers with him, purposely avoiding his metal hand, and tried to drag him inside.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bucky wondered.

I nodded, trying to hold the tears back but Bucky could see right through my facade and told the brunette he would meet her inside. Reluctantly she nodded and soon it was the two of us again.

“She seems nice,” I motioned towards where she was previously standing. “Sounds like you two had a good night.”

Bucky’s face fell when he realized what I was talking about. “You heard?”

“Thin walls.”

He cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, we’re usually more quiet.”

“Oh, so this isn’t a one time thing?” I wondered.

“Does it matter?” He asked.

But then the confusion was replaced with humor, a sly smirk pulling at his lips. His elbows leaned against the railing, his face coming closer to me. We were so close now I was afraid he could tell that I had been crying so I kept my gaze trained hard to the floor beneath my feet.

A cool metal finger lifted my chin and I sucked in a breath when I drank in his gaze, so powerful and moving.

“Are you jealous?”

My lips parted, unsure of how to answer mostly because I didn’t even know if that’s what I was feeling. But I did recognize one feeling and was coursing through me; comfort.

It was a simple action, his finger lifting my chin, but that had been the first contact I’ve felt in so long that it almost over took me, the tears pooling at the corner of my eyes.

“No,” I finally answered.

Bucky snorted, not believing me. Whatever witty comment he had was gone when tears fell from my eyes, concern clouding his gaze.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hands now cupped my face.

I shook my head in his grasp. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” he urged. “You can talk to me.”

My eyes refused to meet him, knowing that if they locked, I would melt into him and tell him everything. He didn’t need that, though. He could have been dealing still with his own trauma, I wasn’t going to pour mine on top of it. I had been dealing with it on my own for so long, I could continue too.

I breathed, feeling his pinkies gently trace circles in the back of my head getting tangled in my hair. The slight action caused a quiet moan to fall from my lips.

Not a sexual moan but a need for more affection.

Bucky seemed to have understood so with his metal fingers he ran them fully through my hair and begged me with soft whispers to look at him.

I obliged.

His blue eyes bore down at me and with his touch, I felt myself crumble into him, my hands slowly grazing up his chest to his shoulders. I was ready to let it all go, let him in.

Until her voice sounded behind us once again.

“What the hell?”

Bucky turned to look at the brunette, ready to explain himself but before he had the chance, I slipped out of grasp with fresh tears falling.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.

His pleas to come back meant nothing as I slipped back inside, shutting the window behind me.

The buzzing from my phone on my end table meant nothing as I turned my back to it, adjusting a new position on my bed. With my blankets pulled up to my chin, another broken sob fell as the water from my eyes continued to stain my pillow case.

I knew who was blowing up my phone, I didn’t need to check.

Bucky had found my number from the apartment phone book the other day and he had been trying to get into contact with me to see how I was doing.

It had been almost a week since that night on my balcony and I had done everything I could to avoid him. Not sure why I felt I needed too, he only was trying to help.

Truth be told, the memories of my husband and his accident had caused me to go into a dark place, not wanting to leave my apartment let alone my bed. Since I moved to New York, I was alone, no one to share in my grief with which is why whenever a wave crashed over me, I fucking drowned in it.

When the buzzing phone finally ceased, I breathed a sigh of relief and forced my eyes to shut in hopes of letting the dark slumber take it.

Three persistent knocks to my window caused my eyes to spring open and when I saw Bucky sitting on the other side, I groaned.

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, fully engulfing myself in my blankets now.

The sound of the window opening and a large body all but crashing inside made me sit up in bed, brow perked in confusion. Bucky was standing in my bedroom now with a concerned gaze.

“You know for a former assassin, you’re not that quiet when breaking into someone’s apartment,” I stated.

He shrugged. “I thought about knocking on your door but figured you wouldn’t answer.”

I nodded. “You thought right. Feel free to leave that way though.”

My back was turned to him as I laid down in bed again, pulling the blanket to my chin. Bucky didn’t need to say anything, his warm presence was still felt behind me. I let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him again and it was then that I took in appearance for the first time. Gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt that hugged every inch of his chest and torso. His metal arm twinkled under the soft glow from the lamp in the corner of my room.

Even in somewhat darkness, he looked breathtaking.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” I questioned.

When he shook his head, I reluctantly sat up and motioned for him to sit; he hesitated.

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be inviting you in my bed right now,” I stated.

Realizing I had a point, he finally relaxed and sat on the edge of my bed. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

“You didn’t,” I reassured him with a small smile. “I’ve been dealing with some things lately, that’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky suggested.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not it was a good idea to talk to him about my problems. I didn’t want him to think less of me because of them.

You know he wouldn’t.

“I don’t want to keep you,” I began. “Especially if you’ve got company.”

Bucky immediately shook his head. “That’s over, I promise. You’re the only one that has my attention.”

My heart soared with his words and the redness that crept from my cheeks to the tips of my ears didn’t go unnoticed by him. I let out a deep breath to gain whatever courage I could and wondered where to start.

“I, uh, was married.”

Bucky’s body tensed at my words so I gently laid a hand on his knee. “Was. Not anymore.”

He relaxed with my touch.

“My husband, Rick, died about eight years ago. Next month actually,” I admitted.

His face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve done my best to move on, try to create this new life without him. Which is why I moved here. I thought a fresh start would help.”

“Why did you wait so long to leave?” Bucky asked.

“My mother in law. We only had each other and I never found the right time to leave. But the grief and questions became too much to bear so I had to stop thinking about how she felt and start taking care of myself.”

I almost didn't notice Bucky slip his flesh fingers between mine as I continued to tell my story.

Almost.

“She was so hell bent on finding the truth on what happened that her accusations pushed me away.”

“With his death?” Bucky questioned.

I let out a low sob. “Yeah. He-uh-he was driving drunk one night and crashed his car into a tree.”

My body shook with fresh tears as the memories began replaying like an old movie in the back of my mind, the wounds tearing open once again.

Bucky had snuck up next to me, wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest. I seeped into him, allowing his soft words of comfort to ease my pain.

“The images of him hanging out of his car haunt me to this day. I can't go to sleep without seeing him, bloody and cold,” I cried into his chest, hands grasping at his shirt.

He didn’t say anything, he didn't have too. If anyone understood how I felt, it was Bucky. His large hand rubbed circles on my back while I continued to sob, finally letting go for the first time in so long. I didn’t realize how bad I needed someone to just listen to my problems and comfort me, not criticize how I feel or accuse me of keeping secrets about Rick’s death.

“His mother blames me,” I muttered into Bucky’s chest.

“Why?”

I pulled slightly away from him and looked up into his eyes; they were clouded in sorrow. He cupped my cheek and with his metal thumb wiped the tears away, the coolness of it easing the redness caused by my cries.

“I couldn’t deal with his drinking any longer. It was ruining our marriage so I told him that he needed to leave and only come back when he was sober. Rick’s mom didn’t want to believe that he had those demons but he did. I held onto him for so long that I couldn’t take care of him any longer.”

“He got so good at hiding when he was drunk that I had no idea he was that night. Maybe if I had known, he would still be-.”

“Hey,” Bucky lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. “You cannot blame yourself for his actions, okay? None of what happened is your fault.”

I wasn’t so sure if he was talking to me or more so himself. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that knew about The Winter Soldier's past that Bucky had so much trouble not blaming himself for what he did during that time.

My head pounded from all the crying and I had nothing left in me, emotionally, so all I could do was nod in his grasp.

“I’m here to help you with whatever you need to get past that guilt, alright?”

I nodded again. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He responded by pulling me into his chest once again, allowing me to ease into his comforting touch as he continued to run circles over my back.

Time had passed, the two of us locked together with my sobs being replaced with constant yawn after yawn.

Bucky began to pull away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

I squeezed him a bit, not ready to let go. “Few more minutes? I haven't felt this kind of comfort in so long. It’s nice.”

His lips brushed the top of my head and I melted into him again, my heart beating so hard against my chest I knew not only could he feel it, Bucky could hear it as well.

“Take all the time you need, doll.”

My heart fucking soared at the pet name.

Our laughter bounced off the walls of the complex as Bucky and I both ascended up the staircase towards home. I had been on my way home from work when I bumped into him one block away, with a bouquet of fresh flowers grasped between his metal fingers.

“You mentioned that you had a rough day at work so I thought these would make it better.”

His words from when I questioned him about them brought a smile back to my face.

Ever since that night last month where I told him about Rick, we had grown incredibly close. He was there for me when the nightmares got bad or I needed someone to talk to; with me also returning the favor.

Even if he was in therapy to deal with his past, I was still by his side to lend an extra ear and a comforting hold.

If anyone was to ask what we were, I would tell the truth; friends.

That love to steal longing glances, the occasional flirty banter, and fingers lingering on one's skin longer than normal.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to get me flowers, Buck,” I reiterated my words from earlier.

He shrugged as we turned the corner of the hallway, our apartments coming into view.

“Anything to bring a beautiful smile to your face,” he mused while throwing an arm over my shoulder. .

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” I giggled while patting his chest.

My feet came to a halt when I saw the lone figure leaning against my door, arms crossed in what appeared to be one thing.

Anger.

“Barb, hi. What are you doing here?” I asked, confused.

She shook her head. “Eight years. Today.”

My heart dropped. Bucky had been such a good thing in my life lately that I had forgotten Rick’s death anniversary was today.

“Oh.” I muttered.

Barb scoffed. “That’s all you have to say? What would Rick have to say about this?”

She motioned towards Bucky who still had his arm around me so he quietly slipped away and tried to leave but I gently grasped his arm to stop him.

“I can go. I’ll talk to you later,” he suggested.

While I shook my head, Barb’s demeaning voice spoke again.

“I think that’s a good idea. She doesn’t need you right now.”

My eyes snapped over towards her. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to speak to him like that?”

“Doll, it’s alright.”

“Doll?!” Barb shrieked. “How long has this been going on? What would Rick think?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Nothing because he’s dead Barb. Has been for a long time.”

“I cannot believe you’ve moved on already. He was your husband for god sakes! He loved you dearly and this is how you repay him? Fucking the first man that touched you.”

Anger radiated off of me, Bucky noticing the way my breath became erratic so he gently laced our fingers together and nodded towards his door.

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

In our many talks I had mentioned a few times about how demeaning and cruel my mother in law could be but I put up with it for years because I was married to her son. The constant belittlement from her had knocked me down to my lowest and now that I was finally starting to feel better about everything thanks to his help, Bucky refused to let me get back to that low.

I held him back with a shake of my head before giving Barb my attention. “I don’t know why you came here. Like I said on the phone last week, I still don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Barb. Whether you want to believe it or not, your son was an alcoholic and it was his actions that night that killed him. I know it’s not easy to hear but Rick is gone and your quest to find answers to questions that don’t exist isn't going to bring him back.”

Barb shook her head, looking at me bewildered. “No. There’s a witness that was there that night. They said they saw someone in the road before RIck crashed. He swerved so he wouldn’t hit them. Not the lies you’ve been saying!”

“I’m not lying about anything!” I snapped, mouth ready to spew hateful things towards her.

Bucky squeezed my hand as if he could read my mind, knowing what I was about to say.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, knowing that no matter what I said to her Barb would never change her mind. She could never see her son in such a negative light.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Barb. But I know that I can’t keep doing this with you; Rick wouldn’t want this. As much as we loved each other, he wanted me to move on. We talked about it all the time that if something happened to one of us that the other wouldn’t dwell on the heartbreak. He had demons, he tried to drown them with alcohol but they knew how to swim.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Rick would want me to be happy, to find love with someone else. He would want the same for you.”

Without another word, I let Bucky lead me inside of his apartment, ready to finally leave Barb in my past.

“Are you alright?” Bucky questioned once inside.

I sat on his couch with a soft groan and nodded. “Yeah, it needed to be said. I hate that it took so long though.”

Bucky trekked around his apartment placing the flowers in a vase then grabbing a beer for him and a glass of water for me. I smiled a thanks as he sat next to me, his hand placed on my knee. “I’m sorry for what she said to you,” I frowned.

He shrugged. “It's nothing you need to apologize for, doll.”

With his flesh hand on my knee and the metal one lounged on the top of the couch, his fingers inches from my face, I began tracing the gold lines, mesmerized by the design. Before when I would look or touch it, Bucky would flinch because he was afraid of how I would react to it.

“I don’t understand how you’re not afraid of it,” Bucky wondered.

“The way I see it,” I began while linking our fingers together, “This arm was your fresh start. Your old one did all of those horrible things and this one has done so much good, you can’t let the weight of the old one hold you back.”

A smile pulled wide on his face. “Who needs therapy when that advice is free.”

I giggled with a wink. “Plus, I come with some extra perks.”

Bucky smiled smugly with his eyes turning dark. “Care to explain what those perks are?

My lips went dry and I rolled my tongue over them, hoping it would help. The intense gaze I felt from Bucky was enough to lock me into place on his couch with my hands now in my lap clasped together in hopes they stopped shaking with nerves.

They didn't.

There was something between us, that wasn’t a question. But what exactly, I wasn’t too sure. We would flirt back and forth and have some small touches here and there but that’s all it was. Neither of us were brave enough to take the next step in this relationship.

I gnawed on my bottom lip while staring in Bucky’s eyes and I noticed the way his breath caught in his throat, unable to move as I slowly, oh so agonizingly slow, closed the distance between us. Meters from his lips, I hesitated though, my warm breath fanning over his plump lips. This close I could see how pink and full they were, practically begging to be kissed; ravished.

Lips parted and ghosting over each other, I could feel the softness against mine and when I glanced up into his gaze I noticed Bucky’s pupils were blown with desire.

Fuck it.

I crashed my lips to his in a slow but firm kiss, testing to see if he wanted this as much as I did. Soon we began to meld together, his hands gripping my hips while mine found his broad shoulders, nails digging slightly. He hissed against my lips, the sensation burning low in my core when he repaid the favor by digging his own nails into the bare skin of my back.

I nibbled on his bottom lip, begging to taste him, and his tongue slipped between my lips, exploring every inch of my mouth and I groaned when the heat expanded from my core all the way to my head, making me dizzy.

Our breathing had become ragged with desire, wanting to feel every single inch of each other's bodies. Bucky’s flesh hand tangled in my hair while his metal hand lifted me with ease into his lap, sprawling his fingers over the plump of my ass. My own hands ran down his chest, down his stomach to ghost over the belt of his pants before they snaked underneath his shirt, the skin of his stomach hot with lust.

“Bucky,” I moaned into his mouth when I felt his hips press into mine.

The hardness of his cock pressed against the confines of his jeans and a low groan echoed into his mouth when he pressed up against my heated core again.

Bucky’s lips left mine to start biting and nipping at the skin of my neck while I rutted slowly but firm into him. My hands gripped and pulled at his shirt, yanking it off of his head in a snap. I felt him tense under me as my eyes glazed over where the skin and metal of his arm met, the scars still looked fresh to this day.

I left soft, pepper-like kisses over each scar, letting him know that it didn't bother me.

“Bucky,” I breathed his name once again. “I need you.”

He spewed a few curses into the crook of my neck before finally pulling away, locking our lust blown pupils together. “Are you sure about this?”

I traced a finger down his cheek and scratched at the stubble on his face. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That was all he needed before tossing me over his shoulder, and carrying me to his bedroom.

The coolness from his metal fingers felt almost orgasmic on hot skin as we laid next to each other in bed, in a post-climax haze. Bucky’s fingers traced my spine from the top to bottom, over and over again, and he would leave light feathery kisses where his fingers missed.

It had been a couple weeks since our first kiss and we had been spending most of our time in his apartment since he had the bigger bed but tonight he surprised me by sneaking into my window while I was asleep, wrapping me in a warm embrace.

“For an ex assassin, you’re still not that quiet,” I muttered into his warm chest.

“I missed you,” he breathed into my hairline.

We then proceeded to spend the next hour tangled in between one another.

Our relationship had blossomed in those few days even if we had decided to take things slow, not needing to rush or put a label on it quite yet. Even though we both knew how we felt about one another.

His soft lips left the skin of my back and found its new mark on my neck, Bucky continuing the mark he began earlier.

“Bucky, I’m so tired,” I whined, playfully smacking him away.

With a fake groan of annoyance, he pulled away not before leaving a kiss on my forehead.

“I’m going to grab a glass of water then I’ll come back to bed.”

The dark slumber was within my grasp, fingers dancing towards it, so all I could do was nod in response. The bed shifted with the sudden change in weight and I wrapped the blanket around me, allowing the darkness to fully engulf me but only to be yanked from it a short time later by the sound of glass breaking.

“Babe, you alright?”

Silence.

“Bucky?”

More silence.

Pulling my brows together with confusion, I quickly dressed myself in Bucky’s shirt that he had worn over here and walked into the main living space of my apartment expecting to see Bucky cleaning up whatever broke.

However, I only saw the broken glass from a cup and a picture face down on the ground next to my couch.

“What the-?” I muttered while picking it up.

My heart sank when I saw what picture it was; Rick and I on our wedding day.

I mentally smacked myself because I thought I had taken down whatever was left of Rick in my apartment when Bucky and I started seeing each other. It wasn’t fair to him that I still had pictures or mementos of a past love up.

“Fucking dumbass. No wonder why he left,” I cursed to myself.

I scurried back into my room and reached for my phone, typing out a message.

I’m sorry that you saw that picture. I thought I packed everything up. Can you come back so I can make it up to you?

A few minutes went by with no response so I sent another message.

Or I can come over there if that’s alright.

A few more minutes went by with no response from Bucky so with an aggravated groan, I tossed my phone onto my bed with myself falling close behind.

“Way to fucking blow it, Y/N,” I grumbled while running my hands over my face.

Two days. Two fucking days Bucky had been ignoring my texts, calls, and persistent knocks to his door. I had been a wave of different emotions the last two days; Anger, confusion, and hurt; mostly hurt.

I never knew that Bucky had an issue about my past marriage since I talked about it openly with him so much and he helped me heal that part of mind and heart, moving on completely from it; with him.

The time we spent together was some of the best parts of my life and I would be a fool to say that it meant nothing to me. Bucky had become an important person in my life and the mere thought of losing him forever weighed heavy on my heart.

A heart that took so long to mend from past heartbreak and loss. A heart that took forever to find that perfect someone to pick up the pieces, make it feel whole; loved.

I sat up in bed with a start, the blankets falling from my body, when I was slammed with the sudden realization; it hit me so hard I almost fell right back into my bed.

I was in love with Bucky.

And I wasn’t going to let him get away.

Throwing whatever clothes on I could find, I was standing in front of Bucky’s door in less than a minute, knuckles rapidly knocking with no end in sight.

“Bucky, can you please open the door?” I called through the thick piece of wood. “I really need to talk to you.”

More knocking followed by more begging.

“I’m not going anywhere until you let me inside,” I informed him with crossed arms and all of my weight perched on my left foot.

“Do I have to pull some ex assassin bullshit and sneak in through your window?”

The door in front of me opened revealing a very tired looking Bucky and I cringed when I remembered that it was almost four a.m.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize what time it was.” I apologized.

Bucky simply nodded. “It’s alright.”

He went to shut the door again but I blocked it with an angry hand. “You’re not going to shut me out again. For two fucking days you’ve been ignoring me with no explanation.”

“Y/N, please-.”

“No!” I shot. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you but I don’t deserve to be shut out like this especially after everything we’ve gone through and the things I’ve told you.”

Bucky ran a hand over the subtle on his cheek before nodding, allowing the door to open a bit more with me slipping inside before he could change his mind. I was in such a rush to tell him how I felt that I hadn’t noticed his sleeping attire; a pair of very tight black briefs and his hair was a tousled mess of slumber.

As breathtaking as he looked, Bucky needed to know how I felt.

“Did I do something wrong? I know you found that picture of Rick and I.”

He was quick to dismay my worry. “It wasn’t about the picture.”

My shoulders raised with confusion. “Then what is bothering you? Is it me, are you over us?”

“No, doll, trust me.” He hesitated to reach for me.

“Then tell me why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me?!” I snapped, voice raised in anger.

“I can’t,” Bucky shook his head, refusing.

“You’re kidding, right?” I scoffed.

He was in fact not kidding with the stern face he bore.

“God, I’m so stupid!” I covered my face with my hands. “I let myself open up to you, let you in my life when I needed someone the most, trusted you with my heart and you ripped it away from me. Right when I started to fall in love with you.”

Bucky blinked. “Wh-what did you say?”

Tears pricked my eyes. “I love you, Bucky.”

“Doll,” he breathed, unsure of what to say next.

“You don’t feel the same,” I nodded to myself, realizing what his silence meant. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Hasty wiping away the tears, I stormed past him only to be stopped by his metal fingers grasping at my wrist, pulling me into his chest. His lips crashed onto mine in a powerful kiss, tongues quickly finding each other in starvation for each others taste.

We shared many kisses but this one was different; it was the kind that made you fall to your knees with dizziness.

A good kind of dizzy.

“I love you too,” he pressed into my lips.

My heart jumped into my throat as his revelation. “Then why have you been ignoring me?”

Bucky stepped back slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you. I wish I would have told you sooner, it might have saved you.”

“Save me from what?”

“Falling in love with me,” he linked our fingers together and set me down on the couch.

We sat with our knees touching and my heart was hammering so loud in my chest I knew Bucky could hear it. My mind raced a million miles a minute with different thoughts of what he had to tell me.

“The reason why I left the other night was because when I saw that picture, memories came flooding back, almost over taking me,” Bucky began.

“Memories? Of what?” I pressed.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in clear distress. “I know what happened to Rick.”

I nodded. “Yeah because I told you. He was driving drunk.”

He disagreed with me. “He wasn’t drunk that night.”

I looked at him with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

With one last deep breath, Bucky fully confessed to his past transgression.

“Rick wasn’t drunk that night. He was sober and driving to meet with the head of the local Hydra group. I don’t know what Rick told you he did for work but whatever it was was a lie. Rick was hired by SHIELD to take back the super soldier serum I had stolen back in the 90’s.”

My eyes blinked with disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I was, doll. I knew who killed Rick.”

“Who?” I asked, afraid of knowing the truth.

Bucky hesitated, breath getting caught in his throat, before he spoke with broken words. “The Winter Soldier. And that was me.”

His bottom lip trembled the same time his nose scrunched up his disgust for his previous actions.

My whole world came crashing down from the heavens, falling into large pieces of debris around me. My heart was ringing in my ears that I swore I misheard Bucky. Everything I thought I knew about Rick’s death was a lie? Had Barb been right this whole time?

“No,” I stood to my feet with a start. “You’re fucking with me.”

Bucky reached for my hand but I snatched it away, a look of hurt flashed across his face.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t have a choice,” his broken voice begged me to understand.

I stopped pacing. “How’d you do it?”

Bucky refused to answer, only standing to try and get me to stop moving. Anger spilled out of me and I pushed his shoulders to force him back onto the couch.

“How did you do it?!” I seethed.

His tongue rolled over his dry lips. “I got in the way of his car so he would have to swerve out of the way. When he crashed, I had to make it look like he was drinking so I injected him with alcohol so it looked like he had been drinking all night.”

“No,” I sobbed. “This whole time I thought he was at a bar getting fucking wasted and was on his way home when he was actually sober!”

Bucky flinched but kept his eyes trained at his shaking hands.

“You fucking left him there to die!” I screamed. “You could have saved him!”

Bucky was on his feet now, shaking his head rapidly. “It wasn’t me, doll. I swear.”

“But you still did it!”

I shoved his chest, hard, and he stumbled back a bit but kept his stance.

“I wish I never did, Y/N. If I could take back everything I did when I was The Winter Soldier, I would; you know that,” he begged me to listen.

Sobs plowed through my body causing me to shake and fall to my knees with the truth of what happened that night. The man that I found myself falling in love with had killed my husband. How do you get past that?

But it wasn’t him. He had no choice.

I screamed at the voice in my mind, telling it to shut up.

“Doll,” Bucky knelt down to reach for me.

My fist collided with his cheek knocking him onto his ass and rage took over my vision as I straddled his hips, landing blow after blow to whatever part of flesh I could hit; face, head, neck, chest, stomach, and flesh arm.

Bucky never stopped me, allowed me to hurt him; try to anyway. The super soldier serum that flowed through his blood every day made it so it felt like he was getting slapped by the wind.

“Fuck you, Barnes! I hate you!,” I bellowed while going to attack his metal arm.

In a swift movement, I was now being straddled by Bucky who had both of my hands pinned above my head with his metal fingers gripped tight. Tears fell from his eyes onto the skin of my neck and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

“You don’t mean that.”

I writhed in his grasp, trying to break free. “I do! You’re a monster, I hate you!”

When the words left my lips, I immediately regretted them. I knew that he wasn’t a monster, I was only angry at his revelation. I never meant to call him that. Whatever anger I had spilled out of my body through the floor beneath me and I tried to break free once again from Bucky, to reach for him.

“I didn’t mean it,” I cried.

He nodded before pulling me into his chest, arms now wrapped around me. He hushed my cries with whispers of sorrow and promised to make it right; make everything right with me and us again.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

My hands clutched at the muscles of his back, my own words being muffled by his chest.

How could anything be right with us again with me now knowing the truth? Nothing would ever be the same.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #marvel

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profoundathletecowboybanana · 3 days ago

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Hey guys I’m feeling emo rn so have some random assorted Marvel/DC character headcanons:

Damian Wayne keeps his stress in his stomach. And he has a lot to stress about. Normally, however, he can release a good bit of stress during patrols and training, so it’s never really an issue. People think he hates getting injured/sidelined because he’s seen as weak/not training/etc, but really it’s because his body will effectively start to break down on him bc he’s too nauseous to eat or move or calm down

(Not rlly a headcanon but,) Wade Wilson still struggles with PTSD all the way back from his days in the military. He has an almost airtight raunchy, obnoxious asshole persona that is extremely effective in distracting people into forgetting about it or not caring about him enough to remember. He can never let himself relax from it because he’s scared he’ll fall into a funk he’ll never get out of. If he can play the part, he can BE the part, lest he reap the consequences. You can inflict a lot of pain on a man who can’t die

Spiderman has an addictive personality. Coupled with his atrocious coping skills, anything that could marginally be classified as a substance (coffee, alcohol, painkillers) is off the table 100%. He would never admit it, but sometimes he finds himself yearning for the slight high and perfect pain he felt from the initial spider-bite. It’s why he’s never tried to find the spider that bit him.

He had a beer at a friend’s house once and didn’t stop drinking for a month. Normally his metabolism would buzz right through it but he had been drinking so many for such a sustained period of time that he didn’t even realize it was gradually starting to build up in his system (and it was easier to function that way, with his brain turned off a little). Scared by how easy it was to get into and how much he liked it, Peter decided it was for the best if the only bottles he picked up would be for the purpose of smashing over a bad guy’s head

Clark Kent can tune out all of the sounds going on around the world. He can also tune them back in. Sometimes, in place of turning on sad music when he’s feeling down the way you and I do, he’ll tune back in to the world around him and listen to the screams of agony from people all around the world that he should be helping, and that he knows he can if he could just be Superman all the time. But he can’t quite bring himself to give up Clark Kent, and the guilt feels as though it’s going to consume him one day

Wally west is never good enough. He sets his standards to beyond what is capable, and inevitably feels himself fall short of them every time. It doesn’t matter if the people around him tell him he’s going above and beyond already. He’s seen great, unbelievable things be achieved in his time as the flash and if he can’t reach that in everything he does, as a hero, a parent, a husband, then the fastest man alive will always feel one step behind

Brucie Wayne specifically is friends with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. They like his style and music taste and he doesn’t care if they steal things from whatever gala he’s hosting as long as no one gets too hurt or killed. Brucie Wayne has been crafted so perfectly, however, that the fondness he experiences towards the two girls disappears with the persona, allowing Batman to take over and do what needs to be done in a fight. Batman doesn’t feel a thing as he dislocates Harley’s bad shoulder and burns Ivy’s vines. When Just Bruce is woken up by Alfred in the morning though, Brucie Wayne tucked aside until lunch and Batman resting in the back of his mind until the moon rises again, Just Bruce feels a sickening sense of guilt in the back of his mind that he can’t quite place.

Harley Quinn is so terrified that the acid messed up her brain beyond repair, that she has never tried to complete the research she once dedicated her life to despite the fact that her passion for it never died out. In fact, with the resources and loser morals she has now, it would be much easier to finish, but she’s rusty, and she can’t always think straight anymore, and she’s a doctor, damnit, and she will not put that title at risk by looking like a fool that don’t do some simple research. So at this point, she doesn’t even want to bother trying, despite Ivy’s assurances that she’s not as stupid as the joker made her feel.

There are whole groups of people online and in person that were created for the soul purpose of finding others who, under the effects of fear toxin, have had the joker be a disturbing focus of their fear. During these meetings, when Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, and Harley Quinn are all disguised, sitting next to each other in companionable grief, they forget all that Batman and Robin stand for and comfort each other in the sole wish that the dark night would just kill the bastard already.

The people of Gotham tend to agree in this sense. In fact, they actively advocate for it most of the time, firm in their stance that they would turn a blind eye for Batman if he’d do it just this once. It wouldn’t be compromising his morals, they assure, and they like to think they would trust Batman more if he took joker off the streets. They’re wrong. A man that strong and skilled and powerful? The only reason Batman gives any hope or safety to the people is the fact that no matter how “bad” you are, he will actively try and keep you alive. The people don’t realize it, but if they knew just how easy it would be for Batman to let his strength slip even once and kill someone, Gotham would never recover. Joker is not the greatest threat in Gotham, but having the privilege of the greatest threat being on their side, the people of Gotham don’t recognize who their biggest fear could really be

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blue-arkhamknight · 2 days ago

Note

Omg hiiii you seem cool ! And I’ve had this Jason Todd idea in my head for a bit so

What if the reader is basically his nurse he comes to her for every little cut to actual serious injuries

And this is normal but one night when he stops by to have her help with something small he realizes she sick ,fever ,chills the works and she’s stubborn but he wants to help his nurse

Just some good hurt comfort ,kinda the tables have turned

This could also totally be written as gender neutral reader instead of fem

Have a good day !

Tysm!! I actually love this idea. I have delivered (not too much well though) . Thank you for requesting and have a good day too!

Images do not belong to me and I am not a doctor or a nurse! This is all with my Dr. Mike knowledge.

I changed it a bit sorry 😿

Chicken Soup and Netflix.

Warnings: Sick reader and some deep brief detail about the sickness.

── .✦

── .★

Jason is… a bit odd to say the least. Very tall and muscular with the peculiar trait to have his face scrunched up in the waiting room of one of Gotham’s hospitals. You might ask, well what’s Jason doing there? Simple, he got a cut. Slicing some apples that his lazy brother Dick didn’t want to slice himself.

But he didn’t go there to see any nurse that could quickly attend him. No, that’d be too easy! Might as well just buy a simple bandaid and stick it on his finger then call it a day, which he absolutely can. He just doesn’t want to. This time and like any other time he went to that hospital (which was all the time) he asked for the same specific nurse. You.

“Alright, Jason. To what do I have the pleasure of seeing you for the sixth time in four days?” you questioned as you finally attended Jason. He still glared at you because for his logic, you took too long in attending him. Reality was that you were just working on a patient that was going to get a CT scan, after all, patients should be hydrated before the scans… And you were not feeling well in all honesty. Of course, Jason noticed your held in sneezes and cold shivers, but he didn’t say anything for now, fearing he would be wrong and make a fool of himself.

He held up his left index finger, showing the small cut on full display. “I cut myself.” he explained dryly as you stared at him like he was the dumbest person on Earth. You silently sighed, at the sight of his dumb cut, but also because you felt like absolute crap. “You do know about the existence of bandaids, right?” you said as you pulled out a box of them after you questioned him on how the cut occurred like with any patient. There was no need for an experienced doctor here and waste their time like you were wasting yours, even if you felt the slightest pang of something by Jason’s often demands to be attended by you out of everyone on the field.

“This is very serious! It could get infected and I need medical assistance.” he quickly defended himself. He was cradling his finger as if it would fall off. Your eyes looked at the tiny cut while you held in that very annoyed eye roll. Once you had ‘cured’ him as he called it, he stopped with the frowns. He was indeed sad that it was quick, but hey. It’s a win situation for him because got to see your face!

“Achoo!”. What? Jason’s head immediately whipped from where he was standing at the door to behind him. His hand dropped from the door knob and moved his body to face you. “…Are you sick?” he asked with his normal stoic voice, though his face was the smallest bit softer than usual. “What- no, no, no!” you rapidly declined with a very, very stubborn frown, though you were wrong. So wrong. Chills, shivers, fever, and held in coughs and sneezes.

How had he not noticed?! You looked awful and he hadn’t helped! “Sit down.” he said, though it sounded much more harsher than he intended it to be and what made it sound like a command when it wasn’t. Which rightfully so, it earned a deeper frown and a scoff from you. Truly, he was as stoic as a rock, but of course that didn’t stop the pang on his heart. The one that screamed at him ‘Stop being a nuisance and help!’, but shhh shhhh! He needs to be nonchalant, guys! Though he was always welcomed to be as chalant as he wanted.

────

After lots and lots and lots and lots of talking he finally did it. Jason convinced you to leave work and call in sick. With of course the very logical excuse that a nurse shouldn’t go to work ill, they will get sick other patients and potentially making them feel worse. Guilt tripping much, but you had to admit. The guy had a very good point.

Conveniently, Jason got to be your ride home. Again, he reasoned that you shouldn’t go on the bus and risk getting people sick. “But what about you, smart ass?” you asked sarcastically, though your words held deep inside concern of getting sick this regular patient with whom you’ve had deep talks like good friends. It all held its own deep meaning nonetheless, the glances he stole, the scoffs, the frowns, the eye rolls, and the effort he put into seeing you at the hospital. Every small injury he got, intentional or not, was an excuse to see you.

“You’ve helped me enough. Let me be of use this time.” he said as his motorcycle came to a stop. Jason hopped out first, carefully taking your hand and helping you get down. Though before you could say thank you, or huff at him, you quickly had to cover your mouth and sneeze, making you sigh and disinfect your hands so you could later wash them. You groaned at the cold, violently shivering while you walked up to your apartment complex. Jason trailed behind you in deep thought. Suddenly there was a welcoming warmth around your shoulders, a brown jacket.

If Jason could admit, it was definitely freezing. He had taken off his own jacket for your own safety. Not wanting your state to get any worse and as much as he doesn’t want to admit, he absolutely despises the horrible condition you are in. He doesn’t like it. Not the paleness, the shivering, the sneezes, the disgusting phlegm sounding coughs, and the eye bags. In conclusion? He had the case of being utterly worried and hiding it behind a stoic mask.

Clearly his jacket was welcomed since you didn’t give any sign of protest, other than huff. Even if you still didn’t want to admit it you were sick as hell and he was going to leave you alone. After all, you had helped him too many damn times with the dumbest stuff. As you both made it through the complex he saw an elevator and quickly guided you to it. “Number.” he said gruffly, leaving you confused, “Number?…” you repeated as a question. He grumbled looking at you, “Floor number.” Jason specified, making you mentally go: ‘Ohhhhh.’. “Right- Sixth floor.” you said looking at him as he gave a nod and pressed the elevator button with the number six on it.

Shortly you went into a coughing fit, covering your mouth. Jason took a notice, his hand snaking to your back and slightly patting your back. He could feel the violent shivers. Once the elevator opened and he made sure you stopped coughing, he gently pushed you off the floor elevator and trailed behind. You started walking towards your apartment. Opening the door you turned to him.

“…You can.. uh come in if you want.” you muttered, your voice getting hoarser by the time. Jason, still internally concerned gave a nod waiting for you to get inside. “How’s your finger? Still lethal?” you asked as you stepped inside, trying to loosen the tense air. He shrugged, looking at his index finger that wore the smallest bandage, “…I suppose I can last a few more hours.” he said following your tone. A hum escaped your throat, “Maybe you need some IV’s.” you said as he stepped behind you and closed the door, getting a “Definitely.” from him.

You settled down your stuff, crashing down in the couch and thats all Jason needed. He looked around and walked to the kitchen, looking for stuff to at least make a soup for you. Surprisingly he isn’t a bad cook. Grabbing the necessary ingredients to make a simple chicken soup. You looked at him from the couch, eyes lidded with exhaustion and a twinge of guilt.

“You don’t have to cook you kn-“ you spoke up, getting cut off by a stern stare of him making your sentence die down. He opened a cabinet after another, stopping when he found medicine, reading each of the labels until he saw one that was needed for your symptoms. He finished cooking the soup and poured it into a bowl and set it aside to cool down a bit. Jason then opened your fridge to grab a water bottle. His steps echoed through the silent apartment.

He stopped in front of you, handing you the bottle of water and the medicine, fixing his jacket so it covered you and kept you warm and sat you up. “Thanks…” you mumbled and took them as you sat up with his help on the couch. Jason gave another nod, “Yeah no problem.” he answered. He walked again to the kitchen and grabbed the soup bowl, a spoon and went to sit next to you. Gently, he handed you the bowl and looked around. Seeing this you gave him the TV control and he gladly took it.

Jason played a random movie in your Netflix account as you ate slowly the soup he had carefully made, his jacket around you. Your legs were in a butterfly position on the couch and slowly leaned your head on his shoulder while you kept eating the soup. Then there was a weight on your own head and another around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing against your shoulder. “Guess who’s the nurse now?” he teased, making you roll your eyes, but at last, it was nice to be taken care of instead to take care of.

──── ⋆˚✿˖° ────

SORRY IF THIS WAS BAD!! English isn’t my first language, but I’m trying to be better at writing!! Hope you liked it a little bit.

#dc comics #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #x reader #request #gotham #red hood #red hood x reader #nurse reader #gn reader #x gn reader #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood x gn!reader #sick reader

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cupidbedsy · 1 day ago

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୨୧ unpredictable ; cb98

➪ summary: chicago weather is unpredictable, but connor and y/n always make the best of it.

➪ warnings: none !

➪ word count: 0.8k

➪ cupid's notes: it has been way too long since i've written something for connor and i am so grateful that a nonnie sent me this idea i was able to write a small little blurb for him. and yes, it is totally fucking freezing in here, please save us

Early mornings with Connor were always her favorite thing. Soft sunlight streamed through the cracked-open curtains, the radiator hummed softly, and Connor’s arm thrown across her stomach as he buried his head into her shoulder.

The peaceful bliss the two were both encompassed in was soon disrupted by her phone's blaring ringtone. She blinked her eyes open slowly, raising her hand to her face to wipe the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She reached over, clicking accept on her call as she brought it to her ear, “Hello?”

Connor groaned from beside, trying to shove his head further into her to escape the muffled voices.

Soon enough, her hand was running through his hair and her phone was thrown back on the nightstand. He let out a soft sigh in content, pushing his head into her hand as she spoke, “I’m off today. No school, no work.”

“Like I would’ve let you go in sub-zero weather.”

She said nothing, settling back into the comfort of the bed and continuing to play with his hair. However, the sleep Connor desperately wanted to fall back into left him and now his eyes were wide and his mind was awake.

He scooted down the bed just far enough so he could rest his chin against her stomach, causing her to look at him curiously, “What’re you doing?”

“Cuddling you,” Connor stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world as he wrapped his arms around her torso and rested his head flat against her belly.

She couldn’t help that escaped her mouth, returning her fingers to his hair and going on her phone, most likely starting her doom scrolling of the day.

It was a few minutes later when he spoke again, his words murmured from his current position, “What do you want to do today?”

“I do have a few things to finish for class but other than that, whatever.”

He shoots her a grin, one that’s both comforting and filled with mischief that makes her stomach queasy, “What?”

“What?” He replies coyly, sitting up and pushing himself back so he’s resting against the heels of his feet, towering over her slightly.

She takes the opportunity to climb off the bed and head towards the closet where she’s left things in case something like this ever happened, Chicago weather was always unpredictable.

It doesn’t take Connor long to come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him so her back is flushed with his chest. He watches as she picks out a shirt, one that they both know is actually his, before she moves on to pluck a pair of sweatpants from the drawer.

“Connie?”

He hums in response but he’s too busy pressing kisses along her shoulder and up her neck to pay attention to what she was saying. She sighs, both of pleasure and annoyance, as she sinks back into his warmth, letting her hands find his.

He reluctantly pulls away when he recognizes the silence she’s taken on is tainted with the slightest bit of irritation. He spins her around, smirking when her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “What is it baby?”

“I really need to finish this thing for class and then I promise I’m all yours. Why don’t you go make breakfast?”

And how could he say no to the adorable, innocent eyes she was giving him? He sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead and cheek, before finally planting one on her lips before murmuring, “Fine.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Both breakfast and her assignment didn’t take long to finish up which left the two of them snuggling up on the couch as they watched Desperate Housewives, a show the two had accidentally stumbled upon after a late night of searching high and low for something to watch.

“I feel like I need to restart this because if I’m totally honest I don’t remember anything that happened in the first season.”

Connor’s eyes flicked over to y/n, “Good because me too. It’s been so long since we’ve actually had time to do this.”

She smiled, curling into him. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his side, her head against his chest and hand absentmindedly tracing shapes across his lower torso. He took the remote from her other hand, navigating his way to the Disney+ app so he could put the show on, “I’ve missed this.”

“I’ve missed this too,” she peered up at him, kissing his jaw before settling back against him as the first episode played across the TV.

Chicago weather was unpredictable, but whether it was cold or hot, it seemed to work out in their favor.

꒰ CHICAGO BLACKHAWKS TAGLIST ꒱

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @petite-potato4 @absolutelyhugh3s @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic @winterbarnesblog @fantillisgirl

CB98 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

#˚ ༘♡〚 cupids writing 〛ₓ｡#˚｡⋆〚 blurbs 〛#˚｡⋆〚 connor bedard 〛#connor bedard #cb98 #connor bedard x reader

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bestalbertcamuslover · 1 day ago

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Bar Fight

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Jenson Button x Teammate!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Did the race go well? No, not certainly. Was she still going to the club after it? Yes, very much. Not because she liked clubbing, that was not really her vibe, but having Jenson as a teammate made her do many reckless things, as that suave smile always heard a ‘yes’ as an answer.

The music pulsed around her, a heavy bassline vibrating through the crowded VIP section of the club. Lights flashed in rapid succession, casting alternating shadows and bright colors across the space. She leaned against the bar, drink in hand, standing next to the friend she had somehow roped into this. Despite the energy of the room, she wasn’t quite in the mood, her earlier frustration from the race still lingering beneath the surface.

Jenson appeared out of nowhere, his easy charm and that familiar grin cutting through the haze of the club. He was a natural here—relaxed, effortless, like the chaos of the dancefloor was just another race he’d mastered.

“C’mon,” he said, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. His voice was playful, teasing, yet with that undertone of genuine persuasion. “You look like you’re plotting your escape.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Not much of a club person, remember?”

“But here you are,” he countered, the glint in his eye daring her to argue. “If you’re going to come, at least try to have fun. Live a little.”

“I am living,” she shot back, taking a sip of her drink and gesturing toward the lively scene around them. “See? Living.”

Jenson rolled his eyes, stepping closer, his tone mockingly conspiratorial. “Standing still and people-watching doesn’t count as living, you know.”

Her friend stifled a laugh, clearly entertained by the exchange, while Jenson extended a hand toward her, that confident grin widening. “One dance. Just one. You’re not leaving until you’ve at least pretended to enjoy yourself.”

She looked at his outstretched hand, then back at him, the challenge clear in his expression. He always knew how to get under her skin in just the right way. Still, she was not going to dance.

“Ugh, you’re so impossible sometimes,” he said teasingly, before ordering some shots with amusing ease.

The bartender lined up the shots in front of them, the liquid catching the strobing lights of the club. Jenson slid one toward her, his grin only widening when she gave him a skeptical look.

“C’mon,” he said, holding his own shot up. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto her face. “You say that now, but you’ll regret it when I’m hungover during the flight.”

Jenson chuckled, leaning closer. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, maybe this’ll finally get you to loosen up a bit.”

With a sigh and a playful shake of her head, she clinked her glass against his. “Fine. But just this one.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied with a wink, throwing the shot back effortlessly.

She followed suit, the sharp burn of the alcohol quickly replaced by a warm buzz that spread through her chest. Jenson didn’t waste a second, sliding another shot her way. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged innocently. “One more won’t hurt.”

And so it went. One shot turned into two, and then three, until the tension from the race started to melt away. The music felt a little less grating, the crowd a little less overwhelming. She found herself laughing at Jenson’s exaggerated stories, his easy charisma impossible to resist.

By the time the bartender cut them off from ordering more, she was grinning, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away. “Okay,” she admitted, leaning on the counter. “Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea.”

Jenson smirked triumphantly, leaning back against the bar. “See? Told you. You just needed to trust me.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” he teased, tapping his temple. “Now, are you ready to actually have some fun?”

“I thought this was fun,” she shot back, but her words were lighter now, her smile lingering.

He gave her a playful bad look. “Yeah, no,” he grinned, “we said one dance,” he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, but agreed, as he was already grabbing her wrist to head her to the dance floor. “I borrow her for a sec,” he said to her friend.

Her friend just smirked knowingly and waved them off, clearly amused by the dynamic. Jenson’s grip on her wrist was firm but gentle as he led her through the crowd, weaving past people with an ease that only he could manage in such chaos.

Jenson twirled her around playfully, her laughter blending with the thumping bass of the music. For a moment, she was genuinely enjoying herself, her movements light and carefree as Jenson’s grin urged her on.

It was all fine until her elbow accidentally bumped into someone holding a drink, sending a splash of liquid onto the woman’s outfit.

“Are you kidding me?” the woman snapped, glaring down at the stain on her dress and her now-empty glass.

She froze, turning immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, her tone sincere. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you didn’t,” the woman interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she looked her up and down. “You’re too busy living in your own little bubble to notice anyone else.”

Her brows furrowed, irritation bubbling up, but she pushed it down. “Look, I’ll buy you another drink,” she offered, keeping her voice even.

The woman rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sure, like that’s going to fix anything,” she said sharply. Her gaze shifted, taking in Jenson standing beside her, his brow raised. Recognition flickered across her face, but instead of softening, her expression hardened further.

“Oh, great,” the woman sneered. “Figures. A couple of spoiled rich kids. Probably think the world revolves around you because you can drive fast cars and look pretty.”

Her jaw tightened, her earlier patience quickly wearing thin. “I said it was an accident,” she repeated, her tone firmer now.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should try paying attention,” the woman snapped. “Not everyone has the luxury of walking around like they own the place.”

Jenson stepped in before she could respond, his calm demeanor masking his growing annoyance. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his voice steady but laced with warning. “It was an accident, and she’s apologized.”

The woman let out a deadpan laugh, crossing her arms. “Of course you’d jump in. Can’t let your little teammate take any responsibility, can you?”

She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath to keep herself from snapping back. But the woman wasn’t done. “Bet you’re used to people cleaning up after your messes, aren’t you? Must be nice.”

That did it. Her composure cracked, and she stepped forward, her voice low and sharp. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked tightly. “I apologized, and I offered to make it right. But if you’re so determined to throw a tantrum, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The woman blinked, momentarily stunned by her tone. Before she could respond, Jenson slid an arm around her waist, gently pulling her back. “We’re done here,” he said firmly, steering her away.

Her heart was pounding as they moved through the crowd toward a quieter corner. She muttered under her breath, “Unbelievable. What a bitch.”

Jenson chuckled softly, his hand still resting at her waist, a grounding presence in the chaos. “She was just looking for a reason to pick a fight,” he said, glancing at her with a small smirk. “Guess she got more than she bargained for.”

“See, that would not have happened if I had stayed at the hotel,” she replied, though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her attempt at seriousness.

“True,” Jenson said, his grin widening. “But then you wouldn’t have had the chance to prove you’re not just fierce on the track. You’re a multitasker now—dodging unwarranted insults and somehow still managing to look stunning while doing it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the compliment worked; the tension melted away, replaced by something lighter. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” he teased, his tone warm and playful.

A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she shook her head. “Maybe I should be the one questioning my life choices.”

Jenson leaned closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Nah, you’re doing just fine.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than she intended, the noise of the club fading into the background. Maybe coming out tonight hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language. I hope you liked it <333

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