#so i was reading that to him :] and he was super into it asking me abt words i didnt know he even asked me Why is his last name snicket...

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Something More

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Since you met Bucky, he's always looked at you with...something more. And you never knew why. One day, you finally find out what he means by it.

Disclaimer: mentions of cheating and swearing, revenge on cheating ex. Bucky deals with said cheating ex. Descriptions of naked/slightly naked Bucky though nothing too explicit. Fluff, found family vibes, Sam and Bucky bickering. Use of nicknames (specifically 'doll'). Not Proof Read.

“What are you still doing here?”

Bucky had just passed your lab. As far as he was aware, you should have left work hours ago. You should have been getting ready, listening to whatever playlist you’d compiled with Wanda, picking your outfit with that perfect smile on your face as you looked in your mirror to fix your lipstick. 

So why were you still here?

You looked up, looking for him and where his voice had travelled from. Your gaze found him standing back in the doorway. The lights behind him were dimer than they usually would be. After the clocks turned six in the evening, they did that to save on energy – even then, they’d only come on if they sensed someone. Before he’d walked down the corridor, the only lights on had been inside your lab with you. 

“Oh, hey.” You turned back to your work. “Just wanted to get some things finished before tomorrow. Hoping Tony might give me half a day.”

Bucky felt himself chuckle as he walked inside. “You do the work of three people. If you asked him, he’d tell you to take a week off.”

You chuckled because you knew it to be true. But you also didn’t like taking too much time away from work. You actually liked your job and the people you worked with. Some more than most. 

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Shouldn’t you be on your date right about now?”

Bucky looked at his watch. 9:20pm. 

“Oh, uh,” You tried your best to avoid his gaze as you looked away from him. “Yeah…yeah, probably.”

Bucky studied you. And you could feel him doing so. The way he stood there, clipboard loose in his hand and by his side, his eyes fixed on your body, noticing how your shoulders tensed, how you tried your best to hide away from him despite you both being the only two in the room. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Bucky shook his head and pulled up one of your rolling stools until he was sitting down and facing you. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does.”

You forced a smile, still not looking at him but rather at whatever contraption you’d pulled apart only to rebuild again. 

“No, it-”

“It does because you never hide anything from me.”

“Mostly because I can’t,” you muttered to yourself but by the soft chuckle from Bucky, he’d heard you. 

“What is it? What’s going on? Why are you still here?”

It took you a moment but eventually you put down the motherboard and finally looked at him. “If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room. I don’t need the questions and I don’t need a plethora of super-humans marching or flying down to defend my honour.”

He didn’t like where the conversation was heading but Bucky reluctantly agreed. 

“I’m not on the date, but Matthew is.” 

Matthew was your boyfriend of three years. Bucky had met him a handful of times and he seemed nice enough, but there was always something Bucky didn’t like about him. How he talked, how he walked, how he seemingly didn’t realise how lucky he was to have you. 

“What are you-”

With your hands folded in your lap, you continued to explain. “The date that I told Wanda about, the one that was meant to be for tonight?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“Well, what I thought was meant to be a surprise for me was actually…a surprise for my best friend. Ex-best friend,” you corrected yourself. “Matthew didn’t think I would find out, but when I asked him if I should take any days off work soon, he said no. I thought it was just a fluke, but it wasn’t.”

“Y/n-”

“Matthew broke up with me a week later.”

“What?”

You saw the subtle changes in Bucky’s demeanour as you told him. How his gaze and eyes grew darker, how his shoulders became stiff and alert, how his fists clenched on the table. 

You took a breath. “Matthew broke up with me three weeks ago, but I’m okay.”

“Okay? Okay? I’ll kill him.”

You shot out of your seat and rushed ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Bucky Bucky, Bucky, stop. Stop, okay. Look, I’m fine. And I promise, I am okay. Guess finding out that your boyfriend has been sleeping with your supposed best friend for six months kinda softens the aftermath of the break-up.”

“Six months?!”

“Just…sit down? Please?”

It took a little longer than a minute, but eventually he sat back down and you picked up the clipboard that had been dropped to the floor and handed it back to him. 

“How can you be okay?”

You smiled, even if it was still a little sad. “Because I’ve dealt with it.”

“How?”

“Poured glitter into their new washing machine, as well as onto all of their clothes,” you admitted. “Stole the plate out of the microwave, took the hand pumps out of the soap, threw out the car wax from his cleaning kit. You know, just small things that will cause them a nuisance for a lifetime.”

Bucky felt himself laugh. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Don’t have to,” you smiled. “You know better.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You just shrugged, trying to ignore the sting in your heart. “It’s okay.” 

Bucky’s eyes followed you around the table until you sat back down in your seat. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry he didn’t know how good he had it.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks, Buck.”

“I mean it, Y/n. I know you loved him. He didn’t deserve you.”

You felt his words wash over you and settle into your bones. You’d been dealing with the break up on your own. You knew you didn’t have to, but it was easier. Simpler. But hearing him tell you that…it was worth its weight in gold. 

You tried your best to place that familiar look in his eyes as he looked at you. It wasn’t pity, or sadness. Well, maybe a little. But there was something else there. Something…more. You’d noticed it before but even then you couldn’t have given it a name. It was just…

Something More. 

Like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was trying to tell you something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud. 

“Want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I can-”

But then he gave you that smile that always made your stomach do a little flip. The way his lips curved in the corner on his mouth, a slightly sassy but genuine look in his eyes. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

With a grateful smile, you smiled and stood up. On the way out, Bucky helped you remove your lab coat before helping put on your actual one. From there, he waited for you to lock up before you finally reached his car and hopped into the passenger seat. 

You’d placed your new address into the car’s GPS and explained to Bucky why you had a new one. 

“Even if she hadn’t moved in, I wouldn’t have wanted to stay there on my own. Knowing everything they’d done together?” You shook your head. “I would have moved, anyway.”

Bucky seemed to adjust himself in his seat, one hand on the wheel as the other rested in between himself and you. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t tell the rest of us.”

You chuckled, already knowing what he was thinking. You knew you’d have to tell them eventually. And you would. Preferably in a place where they couldn’t all suddenly disappear on you or wouldn’t see the masked pain behind your expression which would only lead to more questions. 

You’d become friends with the team not long after you’d joined Shield. Tony had studied your work, produced in Shield labs and instantly had given you an offer to work with him on a permanent basis. Before you could finish spending the day thinking about it, you had orders from Hill telling you, you were to become the new resident Lab Tech at the Compound. 

You’d worked along-side Tony and the rest of his science team, fixed equipment for the team and eventually found a friendship with them all individually. 

Wanda had been the first one; she’d been looking for someone to talk to since Clint was out for the day for Training new recruits. The next had been Tony and Natasha and very soon after had been Clint, Bruce and finally Steve.

Steve had been away on back-to-back missions which resulted in him being one of the last. Within a week of him returning, you’d met everyone else since Tony had decided to throw a party. 

You had asked why, but Pepper had just told you that to Tony it was “just because” but she’d worked on a mission plan. Charity Gala. She’s planned the whole thing with Peter’s Aunt. 

It was at that gala that Bucky had first met your boyfriend. At the time, you’d both only been dating eight months. 

“Did you buy a renovation?”

You dug into your bag for your keys but nodded. “Yeah. It’s kinda been a nice distraction.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

You looked at him, a little offended. “I’m an engineer.”

“I know.” Bucky was still taking in the property. “I’ve met you. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Bucky had seen you build some of the most complicated tech in the world. A handful of times, even Shuri had been shocked and impressed. But he’d also seen you try and build a bookshelf from Ikea on your own. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got some weekends free.” Bucky told you. “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” 

You were taken slightly aback as you saw the smile on his face. But you smiled back anyway. He’d always had that effect on you. 

“Okay.”

The following six weekends were filled with stripping old paint, pulling out and replacing rotten floors and beams, plastering walls and securing the foundations. The building had been with the bank for almost thirty years. Nobody had ever wanted to buy it. 

You’d guessed it had been built in the forties, or thereabouts. A covered porch had been added on to equal the starting point of the front steps, the shutters on the front windows had either been missing or hanging on by a rotten nail so they were soon replaced. There were three matching windows set at equal distance from each other upstairs. One in the middle and one on either side of it – all facing the front of the home. The garden was overgrown to the point where wildflowers had over run themselves and probably created a new breed. 

The back was much in the same way; a covered porch, windows, shutters, and a larger back garden perfect for an allotment and space for kids or dogs to run around. 

Eventually, those six weeks turned into six months. 

You did what you could within the week and Bucky helped with the rest at the weekends. When Sam found out Bucky was helping, he pitched in, too. Though, he was more helpful when placed away from Bucky and at the other side of the house. That had been something you’d learned quickly. They worked well together but the amount of hours they spent arguing about how to paint…

It was safe to say you’d taped out their own spaces in the house and they were not allowed to cross the tape unless they needed a bathroom break or a snack. 

Wanda had been more than helpful on the days where they’d both decided to sneak past the tape and judge each other's work. 

“Hey, hey, hey, would you- Wanda, put me down.”

“Stay in your tape.”

After the first three months, you were finally able to go out and buy new furniture and return the rented ones. 

“Left a bit, left a bit.”

“We need to go right.”

“No, we need to go left.”

Wanda leaned over to you. “How long have they been like this?”

“Two hours. I have tried.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, watching as Sam and Bucky tried to take your new sofa inside. 

“Right, right. Now go up.”

“Up?”

“Yes, up?”

“What are you gonna do? Make it fly?”

Sam just started at Bucky. 

“Oh, for the love of-”

As you threw your arms into the air, Wanda laughed and started walking towards them. Eventually they dropped the furniture and she moved it herself. It fit through your door simply – just as you had expected before the double comedy act decided to take charge. 

Finally, after six long months of stripping, plastering, painting, repainting, rearranging, building, and everything in between, you were finally done. 

You and Bucky lay on the floor together, staring at the ceiling, your beers sweating with condensation onto the placemats. 

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“As much as I love my new kitchen, I think I’m just gonna order in. What do you want?”

“Where are you getting it from?”

After twenty minutes, you and Bucky had decided on a place and ordered two pizzas with a side of fries. “Half an hour. Right.” You stood from the floor. “I’m going for a shower. You can hop in after me.”

Bucky was glad your back was turned from him since he could feel the heat spread across him. 

“Why?”

“Because you stink.”

You heard him laugh. Since day one, you’d never held back from telling him what you thought. It was one of the things he loved about you. 

Upstairs, you turned the shower and stepped inside only to watch the dust and paint flakes fall down with the water and into the drain. Twenty minutes later, your hair was washed for the third time that week – white paint from your skirting boards following the suds of the shampoo. 

And then Bucky walked up the stairs. 

As he reached the top of the staircase and turned his head down the hall, he called out your name. 

“Shower’s free! Just getting dressed!”

“Hey, uh, I-I left you something downstairs. Feel free to open it!”

“Really? Okay.”

Bucky smiled before walking into your bathroom and closing the door but leaving it cracked open slightly. The steam was still leaving the room and he couldn’t open the window just yet. 

However, what he didn’t notice as he carefully got undressed was you walking down the hall. Fresh in your pajamas which consisted of an old t-shirt and shorts, you towel dried your hair except in the defogging mirror in your bathroom, you caught a glimpse of Bucky. 

Naked Bucky. 

His back was turned to the mirror, his muscles lightly flexing as he moved to draw back the shower curtain and step into the shower. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest or how your legs unconsciously clamped together as you looked at him. 

But as the curtain was drawn back, hiding him from sight, you took in a small breath before hurrying down the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room. 

You were thankful Bucky was in the shower at that moment in fear of him seeing and knowing what the embarrassed and heated look on your face meant. 

The image you’d just witnessed, it was safe to say, was burning into your mind. 

It was the knock on your front door which startled you out from your daydream about Bucky and the way he-

“Hey, two pep- Matthew.” 

What should have been the pizza guy with your pizzas was your ex. 

“What the fuck?”

“Please, please just hear me out,” he begged. “I am so sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have slept with your best friend but I thought that was what I wanted. But-”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait! Please!”

His hand landed on the door. “Please. I-I thought that was what I wanted but these months apart have made me realise something.”

“Look, I don’t know how you found me but please leave.”

“I’m still in love with you, Y/n. I always was. And I’m ready for more, if that’s what you want.”

Down the hall, you heard your name being called. But Matthew didn’t. 

“I should never have cheated on you, but I promise I never will again. It was good, right? You loved me? I loved you.”

“Please leave.”

“I will spend everyday making it up to you because I realised, I am worthy of you. Please, just give us a chance. I promise-”

In the space of about three seconds, you saw Matthew’s face change from begging to terrified and shocked at the same time before the door you were holding onto tightly opened wider from behind you. 

Then you found yourself met with a freshly showered, completely naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist, Bucky. You felt the heat spread across your entire body as you tried your best to not make it obvious how you were trying to remember the moment for a lifetime. 

The definition of his muscles, the way his arm flexed as it remained on his hip, the metal arm behind you, holding the door securely. The way the beads of water dripped down his neck and tracked down his body and into the top of the towel. The way his eyes burned with a kind of darkness you’d only ever seen in him when he was ready to attack, but somehow still remained soft when they fell on you. 

“Holy-”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I-I-I came to get Y/n back.”

“Oh, really?”

You felt yourself smile up at Bucky, for more than just the reason he was making your ex crap his pants. 

“Y-Yes. I’m worthy of her.”

“You’re not worthy of shit.”

Matthew tried his best to ignore Bucky as he turned back to you. “Please. Y/n. I’m ready. Just come home with me.”

“I have a home. A new home. Very, very far away from you.”

“How did you even find this place?” Bucky asked. 

Matthew had to look at him and eventually spat out that your ex-best friend had seen your car turn down the avenue a few weeks back when she was heading to work. So, he looked out for it and hoped for the best. 

It was in a sudden motion Bucky’s right arm reached out and held Matthew up by the scruff of his collar. “You’re gonna forget you ever learned this address and leave Y/n alone. Do I have to repeat myself, or are we clear?”

A clearing cough came from somewhere behind Matthew. 

The pizza guy. 

“H-hi? S-Sorry about the wait. They’re working on the road at the top of the street so-so I-I had to double back.Two pepperoni?”

You nodded and the guy told you the price that had been exchanged over the phone. 

“Thanks.”

“I hope you resolve…whatever this is. Bye.”

Hopping back on his pizza scooter, he headed towards his next address. 

Matthew finally looked back at Bucky who’s stare hadn’t left him since he picked him up. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, Matthew.”

“But she still loves me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” 

That much had been made clear to Bucky over the last six months. He watched you put whatever anger and sadness you’d bottled up and put away into how you’d pulled out rotting beams and how you stabbed and yanked dead weeds from the ground with all your might. 

He also saw it in your quiet moments after that. How you built yourself a home without any reminiscence of Matthew or your ex-best friend, how you found freedom and love in what was around you and how you let yourself date again. The dates didn’t last too long but they always ended mutually – not one sided. 

“She does.”

You practically rolled your head with your eyes. “I really don’t.”

Bucky just smirked. 

“B-but what about our life together?”

“The one you torched when you fucked my friend? Yeah,” you heard yourself laugh. “That will never exist.”

As you went to walk away, leaving Bucky to deal with Matthew, he called out. 

“You can’t seriously be fucking him?”

Turning on your heel, you looked at both of them. Bucky seemingly didn’t react. Until a sliver of unrecognisable courage came pouring forward. 

“And what if I am?”

Bucky reacted to that. Not that Matthew noticed. 

“Not that it’s any business of yours,” you added. 

“But-”

“Goodbye, Matthew.”

As you walked into the kitchen and laid out the pizzas, it was a few minutes before you heard a cry from Matthew, followed by a crash of plywood from the skip that was ready to be collected the next day. 

Finally, the door closed and Bucky walked back into the kitchen, towel still around his waist. 

Walking out from your laundry room, you took the last mental image of a practically naked Bucky, standing in your home, looking sun-kissed and all kinds of handsome. 

“You left some clothes here the last time you stayed over.” Standing in front of him, you handed him his clothes. 

“Thanks.”

Taking them from you, Bucky smirked as he caught your gaze scanning his entire body. 

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze flicked back to his, acting as if you hadn’t just been checking him out, but the heat on your face gave you away. 

“Good.” You smiled. “Actually, really good. Kinda shocked me when it was him and not the pizza guy- thank you, by the way. For dealing with him. I’m sure there’s some speech I should give you about threats of violence but it was nice to see him scared after everything he did.”

“Clearly he didn’t get a new washing machine.” Bucky held up his hand, small flecks of glitter on the palm. You laughed. 

“You can’t escape it.”

Bucky chuckled, too. “Guess you can’t.”

It was in the silence that followed, your hand holding onto his from when you moved it to see the glitter, that you saw that look in his eyes again. That something more look. He’d looked at you like that since the beginning. 

For a while you thought that was just how he looked at people. But you saw the way he looked at Steve and Sam and Natasha and Wanda. You saw the way he looked at strangers on the street as they walked past him, you saw the way he looked at kids when they walked up to him and asked for his autograph, you saw the way he looked at reporters when they asked about the 40s or asked a question he didn’t like. 

You saw the way he looked at everyone else. 

And then there was the way he looked at you. 

Something more.

You felt yourself step forward a little as he dropped his hand and held onto yours. It was a subtle difference. The way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he spoke to you. 

It was his turn to step closer. 

Carefully placing his clothes down on the kitchen island beside you both, his other hand reached out for you, brushing the hair from your eyes. 

And for a rare moment, you shocked him. Usually, he knew everything with you. It was rare you had to actually tell him something. He spent that long looking at you, it was almost as if his gaze could stare directly into your soul and know what you needed. 

But this. 

This he didn’t see coming. 

No matter how long he’d hoped for it. 

You kissed him. 

And for a moment he was still, feeling your lips against his. Then it was like he was brought back to life. Feeling your hand in his, he squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. Finally, he kissed you back. His hands came to hold your face as he stepped into you, his kiss matching yours. 

In a few turns, your back was against the counter of your kitchen island, your hands sending goosebumps throughout him as they trailed down his chest, sides and held him closer by his neck and back. 

It wasn’t long before he lifted you onto the counter and your legs spread open for him to step closer. Slowly, the kisses peppered away until you were both left gasping for breath, feeling his forehead against yours. 

“Shit.” Bucky eventually breathed, a small laugh escaping him. And you giggled, holding him closer. 

“You better get dressed before you give my new neighbours an exclusive.”

Bucky looked behind him, realising you were both in a semi-clear view of the blind-less windows. They were getting delivered and installed on Monday. For now, you just had curtains and the panels on the windows. 

Then he looked down. The towel was slowly coming loose from his hips. Then he swore for a different reason. 

“You might have to give me a minute.”

It took you a second to realise what he was talking and blushing about. Then you tried to hide your laugh. “Either you put on some shorts or you give my neighbours an original welcome to the neighbourhood.”

Bucky gave you a look before looking around. Finally, grabbing his clothes, he surprised you with a quick kiss to your lips which made you smile and distracted you enough to let him go. Behind your kitchen island, he slipped on his shorts before removing the towel. 

“Thought I might get a show.”

Bucky gave you another look. “I’d rather save that for when it’s just you and me, doll.”

You hummed, your arms coming back to his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

A shorter silence came over you both as Bucky looked at you again. 

“What? What is it?”

You just kept looking. 

“You’re looking at me like I’ve got two heads.”

“You always look at me like that.”

“Like you’ve got two heads?”

You shook your head. “No. Like I’m…something more. I’ve noticed it for a while but I don’t know…why do you look at me like that?”

Bucky just smiled, already knowing what you were talking about. “Because you are something more, doll. You’re more than something more to me.”

You searched his face for what felt like hours, trying to decipher his cryptic message until it finally clicked with you. His message hadn’t been cryptic at all. It had been staring at you, quite literally, for years. 

Bucky watched as the expressions changed on your face; trying to find his meaning, wondering if you’d found the right one, convincing yourself it wasn’t possible, coming back to your original conclusion, accepting it though not fully, hoping it was true, not wanting to embarrass yourself if you were wrong, being certain you were right, and then not, until finally you’d found the courage to ask him if you were. 

And he just smiled. Freely, and without hesitation, he answered. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n. That’s why you’re more than something more to me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You already had someone.” Bucky said, a little defeat in his voice. 

“Had being the key word.” 

He smiled and looked back at you. “I didn’t want to rush things. We…we both needed time.”

Unconsciously, your body moved closer to his touch as his hand traced down your arm before he held onto your hand. Fingers danced around each other before he finally pulled your hand close to his lips and kissed your knuckles, then your palm, and finally your inner wrist. 

Finally, your head touched his. Eyes closed, breaths taking in and let out in sync. 

“I am in love with you, Y/n. I have been for a long time and I don’t wanna rush this.”

You leaned up and looked at him. “Then we won’t. Like you said, we both needed time. And, Bucky?”

He looked at you, again. 

“You’re more than something more to me, too.”

Then he smiled, that genuine if slightly sassy grin. “I know, doll.”

[starmapz]

what are some of your favorite sukuna fics or authors?

hiii nonnie!! i'm super behind on my reading so i'm definitely gonna miss a few here but off the top of my head, here are some faves 🫶 please be sure to check out each author's rules :))

multichap fics:

controller by @yenayaps - modern!kuna x f!reader forbidden office romance, i love the dynamic between the reader and sukuna and the dynamic of the itadori family, they're both so well done and i adore her take on sukuna. i binged this so hard this weekend!! definitely check out her whole sukuna masterlist as well

pour it up by @madamechrissy - strip club owner!kuna x f!stripper!reader, i love sukuna's lowkey obsession with reader and eat up each of these chapters. the smut is so delicious

no. one party anthem by @indiewritesxoxo - childhood fwb!kuna x f!reader and rockstar!geto x f!reader, sukuna is so petty and so emotionally constipated and i love him for that <3 suguru is WAY too hot for his own good and i can't wait to see where indie takes this series!!

an uninformed narrative by @retiredteabag - stardew au!! i never knew i needed this tbh, i'm absolutely in love with adventurer!kuna already, he's so done with reader LOL 😭

mama, i'm in love with a criminal by @cinnamorollcrybaby - suuuuch an interesting series of snapshots of criminal!kuna and his relationship with reader, i adore the deep dive into his psyche and the ending!! oooh it's so good ((this also fits the jail!kuna ask i got last night))

jealousy, jealousy by @cinnamorollcrybaby - best friends to lovers smau series, i'm so down bad for this kuna tbh. i highly recommend checking out all of cinna's best friends to lovers series, they're phenomenal <33 (the suguru one has my whole heart)

oneshots/drabbles:

me and the devil by @yenayaps - modern sorcerer!sukuna x f!reader, i think about his transformation scene in this on the daily tbh

kunafamily by @kashverse - a series of drabbles surrounding papakuna, reader, and their hilarious little daughter. i'm seriously in love everything about them is so sweet

ex-convict!sukuna x academically burntout!reader masterlist by @soleilapproves - a series of oneshots and drabbles surrounding the pairing, i love the world sol's created with them <33

veni, vidi, vici by @emphistic - gladiator!kuna x princess!reader, need i say more?? i'm such a sucker for a historical au and this one is soooo good

knock (her) out by @screampied - boxer!kuna x f!reader x boxer!toji, this is fr some of the hottest smut i've ever read it makes me drool

waiting room by gojotojis (ao3) - bff!sukuna x reader, devastating angst 😭 left me sitting there with my jaw on the ground

coffee breath by @cuntyji - barista!kuna x reader, coffee shop au, light angst. so sweet and i adore the setting, i love the idea of sukuna getting a more calm life as a barista

pornstar!sukuna hcs by @webism - obsessed with abby's pornstar au tbh, i highly recommend checking the rest out too <3

first time? by @kamitv - virgin!kuna x reader smut college au oneshot, the characterization is soooo good here and the smut is HOT

so i know who i'm looking at by @fushitoru - ghostface!sukuna x reader, and it is HOT. absolutely delicious smut, plus ghostface and kuna?? it's chef's kiss

worst behavior by @kunareads - sukuna x f!reader, kuna looooves when reader's pissed and the smut is toooo good, i love dom!reader sm

i'm sure i'm missing more than i can count but off the top of my head these are some of my faves <33 please send these authors some love!!

[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it in.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

previous work (hq boys take you to a party) | next work

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[waynes-multiverse]

Already so in love with the start of this chapter! A girl who can eat is a girl after my heart 🫶 (and apparently Russell's lol)

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room.

Girl, you and I have the same headcanon about this! He needs someone with super weird food habits 😂🫶

And I loved her then suddenly trying to get rid of him and coming up with the lamest excuse in the book before threathening him lol. Glad he saw right through that! And this made me melt 🫠:

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving. “Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

Oh, and it is a mafia thing! 👀 Phew, that's a tough job for Russell (not that I doubt his abilities, but she is right – he's only one man. You're not planning on breaking my heart, are you? 😅)

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.” “You have sauce all over your shirt.”

Oh, he got real lucky there, didn't he? He must've loved this 😂😂

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

I'm so in love with this characterization of him here! Behind all the goofiness and bad flirting still hides that smart killing machine, and you portray that so well throughout their entire conversation 🖤

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy.

I love reading more of her backstory, and obviously Russell can relate since he grew up similarily. I see some romance brewing and bonding happening here 😍

You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

Knowing her, I don't see this working out well for Colter. Poor guy will have his hands full with her 😂

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.  “Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

I don't mind this at all 😏

The commitment to him being shirtless on this show is for real, tho 🫠 (And PS: I saw you wrote for Colter too! I totally have to check that out! Justin Hartley had me in a chokehold since This Is Us. He rows right into the "lovable and stupidly hot idiot" category that I've fallen victim to lol.)

And not only did she bond with Russell in this part but also with Colter. Seriously loved every minute of their conversation! And considering Russell sent her to his brother, who he hasn't spoken to in so long, speaks volumes how much he trusts Colter. Colter seeing that too was such a precious moment 😭🫶

Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…

Agree! The ruggedness and roughness (the beard) certainly adds a few plus points 🔥😏

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down.

I was gonna say, she should be careful with that challenge, and his answer did not disappoint! It was gold 🤣🤣🤣

And I totally didn't expect her to stay with Colter for days, drive across the country, and join him on a case! This is such a cool twists and I'm loving their hangout dynamic 😁 I do have an inkling Russell will be jealous of their bonding and probably scold Colter for taking her on a case lmao

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.”

Ooooh I know you read the books and this reminded me so much of the crew book!Russell worked with!!! 👏

I was so relieved when he came back in one piece! And that little present for her was so sweet and thoughtful 🥹 The note, on the other hand, was hilarious 😂

But why the angst at the end there? No they were supposed to be happy! Sunset, rainbows, unicorns, glitter!!! I will suffer in the next part, won't I? 😅

This was such an amazing chapter from start to finish! I thoroughly enjoyed all their conversations, their dynamics, the humor mixed with seriousness and feelings. Loved every second of this! 🩵

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[rosenclaws]

Heey! I think your requests are closed, but when you open them, do you think you could write about Logan (any variant) with a reader who has a bad relationship with food? I kinda need the comfort right now, I have to eat to survive, but I hardly ever want to eat, and when I do I feel guilty about it, specially if it's not something super healthy or low cal.

I think Logan would be a really good partner and show support, make sure his partner eats well or doesn't slip meals and even cooks for them :')

Hi! Absolutely I can, I understand what you're going through and I want to know that you're loved and you have my full support <3 I picked origins Logan for this, he just gives off the softest vibes and would be a completely supportive and sweet partner. It's a little short and I apologize but I hope it helps <33

warnings: eating disorder/bad relationship with food, please don't read if this would possibly trigger you

Logan could tell something was off from the moment he walked through the door. His stomach rumbled as he smelled whatever delicious meal you were making for dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw you pulling a pan out of dinner. Lasagna, his favorite.

"Smells fucking amazing," He purrs as he wraps his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He still smells like pine needle and dirt from work. Normally he doesn't get back till way past dinner time but today was an easy day. How lucky he gets to eat dinner with the love of his life huh?

"Logan! You scared me." You huff as you gently push his arms off your body.

"Go clean up dinners almost ready." He frowns as you shoo him away.

Lately things have just felt off. You smiled and laughed like you always do but there were little things that just didn't feel right. Especially around meal times.

"Okay sweetheart, I'll be right back." Logan can't help but wonder what could possibly be wrong.

Are you sick? Is something bothering you? If so why wouldn't you tell him? Worries start to invade his thoughts. What could be going on that you can't even go to him about it? After a quick shower and a change of clothes he heads back to the kitchen. Only to see one plate of food sitting on the counter.

"I made it with the sauce you like, not the off brand one." You say with a smile but Logan's worry remains. He sits at the counter and takes the plate.

"Where's yours?" He asks. Your face falls for just a second. Anyone else would have missed it but not Logan. Not when it comes to you.

"Not hungry." You try and play it off, pushing the plate closer but Logan grabs your wrist.

"Logan, I had a big lunch. I'll eat later." You try and tug out of Logan's grip but he remains firm. Never enough to hurt you but enough to keep you there. To keep you from running away.

"I don't believe you. In fact, I've barely seen you eat anything in the last couple months."

The memories come flooding back. He's seen you eat, but its never much and it's always healthy. Shame starts to creep into his bones as he realizes he's failed to put the pieces together. All this time.

"Please sweetheart, whatever is going on you can tell me." Tears start to well up in your eyes as Logan speaks.

You never meant for him to find out. You thought you could handle this on your own. You had been so careful and eat just enough so that he never caught on. But the truth is you're exhausted. Food is nothing more that a means to survive. Everyday you force yourself to eat just enough and no more. Its been exhausting. Especially if the food you eat is too many calories or just plain unhealthy.

Logan almost jumps across the counter the moment he sees the tears, fearing the worst. He abandons his dinner in favor of wrapping you in his arms on the couch. Cooing softly as you cry and explain everything to him. He doesn't say a word, he just listens. Rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt with tears.

When you're done you prepare for the worst. What if Logan leaves? I mean it would certainly be easier for him to not have to deal with. All of this. But he doesn't. With gentle hands he cups your face and dries your tears.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles. Sorry that he didn't notice sooner and sorry you've been carrying this for so long.

"Are you mad?" You ask quietly.

"No, of course not." Logan presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen honey, this isn't healthy." He knows that you know that but its not as easy as just a flip of a switch to change habits that had been built for years.

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way alright?" He says, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He wants you to know that he truly means every word.

"Okay," Logan pulls you into a tight hug, whispering sweet words over and over. He wishes he could take all your pain away in an instant. He'd bear it for you without even asking, but he can't.

But he stays true to his promise. Logan is there when you need him, to remind you to eat and taking it upon himself to make meals for you and with you. Some days were harder than others but Logan carried the weight you couldn't.

Things still aren't easy, but with Logan by your side you think you might be able to do anything.

[ronearoundblindly]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + “Sir, I think you misunderstood.”

I'm SO HONORED, you have no idea. 🧚‍♀️👸🏽❤️🪄🧚✨⚡️❤️‍🔥🧚‍♂️

*While this follows Super-Human Resources as a story, it is not necessary to read that to understand. Reader is female and 'older' but no specifics about her body or age are given. For context, you believe that you and Steve are f***-buddies and nothing more (he does not believe that).

Summary: Steve is more eager to than you realized...

A shameless fic deserves a shameless gif, don't you think? **Warnings for smut: unprotected sex (established consent/relationship) in a semi-public space, oral (m receiving), horny gremlin!Steve, and not a whole hell of a lot of editing utilized, folks... MINORS DNI. There's all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist, but not here. WC ~2k

Busy.

Busy day. Busy week. Busy month really, if you stop to think about it, but you can’t stop right now. There’s work to be done. Agents to clear, trainees to make agents, and it’ll be done as soon as you file these…

“Shit,” you mutter as Maria Hill is about to take the documents from you. You were almost done with this closed-door meeting. “Rogers hasn’t signed off on them yet.”

For the tiniest of split-seconds, Hill looks annoyed, her eyes half roll while she sighs. “He’s been just as slammed as all of us.” She doesn’t seem thrilled by the chaos of spring either. Say what you will about seasonal depression sucking, but there is a notable uptick in enemy aggression once the weather warms.

Does that make winter less crazy? No. What it does is make the internal workings of the Compound go bonkers until everyone can fight out there. In HR’s case, winter is the worst and busiest time. Busy. Busy. Busy.

Your off-hours understanding with Steve Rogers aside, there are few seasonal bright spots beyond actually liking your job.

You dial up Rogers’ number. It rings only once before he answers.

“Yes, ma’am, what can I help you with?”

He’s so sweet with you in private, and though diligent about keeping work strictly professional, you imagine you can tell the barest of warmth laced into the words.

“Sorry to bother, Captain—“

Hill slaps down a new file you’ve not seen yet.

“—but I need you—“ you cover the mic with your palm, whispering ‘and what’s this?’ but she waves you off “—to come down and…hello?”

The dial tone starts again.

“Hello? I think he just hung up on me.”

Hill simply shrugs. “Maybe even he’s at wit’s end,” she muses. “Just bring the rest to my office whenever, but I’ll need a review of this contract. The lawyers approve, but if you ask me they kept the wording too technical. We need a—let’s say a nicer spin on it.”

Fine. Toss it on the pile. In fact, that’s exactly what you do, move it from corner A to corner B of your desk.

Above you, Maria makes a shocked sort of chirping noise.

“Cap! You scared me there.”

“Sorry,” Steve huffs in the doorway, arms braced on either side of the frame. “Sorry. Sorry, I just—“ clearing his throat “—was already on this floor when you called, so…I’m here.”

His stealth training with Natasha really paid off. There was zero sound when he came in.

“Right, well, if you could—“

Steve holds up a finger. “Actually, I have something to ask…to discuss with…”

“I’ll bring them by your office later,” you offer Hill.

She nods and leaves, none the wiser to Rogers speedily (and silently) locking the door behind her. 

You push out your chair to greet him, but Steve rounds the desk before the seat even rolls past touching your calves.

“I need you, too,” he husks, big hand gripping your waist, maneuvering you back against the wall. His mouth finds the tender spot below your ear immediately. “‘m glad you called.”

Oh.

Oh wow, he’s—

“Love when you wear these.” Steve drops to one knee, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt and over the thin shield of your pantyhose.

He does love him some nylons, cheeky boy.

Good thing your office blinds were already closed, or the whole cubicle pool would see Captain America six inches from your crotch with a hand sneaking up your thigh.

“Sir,” you whimper in the suddenness of his desire, “I think you misunderstood.”

A flicker of questioning darts across Steve’s features.

“I actually just need you to sign those,” you clarify with a wave to the desk.

“Oh.” Steve presses his head into your leg for a second. “So not…?”

“Sex? Here? No, not what I called for,” you chuckle.

He gets up from the floor, looking embarrassed and guilty, a bulge in his pants betraying how seriously he intended to take you right there. It has been two weeks since you’ve gotten to sleep over. He was away on mission last weekend and who knows when he’ll be called up again. Shame to let that enthusiasm go to waste…

“But,” you drawl, creeping forward, your hand cupping him gently.

He stirs so easily at contact. Steve’s always been eager to ‘practice,’ to build prowess in knowing the female body, and he’s used yours to do it, but you never expected him to whine in desire.

Without waiting for more encouragement, he lowers his mouth to your neck again. “Yeah?” 

His fingers use their rough friction to nudge your skirt up over your hips until he can run one digit along the waistband of your stockings.

You feel the fabric in your palm stretch tighter. Steve twitches.

“It’s okay to do this,” he breaths, “even if it’s uncalled for?”

The spider-walking of his touch down your stomach is deliberate. He’s giving you time to tell him you’re not interested or this isn’t the place, but you are, in fact, pretty interested and do not care if this is the place.

When no response comes as he finds your mound, Steve drags one finger through your folds. He lets a hot sigh roll across your skin in satisfaction of discovering the slick spot he can stoke back to life.

Ever since he first asked how he could please you, it’s been about Steve wanting to learn a woman’s pleasure, but his desire always seems incidental. He’ll come anyway. He’s getting off in addition. You get that; it’s the whole deal, but there are other lessons Steve, in particular, could learn. One of them is that he can be the focus, too.

Instead, he’s focused on holding back, apparently, because he bites his lip and doesn’t lean into your hand. He doesn’t pull away either. He moves to slip two fingers into you and curl them.

This leads you to a theory of why, though you’re surprised to have the brainpower. “Have you not…touched yourself in weeks?”

Steve grunts in annoyance. “I didn’t think it would be that long.”

“So—“ keeping your voice silky and sweet “—no need to edge yourself after all that.”

“Edge?” he asks.

Lessons, lessons, lessons.

“It’s called ‘edging’ or ‘delayed gratification,’ yeah.”

You can practically hear his thoughts as his eyes roam your body. Should he stop? Should he continue? Should he tough it out and wait the few hours till the workday is done? Steve is the type to think of denial as the height of self-control, so you don’t know which side he’ll land on when he’s needy with his finger on the button of satisfaction.

He can have it all, and he can have it right now. You tentatively roll his tender balls to prove a point, but that seems only to make his inner conflict worse, his brows knitting together, strained.

Until it doesn’t.

“No,” Steve says, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, staring at you feverishly. “No, I don’t want to delay anymore.”

To put him out of his misery, you offer your help, pulling his hand away, rolling down the layers in his way until mid-thigh (look, hose are a bitch to take off and put on, so at work, you’re improvising), and bending directly over your desk. Head turned to the side, you watch the shadow of him stepping up behind you, lowering the fly of his slacks and pumping his shaft until he’s hard.

All in total, it takes four seconds or so, but the performance of breaking the man’s character down to a lustful mess plays out an entire scene.

Steve squats down slightly to roll his cockhead through your folds and thrusts shallowly. The delicious stretch and rising fullness make your eyes flutter shut.

He’s always worth the wait. You’ll miss this when he’s done with you.

His feet spread apart as he kneads your ass and opens you wide.

“So good,” he groans. “Did you think of me? Did you touch yourself thinking of this?”

“Yes,” you gasp on a deep thrust.

If he’s expecting more words, he’s not getting them, not when the drag of him inside and out pools all your attention like a tide away from your brain.

The afternoon sun’s angle shows the silhouette of Steve stretching tall so he can fuck toward that spongy spot sending tingles all over your body, but just as soon as he sets a rhythm, he pulls out.

“Uh, no,” he moans, gripping his dick like it’s hurting him, “’s why I wanted my mouth on you first…so…so close.”

Steve’s ready to cum within minutes of sinking into your pussy. That’s a boost to your ego if there ever was one. However, he needs release, and from the look of his blown pupils, he needs it to be as intense as possible. He needs connection not just physically.

If Steve desires a more connective experience, you’ll have to give him eye contact.

Mirroring his starting position, you drop delicately to your knees in front of him, head inches away from your desktop.

“Oh god,” he whines from somewhere deep in his chest, but his eyes never leave you while your hand replaces his. 

The first brush of your lips sends him lurching forward to grip the poor particleboard behind you, and you do blink long and languid at the musky taste of him.

His mouth hangs open, too, as you bob, taking only a few inches each time, focusing on the sensitive head. You make the tip of your tongue firm and pointed to draw patterns along veins you know by heart. His hips buck against his will, and though you can’t teach it him without words, this is called ‘fucking your face.’

It’s delightful to see the hazy blue of his eyes soften in wonder. It’s validation itself to hear him praise the sheer perfection of you.

“Shit,” Steve moans, “I—I—“ but he breaks off in a euphoric (and loud) exhale.

Cum begins to flood your throat and mouth, and there’s a rustle of something knocked over above you. A soft wad of tissues tucks under your chin just as the overflow breeches the corner of your lips.

“Too long. Waited too long. Sorry, should have warned you,” he admits brokenly. It is significantly more than usual, you note.

Steve pulls out to finish coming in his makeshift pad and tries to bat the box closer to you for more.

You rip out a few to spit in.

All-in-all, you’re pleased to have such a wild affect on a man, and Steve is not just any man at that.

He takes all the tissues and buries them under some papers in your trashcan. He collects himself, zipping his dignity back into place while you shimmy up your tights and panties.

Steve then pulls you into his chest, leaving a gentle kiss as the last taste on your lips. “I’ll give you back threefold tonight, okay?” he assures, low and intimate. “Sorry, I got…overexcited.”

He releases you from the hug.

“Well, I’ll only be there at a decent hour if you sign these damn papers, Captain.”

Steve looks confused, eyes darting to the stack he luckily did not tip off the edge of your desk. It takes another four seconds for him to remember that there was a real reason he was called.

“Yes, ma’am, right away, but also—” he scrunches his nose “—I’m just going to crack this because—“ Steve doesn’t bother completing the thought. He simply props the window open at the lowest notch. Across the small room, he stares at you smoothing a hand over your hair, beaming.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Goofy. Honest. Adorable.

“It’s a good line, Cap,” you chuckle then double tap the stack of forms.

He rushes over, ever the fast-learner, ever the eager participant, ever ready (usually) to get down to business.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

Thank god it’s Friday.

a/n: is it acceptable?

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

@Supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @stellar-solar-flare

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 14: valentines day

A/N: Yes this is super late and I know it's not February anymore, but my mind wasn't cooperating much in Feb and I do have partially written, waiting to be finished fics/ficlets for all of the days, so this year we're *extending* February. How long for though - nobody knows.

---

Secret Valentine (AO3)

Probie!Buck x 118!Tommy

---

You think you're invisible but you're not. I see you and I think you're wonderful. Love, your valentine.

Tommy looked around, trying to make sense of it all.

"Did you do this?" he asked Sal, holding up the card.

"Do what?"

"This!" he shoved the card in Sal's face.

He pulled a face as he read the message and looked at the puppy holding a rose and "be my valentine" in the front.

"Why would I send you a valentines day card?"

"I don't know, to fuck with me? Make me think there's someone out there who wants to date me and then laugh at me when I fall for it?"

"That's a good one actually. I should remember that for next year." Sal said, flicking the card back at Tommy and closing his locker. "But it wasn't me."

"Who was it then?"

"How should I know? Maybe it was Howie? Or one of the girls? Maybe someone from B-shift? Maybe a member of the public dropped it off for you?"

"Then how did it end up in my locker?"

Sal shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess someone could have put it in there for them?"

"Without telling me?"

"You'd find it eventually, wouldn't you?" Sal shrugged again. "Hey probie, do you know anything about the card in Tommy's locker?" he asked Buck who had just walked into the locker room too to change at the end of their shift.

"What card?"

"That's a no then."

Tommy held up the card.

"This was in my locker. Did you see anyone put it in?"

Buck shook his head.

"I've been busy all day. I haven't been in here since the start of shift."

Tommy sighed and looked at the card again.

"It's kind of cute. With the puppy." Buck commented, nodding at the card. "Or don't you like dogs?"

"Uh no I do... I like dogs just fine. I just don't like pranks like this."

"Maybe it's not a prank? Maybe someone actually likes you and they're too shy to say it."

Tommy snorted.

"Yeah right."

"The kid is a romantic, Tom, not a cynical asshole like you." Sal joked and swung his duffel over his shoulder. "I am going to spend my 48 off with my wife. It's our last valentines day before the baby arrives and we're going to make the most of it. And I'm not going to think about any of you until the minute our next shift begins." he gave Tommy a mock salute as he walked past him out of the locker room.

"It's him. I know it's him." Tommy told Buck. "Maybe he got Gina to do it... But I know he's playing a prank on me."

"Why are you so convinced it's a prank? I think someone out there actually really likes you."

"Those things only happen in movies probie." Tommy said, shoving the card into his bag and closing his locker. "Real life doesn't work that way."

He walked out of the station to his car, mostly annoyed at Sal for not owning up to his prank.

It wasn't like they hadn't played pranks on each other before, and Sal was his best friend, he could take a fake valentine's card from him.

If only he'd just admit it.

He debated calling Gina to see if she knew about Sal's prank (and get her on his side and pressure Sal into coming clean. She was six months pregnant, Sal wouldn't dare argue with her) but when he got to his truck there was some kind of paper stuck under the windshield wiper.

For a moment he thought it was a ticket and he tried to figure out what possible laws he could have broken while parked outside a fire station, but upon closer inspection it turned out to be an envelope. One with his name on it at that.

He opened the envelope and inside was another card.

It was a simple card with a teddy bear holding a love heart saying happy valentine's day on the front.

Drive safe, the roads can be dangerous and I like you in one piece. Love, your valentine.

It was cute but he was also getting more annoyed with Sal. One card in his locker was enough.

He looked at the message in the card again. He had to admit it didn't look anything like Sal's handwriting. Or Gina's.

Maybe they got someone else to write it for them. And unsuspecting neighbour maybe.

He put the card in his bag with the other one, and drove home, planning on ignoring both the cards and the upcoming holiday.

His 48 off might as well have been a full shift with how busy he'd been catching up on chores around the house, as well as drinks with his brother and his team to celebrate his divorce going through.

And yeah maybe he'd had a few too many and was still recovering when he clocked into work at the start of his next shift.

Though he was nothing if not a professional so he forced some breakfast down and got on with his work.

Thankfully the 911 gods were on his side and no calls had come in all morning, and by midday he had finished most of his jobs around the station and figured he deserved a nap.

The alarm would wake him if any calls came in.

He dragged himself to the bunk room and crashed onto his bunk without looking or even bothering to take his boots off.

He tried to get comfortable but there was something under his pillow bothering him.

He shoved a hand underneath to get rid of whatever it was, whatever the guys had put under there, but frowned when he felt something plastic. It crinkled and it felt like a bag of sorts.

He sat up and pulled it out. In his hand was a small gift bag with a tiny card hanging from the ribbon tying it shut.

Here are some sweet hearts for a sweetheart. Love, your valentine.

"What the fuck Deluca..." Tommy muttered under his breath. He turned the bag over in his hands. It seemed like a regular gift bag just about every store sold around this time of year, and didn't look like it had been tampered with.

He opened the bag and shook the candy hearts out into his hand. They looked like every candy heart he'd ever seen. Just plain pastel coloured hard candy hearts with "Be Mine" on them.

He popped one in his mouth and hoped not even Sal was cruel enough to give him candy with laxatives in them.

After what felt like only five minutes the station alarm woke Tommy up and he rushed down to the truck bay on auto pilot. He stepped into his turnout pants and boots on muscle memory and yanked on the coat while all but throwing himself into the truck.

He was the last one in but hardly late.

"Nice of you to join us, Thomas." Sal joked.

Tommy rolled his eyes and put his headset on.

"Fuck you Deluca." He shot back and Sal laughed. "Just drive this thing and tell me where we're going."

"Structure fire on the east side of town. The abandoned warehouses."

He got assigned to work with the probie when they arrived on scene, which suited him just fine. The kid had good instincts.

The whole crew worked together to clear the warehouse that turned out not to be so abandoned after all.

A group of homeless people had set up camp in the place and it was filled with blankets, cardboard, and all kinds of trash. The whole thing was about as far from fire safe as it could get.

Thankfully there were no casualties and only a few people with minor smoke inhalation.

They were doing a final sweep of the building to make sure they hadn't missed anything and all fires were definitely out.

"This is probably what started the fire." Buck commented, putting out a small fire in the makeshift kitchen with the foam extinguisher he'd brought along.

"Yeah the whole place is a death trap." Tommy agreed. "It's a miracle everyone made it out alive." he looked around, satisfied there didn't seem to be any spot fires or anything smouldering. "I think we're done here, let's go." he turned around and took a step and the second he put his foot down, he knew he was in trouble. The floorboards gave out and he felt himself fall. Only the expected crash onto the floor below never came.

"I've got you, I've got you." Buck groaned while trying to drag Tommy out of the hole in the floor. "Almost there."

When Tommy's brain registered what was going on, he did his best to help Buck pull him up.

With one last big effort, Buck hauled him onto solid ground and the two of them collapsed into each other.

"You ok? Are you hurt?" Buck panted.

"I don't think so. Thanks to you." Tommy pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Nice reflexes." he patted Buck's shoulder.

"T-thanks." the other man stammered. "I didn't think... I just... did."

"I'm glad. It would've been a long way down if you hadn't." Tommy said and gave Buck's shoulder a squeeze before letting go.

Buck blushed slightly and ducked his head and Tommy couldn't help but think he looked absolutely adorable.

He was as out and proud as he could be at work, and he wasn't blind. He'd always thought Buck, Evan he reminded himself, was a good looking guy, but he wasn't going to make a move on a coworker, especially not one he wasn't sure was actually into men.

He'd resigned himself to just admiring the guy from afar.

They made it back to the truck without any more trouble and the ride back to the station was quiet. Everyone was tired, and when Tommy checked his watch he realised they'd been working the call for most of the afternoon.

"Well done everyone. I'm taking us offline for an hour." Bobby announced over the comms. "So we have some time to clean up and power up for the next call."

A murmur of appreciation came through the comms as reply.

As soon as Sal had parked the truck, the crew piled out. They kicked their gear off in the bay, ready to step back into for the next call.

"I need a shower." Tommy announced to nobody in particular.

"Do you want me to wash your back, dear?" Sal teased.

"Not today sweetcheeks, I have a headache." Tommy replied with a grin and headed to his locker to grab his shampoo and a clean towel.

There was nobody else in the showers so he enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to share the water pressure with the rest of the crew and scrubbed the soot off his skin.

He cleaned himself up wrapping a towel around his waist when he was done and making his way back to the lockers to get dressed.

Only when he walked in there, he almost ran right into Buck.

"Oh... s-sorry." he stammered. "Di-did you have a nice shower?"

"Sure. Had the whole thing to myself." Tommy replied. He felt the other man's eyes trail over his body and for a second he wondered if he'd missed the signs and Evan Buckley was into men after all.

"T-that's nice. I uh... was looking for laundry. Do you uh want me to take your towel?" he held out his hand.

"Give me a minute to get dressed." Tommy grinned. "I wouldn't want to flash you. Not at work anyway."

"Oh. Oh. Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I'll uh... I can turn around."

"It's alright. It's only been used once. I'll just hang it up to dry."

"Oh yeah. Ok. Sure. Sure thing. Yes. I'll... I'll just... go... and let you get dressed."

Tommy smiled as Buck ducked out the locker room.

Maybe he'd ask him out some time. Take him to a club and see if he could make him blush on the dance floor too.

He grabbed the bag with his toiletries to put his stuff away and frowned when he saw a note that definitely hadn't been in there before.

It was just a simple page from a department issued notebook, torn out and folded in half.

I know valentine's day is all about secretly admiring someone and anonymously telling them how you feel, but I want you to know who I am. Just for that tiny chance that you might actually feel the same. That you see me too. That you like me too.

I made reservations at Micelis under your name for this Friday at 8. I hope I'll see you there.

I'll be the one with a red rose.

Love, your valentine

"Jesus Deluca." Tommy muttered. "That's a lot of effort for a prank."

That Friday, he arrived at the restaurant almost 15 minutes late. He'd talked himself in and out of going more than once, but in the end decided a free (because there was no way in hell he was paying to get pranked) dinner with his best friend wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. And maybe he'd go to a bar or a club afterwards. Maybe Sal would want to come along. He could be an asshole sometimes, but he was a good wingman and could usually help him get rid of idiots and get with the guy he did like.

They had a routine that had worked for them since the academy, back when Sal was the only one who knew Tommy was gay, and they only went to gay bars in other cities so they wouldn't risk running into any familiar faces.

"Hi, reservation for Kinard. I don't think my friend is here yet." he told the waitress when he walked in as he looked around for Sal.

"Oh you're here!" she said happily. "We were starting to think he'd been stood up. He's been here since 7.30"

Tommy frowned, wondering why Sal would be there that early when he'd said the reservation was at 8.

He followed the waitress to a table and audibly gasped when he saw not Sal but Evan Buckley sitting at the table, fidgeting with a red plastic rose.

He stood up and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey, you came."

"Just fashionably late." the waitress joked and put two menus on the table. "I'll be back in a minute when you've made your choice, can I get you a drink in the meantime?"

"Uhm just water for me, thanks." Buck told her.

She nodded and gave Tommy an expectant look.

"Oh uh... Just a beer. Whatever is on tap."

"Coming right up." she said happily and all but skipped back to the kitchen.

"You... you left the card in my locker?" Tommy asked as he sat down at the table.

"Y-yeah... uh ... surprise..." Buck said and blushed. "I uh... didn't know how else to get your attention."

"You... wanted my... attention?"

"Yeah... I... I... I like you. Everything I wrote in those cards is true. I just... I didn't know if you were interested and... I uh... was kind of... afraid of asking you out. But then... I thought we had a... uhm... a moment... On that call a few days ago."

"When you saved me in the warehouse."

"Y-yeah... so I just... kind of... stole a notepad from Bobby's office and wrote you that note while you were in the shower. And hoped you'd show up tonight."

"I thought it was Sal playing a prank on me."

Buck bit his lip.

"No. It was me. And it's not a prank."

"I didn't know you were into guys." Tommy said, still trying to process the information.

"It's... new... I guess. I didn't know either. Or... realise. I thought I was checking you out in the gym because of your work out routine... But then I talked to my roommate and he uh... made me think about some things. Like that most straight guys don't check out another guy's ass. " Buck confessed and he was bright red.

"You've been checking me out?"

"Sorry. I'm making it weird. I always do that. I'm sorry. Just... forget I said anything."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Wha-what?"

"I didn't expect to see you here... But I'm not complaining."

"Y-you're not?"

"Evan look at yourself. You're hot, you're adorable... for some reason you like me... If I'd known you liked men I would have asked you out ages ago."

"Really?"

"Well... I don't know if I would have had the nerve to ask you out... but... maybe I would have pushed myself to be brave for a change.

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy confirmed and smiled when Buck put his hand on the table, clearly hoping Tommy would reach out and take it, which he did and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles.

"I was so scared you would turn me down... Since... since we work together and I'm still in my probie year and..." Buck trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say.

"The LAFD doesn't have to know everything." Tommy said after a beat. "We can just... keep this between us for now can't we? Just... enjoy each other's company and see where things go."

Buck smiled.

"Yeah... Yeah ok. That... that sounds nice." he licked his lips and took a deep breath to say something, just when the waitress came back with their drinks.

"Have you come to a decision yet?" she asked in the same happy tone of voice as before.

"Yeah." Tommy said and got up and he saw the brief flicker of panic spread over Evan's face and he realised the other man thought he was leaving. He stepped round the table, leaned down, put two fingers under Evan's chin and gently tilted his face up so he could kiss him. "Was that ok?" he asked after and Evan could only smile and nod. "Good. Because I'd like to do that again."

"I... I would like that." Evan stammered.

"God you're adorable." Tommy murmured and leaned down for another kiss

[e-dubbc11]

Such a Flirt

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader; supporting character Sam Winchester

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ please or I’m telling on you) fingering, oral, p in v protected sex (be safe out there everyone), couple of swear words, love confessions

Word Count: 3.3K-ish

Summary: Dean and Sam ask for your help getting information from a bartender at a local bar. You’re a smooth talker and can get info from anyone but Dean hates having to watch you flirt with handsome men.

A/N: Fair warning, there’s only a little plot with this one. I really just wanted to get to the smexy time. I had the strongest urge to write some smut for this smexy son of a bitch, I don’t know why but I’m just very much in love with all things Jensen Ackles right now(I’ve watched Tracker, My Bloody Valentine, and started watching season 3 of the Boys again plus random episodes of Supernatural) I can’t wait to meet him in October! I hope you like this one!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Dude, why are you grinding your teeth like that?” Asked Sam.

Dean’s eyes were fixated on you as you flirted with the bartender. You were trying to see if he knew anything about a man who was in the bar a couple of days ago.

Later, the man couldn’t explain why he had beaten his girlfriend to death after being seen in the bar with a beautiful woman who was definitely NOT his girlfriend.

“Does she have to flirt so hard with that guy?!” Growled Dean. “He’s not even that good looking!”

Dean angrily took a sip of his beer and continued to watch you like a hawk.

Sam rolled his eyes, pressed his lips together in a straight line and tried to continue talking about the case with Dean but he was more interested in what you were saying to the bartender.

“She’s trying to get information for us, Dean. Relax.” Said Sam.

The boys didn’t always need a third “FBI agent.” Sometimes they just needed help getting information from the opposite sex. Men were a lot freer with their words with you rather than the “feds.”

You mostly hunted on your own but they would call you from time to time when they needed your…”wits,” so to speak. Plus, you liked to watch Dean struggle with his feelings for you and you very much liked him back but it was fun to make him jealous.

**********

Before leaving the bunker, you had asked, “What kinda bar is it?”

“What do you mean what kind? It’s a bar, y/n.” Answered Dean.

“Ok, I realize that, Dean but is it a biker bar, a country western bar, one that doesn’t have a theme? I need to know what kinda clothes to bring. I threw a whole bunch in my car, I’ll bring the one outfit I need, and pick up the rest back here before I head home.” You replied.

Sam was already on his laptop doing research so he did a quick search and found the bar’s website online.

“Looks like it’s quite the nice place, y/n. Reviews say it’s an after work hot spot for bankers, real estate brokers, professionals, etc.” Said Sam.

You replied, “Soooooo a little swanky, but don’t dress like a high end call girl, got it. You guys will fit in perfectly wearing your FED suits.”

You decided to go for the “classy attorney” look but without a blazer. A Kelly green fitted silk blouse, black wide-leg pants that had black studs on the seam, and black ankle boots. Your perfectly chosen outfit, paired with a black structured tote bag seemed like impeccable choices.

Eat your heart out, Dean Winchester.

While they were out eating lunch, you did your hair and makeup. You didn’t do this super girly stuff very often but you liked…feeling pretty. The times that the boys needed you to turn on the charm and bat your long lashes to get information, were really fun for you.

Drawing on your black winged eyeliner after having a little too much coffee proved to be difficult sometimes but you were a professional and could probably do it with your eyes closed if you needed to.

A medium tone matte eyeshadow and a bold lip completed the look while a strobe light like highlighter emphasized the high points of your face.

Satisfied with your look, you watched a little tv before changing clothes. They would be back soon to pick you up for drinks after they talked to the local cops.

While in the bathroom, you heard the door open and Dean called out to you.

“Y/n?! You better be ready; we gotta go!” Said Dean.

You emerged from the bathroom fully dressed with the exception of your shoes.

“Ok, ok keep your shirt on, Winchester. I just need my boots.” You replied.

After slipping into your boots, you picked up your bag and finally had a chance to look up. For once, Dean’s brow wasn’t furrowed and you could see his hypnotizing green eyes much better which caught you off guard.

“What is it? Do I have something on my pants?” You said, gazing down at your pants then turning in a circle with your head over your shoulder, trying to look at your own ass.

Dean was speechless and couldn’t get any words out so Sam answered as he tossed a burger at you, “Nope, all good. Let’s go. You can eat in the car.”

They walked up ahead as you locked the door behind you.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? You were staring at her.” Said Sam.

Dean replied, “She looks too good, Sam.”

“Can you wrestle with your feelings for her another time? She’s supposed to look nice.” Sam said.

Nervously, Dean whispered, “Well she’s distracting! And I don’t have THOSE kinds of feelings for her.”

“Whatever you say, dude.” Replied Sam with raised eyebrows.

You covered your mouth so they wouldn’t see you crack a smile.

While riding in the car, you leaned forward so the boys could hear you better. Making sure he could feel your breath on his ear, you said, “You two can go in first, have a seat, and I’ll make my way in after a few minutes. You can keep an eye on me as I walk up to the bar.”

A sly smirk stretched across your lips as you slinked back into your seat and looked at Dean in the rearview mirror, trying his hardest NOT to appear flustered but failing miserably.

You could have made it easy and told Dean how you felt about him but he deserved to be on the receiving end of the teasing. Women made it easy for him, just falling at his feet which meant he had his pick and he hated every time you teased him.

And now, drinking at the corner of the bar, you could feel him burning a hole in your head with his angry stare. It appeared that Dean couldn’t take just sitting there anymore. Sam tried to grab hold of his jacket but he missed and Dean started to walk over to the bar when the bartender walked away to wait on someone else.

“I’m getting some good stuff, Dean. Get outta here!” You whisper yelled at him without looking and without drawing attention to yourself.

He nonchalantly whisper yelled back at you, “You’re being a little TOO friendly with him, don’t ya think?”

“I’m perfectly capable of weaseling information out of a dumb bartender. Now get outta here before I kick your ass all over this bar!” You growled.

“Need something, friend?” The bartender asked Dean.

A tad flustered, Dean replied with a narrowed expression, “Two more beers, buddy. Thanks.”

You got what you needed from the bartender and after another hour or so, you paid for your drinks and left. Dean and Sam followed you out a handful of minutes later.

“Can we get pizza?” You asked.

Dean was always in a better mood if he was fed properly so as a peace offering, you bought pizza on the way back to the motel. And of course, Dean picked up more beer.

Settling in with your dinner, you told them everything Jeremy, the bartender, told you about what he witnessed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn’t know the two of you were on a first name basis.” Said Dean.

You rolled your eyes.

“Will you let me finish, please!?” You asked.

“Dean…let her finish. Come on.” Said Sam.

Dean continued to pace back and forth while you talked.

“…So the woman that he left with, Jeremy had never seen before. And this guy hung on her every word, gazed at her like she hung the moon, she said all the right things. Almost like he was legit under a spell or something.” You finished.

Sam had his laptop open. His fingers swiftly typed words into the search engine and he then flipped the screen around to show you and Dean what he found.

“I think we might be dealing with another siren.” Said Sam, confidently. “Two other women were murdered by husbands or boyfriends after encounters with beautiful women at that bar. Sirens need love and they compel people to kill to show devotion to them.” He turned to Dean. “Remember that one we dealt with before? The time where we were trying to kill each other?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I remember. I try not to though.”

Preoccupied with Dean’s eyes, they had darkened a little to match better with the green shirt you had on, you covered your infatuation by pushing the chair across from you out from under the table.

“Take a load off, tiger. You’re makin’ me nervous with all this pacin’ around you’re doin’.” You said in between bites of pizza.

The Winchester brothers were your second family and you knew them well, especially Dean so you knew when something was really bothering him. And right now, something was definitely bothering him.

Sam’s face was buried in his laptop, it was quiet in the room except for the sounds of fingers moving across a keyboard, and the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Something about you being there was keeping Dean on edge so you finally decided to break the silence.

“Dean? Come on. What is it? You’re being extra grouchy right now, so grouchy that pizza couldn’t fix it. Ever since I walked outta the bathroom earlier, you’ve been short with me.” You said, calmly.

He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and traced the outside of his lips with his thumb and forefinger before narrowing his eyes at you.

You knew that look. The look of an extremely handsome literal green-eyed monster glaring at you from across the table. Dean was close to blowing a gasket.

He pointed at you and in his low gravelly voice said, “I don’t like it when you flirt with other men. There! I said it, ok!? You happy!?”

In one fluid motion, Sam closed his laptop, grabbed the keys to the car and said, “I’m gonna go talk to the cops again. Lemme know when you two work THIS out.”

You started to say, “O-ok, well just be—“

“Yep, I’ll be careful. I know what to look for. I’ll see ya guys later.” Said Sam.

The door closed behind him, the Impala roared to life, and Sam drove off, leaving you and Dean alone in the motel room.

“Well that was weird. Anyway…Dean, I’m just doing what you guys asked me to do! You needed me to get information, so I turned on my charm and I got what we needed just like any other time you’ve needed me for something like this!” You said with a raised voice.

Dean stood up from the table and loosened his tie a little. Unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt, he didn’t take his gaze away from you.

“You don’t have to be THAT good, ya know! They eat it up every single time! Lemme ask you this…did that Jeremy guy ask for your number?”

Seeing Dean this upset made you think that he didn’t just have a little crush on you.

Feeling a little warm, you unbuttoned a couple of buttons on your blouse and stood up also. You were reluctant to answer him but finally said softly, “Yes, he did.”

“HA! I fuckin’ knew it! They always do and did you give it to him?” Asked Dean.

You started to answer before he interrupted you, “Dean…”

“Did you!?” He asked again.

Not wanting to confess your feelings first, you tried to stall.

“No, I didn’t!” You shouted.

The table was in between the two of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, your jawlines tight with anger and frustration, and the sound of your heart beating inside your chest was deafening.

“Oh yeah?! And why should I believe you, y/n?!” Dean growled.

“I’ve never given any of them my number, Dean! Not a single one!” You bellowed.

His expression softened as he asked, “Well…why not?”

After a long day, you couldn’t help but collapse onto the bed. You allowed your legs to give out and sat down on the edge of the mattress before answering him.

“Why do you think, ya big dumb animal?! Because the only guy's number I want in my phone is yours, Dean! And Sam’s but for different reasons. You know what I’m trying to say, stop looking at me like that.” You said, nervously.

He walked around the table, gazed down at you with his beautiful green eyes, they were the color of fresh blades of grass, and leaned over to inch his face closer to yours. The sprinkling of freckles across his nose was so youthful and adorable. You swallowed hard as you felt his breath against your eyelashes.

“And why do you think I get the way that I do when I see you flirt with other guys? You know why, don’t you sweetheart.” He said, melodiously.

Dean’s lips were ghosting over yours. You were silently begging him to just kiss you and kiss you hard. All the tension that had been building over the years was coming to a head right now. His tie dangled down from around his neck, you were dying to just pull him on top of you and find out what he tastes like…all of him.

“Because you want me as much as I want you?” You replied, gently touching his tie.

Still holding his tie, you inched yourself up toward the headboard. Dean followed your lead as you removed his tie and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

“I want you more.” He purred into your ear before his perfect lips crashed onto yours.

Dean covered your mouth with his own, devouring you with every kiss he placed on your lips, neck and jaw. You won the fight to be on top, although you were sure he let you win, and you continued to unbutton his shirt while he grasped clumsily at the buttons on yours.

They were small so he was having a hard time with them until you stepped in.

“I’ll do them, baby.” You whispered as he haphazardly tossed his clothes to the side.

You stood up and let your pants fall to your ankles while you finished unbuttoning your silk shirt. His desire for you was very apparent by the large tent in his boxers that you felt against your core as soon as you straddled him. The bottom of the shirt brushed against his thighs and goosebumps peppered across his skin.

You decided to let him finish undressing you.

Dean’s hands gently pushed your shirt off of your shoulders and all that was left was the black lace bra that was barely containing your breasts that he could not wait to get you out of. The man was a pro at unhooking your bra with one hand. If you didn’t want him so badly, you would have stopped to give him shit for it.

He lightly nipped the skin down the side of your neck, making you gasp when he got to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You felt like you could have come just by him biting down on that sweet spot. The growing ache between your thighs was torture and you desperately wanted him to touch you.

Like he read your mind, his strong hands migrated from your breasts down to your waist. Reaching in between your thighs, Dean teased your entrance with one finger, then slid another inside with ease.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He whispered as a strangled moan escaped your lips.

To suffocate your screams, you bit down on your lower lip as he continued to move his talented fingers, hooking them in just the right spot to make you see stars, and drew circles on your clit to really tease you.

“Dean!” You pleaded, just before you hit your peak and tightly clenched around his fingers.

“You can be loud, baby. These kinds of places are used to noises like that, if ya know what I mean.” He said with a wink and a smirk.

You smiled back, pressed your lips to his, and lightly bit down on his bottom lip before starting to pepper kisses down his chest.

After pulling down his boxers, you took him into your mouth. A deep guttural moan and words of praise fled from Dean’s lips when your tongue circled the underside. That made him draw in a sharp breath as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, that feels good, sweetheart.” He hissed and mumbled something else incoherently.

Crawling up his body, he slipped on a condom and then as you straddled him, you replied, “My mouth isn’t just for flirting, Dean.”

He slid into you with ease, burying himself to the hilt, causing you both to gasp before he cut your moan short with a hard kiss. You circled your hips slowly, allowing him to go deeper inside you, and it sent sharp tingles down your spine.

You pulled him in close as your walls began to tighten around him, clinging to him like your life depended on it with your climax starting to build.

Dean’s body was a warm cradle for yours as his fast abrupt strokes were about to send you over the edge and fast. But he loved to look at you so he pulled away slightly and watched your pleasure surge through you.

As you were riding out one orgasm, Dean managed to pull another one from you as you loudly called out his name like no one else was around which made him feral.

His movements became faster, more brutal, pulling out of you just so he could slam into you again and again as his body went rigid underneath you. Crushing your waist, his arms were wrapped around you so tightly that all of the air escaped your lungs.

His release came hard and fast, followed by a strangled moan while your bodies trembled from overstimulation. Dean’s eyes were wide and unfocused as he tried to catch his breath while you leaned in for a gentle kiss and let your fingers glide through his soft brown hair.

Collapsing on top of him, you smiled against his chest as his fingers tickled the outside of your arm and the only thing you could hear was Dean’s heart beating rapidly against your ear.

Trying to get your breathing under control, you covered yourself with the sheet and finally managed to ask, “So…does this mean you don’t want me to flirt for information anymore?”

Dean kissed the top of your head and replied, “As long as you come home with me, I’ll allow it.”

“ALLOW IT?! You’re not the boss of me, Winchester.” You said, sarcastically.

He licked his lips as you looked up at him through your long dark lashes.

In barely more than a whisper, he said, “Well what if I told you you’re really pretty and that I might be…in love with you?”

“Awww…you’re really pretty too!” You said, jokingly.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Alright, I’m tryin’ to—“

Wrapped up in the sheet, you sat upright, cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, your tongue slipped into his mouth to tangle with his as a low growl escaped his lips.

“I might be in love with you too.” You whispered against his mouth.

Chasing each other’s smiles, he continued to kiss you until you heard a key in the door. Sam walked in, took one look at the two of you and without missing a beat said, “Oh good, you two worked it out. So I was thinking, I might know who—“

He stopped, looked at the two of you and shouted, “Guys…that’s MY bed!!”

You and Dean started to laugh.

Oops.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @deans-spinster-witch @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[oceansoul001]

So it's been around two weeks now since I've finished Kingdom Come Deliverance 2, and to tell you all that there has not been a single day that I haven't thought about this game would be such a big understatement. Cause I'm not sure there has been a single hour that I'm awake that I haven't thought about it. And it's so weird! Let me explain.

I mean, it's not atypical for me to be fascinated by a piece of culture, be it a game, a movie, a tv series, a book, whatever. But this, this is something else, on a completely different level, and for the love of everything I just can't explain it! Maybe two weeks it's still super fresh, maybe it's because I'm now still playing the first KCD, what keeps me within this world, but I find myself constantly going back to thinking about it, about the story, about the characters, and most of all of course about Henry & Hans, and how special they feel to me.

It is particularly weird with Henry, because he is this strange amalgam of a written character and a player character, a sort-of-my-avatar in this world, but at the same time quite defined. I cannot compare this balance to any other game protagonist really, every other (that I know of) was either one or another, with my preference being always the custom character with some defined characteristics - meaning custom looks and gender, even if the backstory or a general vibe was not changeable (like, let's say, a Dark Urge in BG3 is for me a custom character, even if some crucial parts of them are well defined). But Henry's not like that, he always looks like Henry and sounds like Henry. At the same time, the flexibility of how he can react to the world is wider than with a typical written character. And even if within the game story we cannot actually change or influence what happens, generally the same things in the main plot always happen to my Henry and to your Henry, I think we can still differ in interpretation, what it actually means for MY Henry, and it can differ from what it means for YOUR Henry. And neither of us would be incorrect.

Some people might compare this maybe to the Witcher series, which is probably the closest, yes, but for me it's still completely different. I never WAS Geralt in my heart in any game from the trilogy. I played as Geralt, I made some choices, I picked a romance, I was immersed in the stories etc, but it was always the same Geralt to me, one and established character, not MY character. Maybe because he was first and foremost the book character in my head, and much later a video game protagonist, so it might feel different for other people, but I never had with him this weird fluid feeling of being him and not being him when I played the games. And I have it with Henry. I don't know if it makes any sense at all to anybody beside me.

And with Henry, it feels different, it feels as if I partially were Henry, when I played; I would not ask myself "Hmm, what would Henry do in this situation", it was rather "What would I do", with me being Henry at that point. With me taking over the emotions that my Henry would feel at a given moment. This again might feel as a regular thing for some people, who immerse themselves easily into defined protagonists, but it is not typical for me. And I tell you more - I have this... Thing... That it is much more difficult for me to find my own voice in a male protagonist. I can love them and root for them, of course, but it is like watching a movie or reading a book. Not "becoming" them when I'm playing as them in a video game.

I'm this kind of RPG player that always, like ALWAYS, plays as a female character, if I have a choice. I've never thought about it much, or why it's that way, but it is something I am very conscious about. And with Henry it's somehow different, it's like the way he is written and presented leaves still a place for me to blend in somewhere as well, despite the fact that he actually has an unchangeable face and an unchangeable voice. ...Or maybe it is partially because of that? Meaning that Henry is NOT your 'typical male video game protagonist', thank gods. But it cannot be just that, as there are definitely more characters in other games that do not fall into this category as well, and they don't leave me with the same feeling Henry does. I cannot explain it any better I'm afraid, I just feel this special connection between myself as a player and Henry as a protagonist that I have not felt before. And it makes him so, so special to me.

With Hans it is much easier to explain of course. Everyone loves Hans. He is funny, and witty, and cocky, and caring, and emotional, and vulnerable, and yes, he is sometimes self-absorbed, but he is also this pure, naive idealist - I LOVE the part when he says to Brabant that the role of the nobility is to protect the people they rule over, because I know that he genuinely believes that! He is this type of character that I always feel the need to protect, even if he doesn't need it actually at a given moment. Like in the framework of the game, when I AM Henry, I would gladly carry him over any puddle, so that he always stays safe, and warm, and comfy, and I would die for him no questions asked at any given point, even if it meant like the worst possible game ending for me as a player. Have I already mentioned that I love Hans?

But there is also one more layer, the layer that in my head is simply labeled as "Henry&Hans", together. And this is probably THE weirdest part to explain from all of this babbling. But I've got to try. So generally, when it comes to romances in fiction, I would say that yes, I enjoy a good romance, I really like when it is part of a story, I root for characters that I like to get together. But I rarely think about it outside of enjoying said fiction. I am usually not much of a shipper, don't read fanfictions, don't download fanarts, etc. I am now trying to recall when was the last time that I was really, like REALLY invested in a fictional ship, and I don't know, I think it might have been in 2017, when The Last Jedi premiered, and I was immensely angry that Rey and Kylo Ren didn't get together. It was freaking 8 years ago!

It is a bit different when it comes to romances in video games with customizable protagonists, because in that case I don't only expect to be immersed, I demand to be immersed, so to speak, if this is supposed to work. I need to feel something, anything, to be engaged in a romance that I am supposed to be an active part of, meaning choosing a character to romance, picking dialogue options, enjoying interactions, etc. And it happens quite rare. Most of romances in video games are just an additional mechanic of a sort, and choosing "I am going to romance this character" is not much different than "I am going to buy this ship/horse/base", or less harshly "I am going to make all squad mates loyal to me", not necessarily because I like all of them equally, but because it is possible within the game, so why not.

The video game romances that truly got to me were of course mostly the ones that had some good writing behind it, or great acting, or an interesting angle. I loved my Astarion romance during my first BG3 playthrough, because it ticked all the categories mentioned above, but also something beyond that. And I never loved any other of the romances from BG3 to the same degree, even though most of them are truly great and I really enjoyed playing through them. I loved my Solas romance in DAI (and in DATV even), because it was so different, it mostly wasn't even there so to say, like it was probably the least of romance content possible to even have a romance, but it touched something in me. And... No, that's that, that were the only ones that I had feelings and emotions about as a me-player, not just as a character I am pretending to be. Up till now.

So, with Henry&Hans romance, to jump from one digression to another digression, because who is reading all this at this point anyway, for quite some time I didn't even know, and later didn't fully believe, that is in the game. I started to play KCD2 around two weeks before it premiered, and all I've heard at this point was that there is potentially some gay romance that some people were rioting about, but I didn't even care much. You see, coming back to my previous notes about not being really immersed into male protagonists, because I am not male, it was always the same, or even more true, with romances - I was actually really immersed only into romances where I can play as a female character and I can romance a male character of my choosing. Because that is how it works in my life as well. Imagine my surprise when I'm playing through this medieval simulator about some guys engaging in some politics and shit, not expecting that this is soon going to be one of the most important games in my life, and then suddenly getting smitten by these two. It was when we got to Trosky, I remember it clearly, and they told me that I have now twelve bell tolls to save Hans. MY HANS! I mean, not mine at that point, really. At that point what I felt was probably sadness, because I was sure, oh I was so sure, that they would never let us romance Hans, are you kidding me? Like two main characters that have a history together, that are actually connected to one another throughout the whole story? With Hans being present in the game as his own, fully fledged character, with his own story arc, being already our best friend? Not being in the game to serve the one purpose of being a romanceable character? And to top it all, with like two guys?! I believe I am quite media-literate, so to say, have consumed my portion of different arts, and I just know it won't happen, it can't happen. It would be a contradiction to everything we have known so far. This kind of ships happen only in our imagination, in our fanfics, in our fanarts. So I didn't even dwell on it much.

And then came the ride to Nebakov, the first in game moment when you see this dialogue option with a heart icon next to it, and what the hell, am I just imagining things? I kid you not, for the next week my mind was living in this prison of "are they fucking Hans-baiting me; I won't forgive them if they are", because I simply couldn't believe that this is actually possible, that this could be our romance option, a meaningful one!

So it was probably all of the above, finally a meaningful romance, not just something slapped on a game with a plot as a separate thing, finally a meaningful character, not a "romanceable character", but a main character with a possible romance, if you get what I'm trying to say. A character that I've already started to love. And with this incomprehensible thing of me becoming Henry when I'm playing, it clicked. It clicked as nothing else ever did in the fiction that I've experienced so far.

And now I'm sitting here, a woman in her late 30s, not queer, thinking about these two fictional guys and their fictional love, like every day, and what it means to me as a person, and I just can't!!! The weirdest feeling ever. But a wholesome one, I think.

Thank you, if for some reason you've decided to read through this, I promise that I am not crazy, or at least I thought so up till this point. Now... not so sure. I needed to vent it all somewhere, somehow, and this is probably like the only place on the internet where I won't feel very bad about spilling it all out.

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ crybaby | sam winchester x reader

inspired by the song crybaby by searows

a/n - soooo i know i said my first fic back would be a smut fic but i’m a big fat liar and i’m posting this instead. i don’t think it’s amazing but it’s super self indulgent and after feeling shitty all week this is the result but the main thing is this is my first fic since november so whoop whoop!!

cws - fem!reader, 1.7k, established relationship, hurt/comfort, post-argument, crying, insecurity, unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

The pillow was cold and wet beneath her cheek from her tears. It was oddly comforting against the flush of her cheek. She’d always had obvious tells when she cried, it was something she hated. Her face would go red and her eyes would go puffy and there was simply no hiding it. People either asked what was wrong or pretended not to notice. She struggled to know whether people who didn’t ask did it out of sympathy or something much less kind.

Her red face and her puffy eyes and the glaring neon sign above her head that read crybaby was why she hadn’t left the safety of the bed, curled up under one of the blankets. The thought of Dean or Castiel seeing her so upset made her embarrassed to even think about, made her curl up tighter under the blanket as she blinked through some more tears.

Most of her crying had passed, no longer was she sobbing or shuddering through breaths that didn’t feel deep enough. Just some stray tears that slipped out of the corner of her eye, over the slope of her nose until it either fell on the pillow or it tickled against her skin too much and she wiped it away. Part of her wondered if it looked cinematic enough, that one stray tear. Did it make her look pretty? Movies had a knack of making pain look like art.

Sam knew she’d been crying, of course he did. He was the reason why she was curled up in her tears and misery in the first place. It really wasn’t often that they fought, neither of them could bear it. But she’d been struggling all week, a cloud over her head and a weight in her chest that wouldn’t shift, and Sam really had just been trying to help. But she’d felt smothered and snapped, and he’d gotten defensive, which turned into an argument that ended with him leaving to get some air and her sobbing into her pillow.

Sad didn’t seem like an apt enough word after the culmination of how she’d felt that week and the fight on top of it. It was a wonder she’d managed to stop crying at all.

The door creaked open behind her and she didn’t move, just stared at the wall she was facing as she blinked through another film of tears over her eyes. Sam didn’t like leaving her alone after they fought, how much he cared even when angry with her felt honestly undeserving. It made her want to break down again.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, almost nervous. She didn’t need to look to know he hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Are you asleep honey?”

She debated on pretending to be asleep just to wallow in her own misery for a little more, but she missed his touch and was selfish when it came to his comfort so she breathed out a soft, “No.”

“Can I come in? Or do you want to be left alone for a little while longer?”

The way she sniffled miserably felt like answer enough but she responded anyways. “No, no I don’t. Please come here.”

Embarrassed, she hadn’t turned to face him. Her cheek smushed into the pillow she fought with her trembling lip and watery eyes, hating the way just his presence was enough to set her off again. All of the anger had simmered away and just left guilt behind. It hadn't been his fault that she felt so awful.

“Alright, sweetheart,” his voice was so soft as he spoke. She heard the door click shut and a moment later the mattress dipped behind her, the familiar weight of him settling on it behind her. “You’ve got me, I’m here.” His arm curled around her waist and he pressed himself up against her back. The contact was so soothing that she just sighed as he got settled, flush against her until all she could feel was the comfort of him wrapped around her much more efficiently than her blanket. His hand crept underneath her shirt until his large palm cupped her ribs, rubbing over the skin that was only for his eyes with the pad of his thumb.

The contact was so soothing that tears were building again almost straight away. After a long miserable week the last thing she’d wanted to do was fight with her soulmate, it felt like a blessing that he’d come back to her so quickly. It was such a relief that she supposed that was where the tears had come from. Her hand reached for the one he had against her chest as he held her, and squeezing tightly she breathed out all shuddery. Patient as ever he didn’t say anything, just gave her the room to breathe through her tears, comforting her in silence. What a skill it was for him to know her so dearly.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually murmured into the comfortable silence that they’d built for themselves. “I just… I’ve had such an off week and I shouldn’t have shouted at you I’m really sorry, it’s— the last thing I wanted to do was—”

Her voice started wavering again and he shushed her gently, planting a kiss against the back of her head. “You were overwhelmed,” he murmured softly. “You were overwhelmed and I was smothering you, right?”

She hesitated before nodding, a second wave of relief at just how well he knew her head and how her brain worked. It was often the case that Sam managed to rationalise her thoughts before even she could. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he murmured, a hand lifting to tuck her hair out of the way before he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. She swore her spine tingled as it travelled through to the bone. “But I also know that you didn’t mean to shout at me, you were just stressed.”

She sniffled again and nodded, rubbing at her eyes before giving his hand another squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Sam.”

“I know,” he cooed, voice so soft it felt like a caress against the back of her neck. “I know, honey. I love you, okay? We’re perfectly fine.”

“I love you too.” She whispered, lifting his hand up to her mouth so she could kiss his knuckles, sealing her devotion with the press of her lips.

“There’s my girl,” Sam hummed, a few more kisses pressed to the back of her neck. “Can you turn over for me honey? I miss your pretty face.”

She huffed a breath into the pillow where she leaned a little more into, not moving. “I don’t look pretty right now I look like a crybaby.”

“Hey,” she didn’t have to be looking at him to know that he was frowning, she could hear it dripping off of his tone. “Don’t say that, you always look pretty, you look like my girl.”

Something about the sentiment made her heart flip in her chest and it warmed her enough to give in, sighing as she shuffled enough in his arms to roll over, blinking through any remaining tears to look up at him.

She watched in real time as he took it all in. The puffiness of her eyes, the flush on her skin, the wetness that still cling to her cheeks. Predictably, it didn’t deter him. He just sighed, a large palm cupped the side of her face as he stared. “Oh sweetheart,” he sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead as she nuzzled into the warmth of his hand. “My pretty girl. Can I kiss you?”

Her nod was automatic as she fought more tears. Something about the gentleness and adoration in his tone even when she was like that stirred up a feeling that lodged itself in her throat and made her eyes sting. She wasn’t sure it was possible that anybody had ever been loved as strongly and dearly as Sam loved her.

His thumb swept under her eye and caught some lingering wetness as he leaned in, and the press of his lips to hers was so delicate that it made her breathing shake as she exhaled against his mouth. The kiss was soft, as loving and careful as Sam was in his entirety. There was no lust or desperation lingering beneath the surface, it was simply sweet.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled back with one last final peck to her mouth. “You have no idea how dear you are to me.”

“Think I have some idea.” She smiled, earning one in return. She could’ve studied the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as his lashes kissed for hours.

He simply hummed as he stole another kiss. “We’ll go and get something to eat in a little while, okay?” He murmured softly. “But I thought it’d be nice if we read for a while.”

Nothing sounded better than being curled up in his arms and read to so she smiled as she nodded her head. “Sounds perfect to me.” She planted a kiss to the side of his neck just to seal the words in.

“Perfect.” Still smiling, Sam reached for his tattered copy of Frankenstein on his bedside table. It had been their reading pick for the last few days though they’d read it a few times together before, it had actually been the first book he’d read to her so it held a certain amount of sentimentality to it. She got settled against his chest and watched as he opened the book, one hand in her hair and one hand free to hold it up as he started reading. His chest rumbled beneath her ear with every word spoken, his voice and touch so soothing that she had to smile as she settled against him and listened to the story. She wasn’t sure that she could think of a better heaven.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list pls send me an ask letting me know what fics you’d like to be tagged for <3

@samsblades @angelicjackles

[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 1: Courting Rituals

I’ll Do (Anything for You)

Ao3 Link

This is a part of the Tell Me ‘verse! This fic takes place during Tell Me (Just Enough), but can be read as a standalone fic.

“So,” Eddie starts. They’re sitting on his couch, and he’s holding Steve’s hands. This feels strangely like an intervention, and Steve’s getting nervous.

“Um,” he says. He thinks his hands are getting sweaty. He knows he’s probably scenting something awful. “Yeah?”

“Nothing bad,” Eddie promises. “Just. You know you didn’t get to be courted the way you deserve.”

Steve softens. “Eddie, I don’t care about any of that. I have your vest, I have your bite-”

“No, I- I know, sweetheart. I know you got used to getting less than you deserve and I know this is normal to you now, but I will never stop trying to make you understand that just because that’s how it was doesn’t meant it’s how it should be. Because how it should be is you should have a whole lot more gifts than you do. I gave you the vest because you ripped up your shirt to make bandages, darling, not because I like the way you look in it. Though,” he grins, “I do like the way you look in it.”

Steve sighs. “So that’s it? You’re going to court me? And I get no say in the matter?”

“Um.” Eddie squints. “Do you… not want to be courted?”

“Well,” Steve draws out, which means he does and is being a little shit about it. Eddie grins. “If you’ve already decided, then there’s no reason for me to care either way, is there?”

Eddie chuckles. “Just you wait, baby, I’m’a blow your socks off.”

Steve chuckles back. “I can’t wait.”

“First things first,” Eddie says, and takes off a ring, “Steven Elias Harrington, I’ve come to state my intent to formally court you. By accepting this ring, you will be accepting my courtship. I will swear, as your Alpha, to always keep you safe, healthy, and happy, to the best of my abilities. I will swear, as your Alpha, to provide for your every need and want. I will swear, as your Alpha, a safe place to lay your head at night, and a safe place to rear any and all pups you may want. If this pleases you, then please, accept my first token, so I may begin courting you.”

“Why the fuck am I crying,” Steve wonders, laughing at himself even as he takes the ring. “Of course I’ll accept your courtship, Eddie.”

Eddie, kneeling on the ground in front of the couch, does a goofy little fist pump and reaches for a tissue for Steve. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “Good tears. Come cuddle me?”

“Always,” Eddie agrees immediately, clambering onto the couch behind Steve.

Steve relaxes back onto him, letting out a sigh and going boneless. “Y’know something?” He murmurs.

“What’s that?”

“You feel just right. The couch hurts my back a little, no matter what pillows I add or take away. But you fit every bump of my spine perfectly. ‘S like I was made for you.”

“I’m choosing to believe you were,” Eddie murmurs. “There’s gotta be some reason we’re scent-compatible.”

Steve snickers. “I guess so.” He snuggles into Eddie. “Tell me?” He asks quietly.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him immediately, whispering it into the nape of his neck.

“Baby,” Eddie calls, skipping into the Harrington house one day. “I’ve got something for you!”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie frowns. “You don’t sound too good, baby, are you feeling okay?”

Steve sniffles, shakes his head. Grabs a tissue and blows his nose. “‘S just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t doubt it, sweetheart, but why don’t we get you in bed? I’ll make you Wayne’s trailer park-famous chicken noodle soup.”

“Don’t wanna be in bed,” he says. “‘S boring.”

“Then how about we camp out on the couch? Make a quick little nest here, I can grab some things from upstairs for you, and you can convalesce on the couch where you can watch movies. Does that work?”

Steve considers it, then nods. “You said you have something for me?”

“Ah,” Eddie says, “yes, right, here-” he holds up a bag. “I, uh, know they’re not super high quality, but… well, I know you get migraines a lot, and sunglasses are supposed to help. Is what I was told.”

Steve sniffles. His eyes look more watery than before. “Eddie,” he says, then doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with big teary eyes. Eddie starts to panic.

“Do you hate them? I can return them! I can- I didn’t spend that much, honest, and maybe it’s a shit courting gift but-”

Steve shakes his head, pulls Eddie into a hug. Scent-marks him. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie relaxes, supports him in the hug best he can. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “Now go sit down, baby, I’ll make you some food, okay?”

“M’kay.” Steve sniffles. “Is food gonna be part of courting?”

Eddie chuckles. “I guess it usually is, isn’t it? Do you want it to be part of courting? I had a plan for that, but if you’d rather skim through, we can do that too.”

Steve shakes his head. “I want whatever you’ve got planned.”

Eddie smiles, presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Then maybe this’ll halfway count,” he tells Steve. “Maybe when you’re feeling better I’ll stay the night. Maybe I’ll wake up before you, sneak downstairs, and make a full spread. What do you want? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast? Fuckin’… the little French pancakes?”

Steve giggles. “They’re called crepes.”

“Crepes, then.”

Steve giggles again. “Pancakes maybe?”

“Pancakes I can do.”

“Maybe… maybe we could have blueberry and chocolate chip?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, “I’ll give you anything in the entire world you could ask for, but blueberry and chocolate chip?” He shakes his head. “Now you’ve gone too far, baby, it’s turning into anarchy, seriously, blueberry and chocolate chip? Alert the media. Call CNN.”

Steve giggles into Eddie’s neck. “So… just blueberry?”

“Baby, I’d invent flavors for you if you said you wanted dragonberry. You want blueberry and chocolate chip? I’ll put both in the same damn cake if you want ‘em.”

Steve giggles again. “No, just separate.”

“I can do separate,” Eddie promises him. “Any other requests?”

Steve peeks out from Eddie’s neck to peer up at him. “Hashbrowns?”

“Oh, baby, now you’re speakin’ my language! Hell yeah we can do hashbrowns!” He grins at Steve’s giggle, then presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead, then one to each of his cheeks for good measure. “Now go sit down,” he tells the omega. “I’ll go grab nest things from upstairs. Anything in particular you want?”

“Robin’s flannel,” he says immediately. “And…” he bites his lip, worries it, shakes his head. “That’s it, I think.”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs. “Remember how I’d invent flavors for you?”

A giggle. “Yeah?”

“Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, I can get it for you.”

“There’s a black blanket? It’s really soft but it’s kinda near the bottom.”

“I know the one,” Eddie promises. “You want a pillow too?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not while I’ve got you to be my pillow.”

“Always,” Eddie promises, pushing him toward the couch and moving past it up the stairs.

He grabs the things Steve requested, then pauses, pulls his t-shirt off, pulls his undershirt off—a beat-up old faded black tank top— and puts the t-shirt onto a pillow.

He rummages through Steve’s pajama drawer, grabs a t-shirt that boasts something about the whitest beaches, and slips it on.

He makes his ways back downstairs with his bounty, handing over first the blanket, then Robin’s flannel. At Steve’s questioning look, he hands over the last two items. “My t-shirt on a pillow, for while I’m cooking, and my undershirt. It should have more scent on it, even if your nose is too stuffed up to really smell, this one should scent some.”

Steve’s eyes go big and watery again. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, cups his cheek, presses a long kiss to his forehead. “I think,” he murmurs, “there’s very little I wouldn’t give you already. And I think I’m only a little bit in love with you, compared to how I could be. How I will be.”

Steve nuzzles into Eddie’s hand in response, then leans back and gazes at Eddie with such unabashed love in his eyes that Eddie has to look away, has to head to the kitchen and start cooking, so he can blame the flush in his cheeks on the heat from the stove.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs in sing-song, peeking into his room. Steve’s awake, if just barely, light dappling over his back, eyes blinking in long, slow sweeps as he fights the siren’s call. He rouses himself a little, sleep-clumsily turns onto his side, humming at Eddie, who walks in with a little coo and kneels at the side of the bed. “Did I wake you?”

Steve hums again, extends a hand to grab at Eddie’s shirt; not to pull, just to hold, to anchor. “Eddie,” he murmurs, which both is and isn’t an answer. “Y’here.”

“I am here,” Eddie agrees, brows furrowing a little. “Have a bad dream, sweetness?”

Steve hums, fists Eddie’s shirt again, tighter. “Not… bad. Jus’… not good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eddie murmurs, petting over Steve’s fist. “How can I fix it?”

“Y’are,” Steve tells him, tiredly earnest. “Y’here.”

Eddie’s heart explodes into a million pieces. “I am,” he whispers. “I’ll always be here, if you need me.”

Steve hums, squints at Eddie’s neck, but doesn’t want to let go of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie does it for him, dragging his hand up first to kiss, then to slide over his scent gland.

“Y’scent different,” Steve mumbles. “More… flowery.”

Eddie chuckles. “I don’t think that’s me, baby.” He holds up a bouquet. “I think it’s your next courting gift.”

Steve smiles blearily at them. “Never gotten flowers before.” He kicks his way out of his blankets, gets tangled for a second and releases a truly, unfairly cute whine before extricating himself, sitting up and balancing on Eddie while his tired brain lags. “You got me flowers,” he whispers, reverent hand coming up to pet along a petal.

“I did,” Eddie agrees giddily.

Steve nudges the flowers aside, falls into Eddie’s chest, nuzzles into his neck. “Thank you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the crown of Steve’s head, drags a hand over his hair and down his back. “You’re very welcome, baby. How about I put these in water and make you those pancakes? Blueberry and chocolate chip, right?”

Steve nods into his neck. “Wanna go with you.”

“Absolutely you can come with me,” Eddie agrees. “Are you gonna walk or am I gonna carry you?”

Steve’s hands come up to circle his neck even as he says, “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” Eddie murmurs, sliding his hands around Steve’s waist. “But what if I wanna carry you?”

“M’kay,” Steve agrees, pressing a kiss into Eddie’s neck. “You can. If you want to.”

“So generous,” Eddie snickers, and does, carries him down to the kitchen and puts him on the counter, pulls away with a long, sweet kiss to grab the pancake mix.

They’re back in the trailer. Steve’s got the day off and is tackling their room. Eddie’s clothes are still strewn about the place after that harried call to Wayne had him dumping the boxes and bringing them to Loch Nora. Steve’s things are nearly all put away now, but Eddie’s are still all over the place, so that’s what Steve’s working on.

Eddie’s at work, a half day at the shop, so he’ll be home just after lunch.

Steve loses track of time in their room, meaning he’s neck-deep in the closet and still hasn’t had lunch by the time Eddie walks in. “Baby,” he calls, and Steve narrowly misses hitting his head on the door as he sits back.

“Room!” He calls, even though the trailer walls are thin and he can hear Eddie heading that direction already.

Eddie’s smiling as he walks in. “Hey, baby, what’re you doing in here?” He crouches down for a quick kiss and scent mark, accepting the same back.

Steve sighs. “Just trying to organize a little. Get our room back in order.”

“Baby, this is my shit, I’ll do it. C’mon, have you eaten?”

“Getting you to organize is like pulling your toenails out, Eds, I actually like it. I’ll do it. No, I lost track of time, but I can make something real quick if you’re hungry?”

Eddie grins, shakes his head. “Nah, Flo brought something in for the guys, and I snacked between cars. C’mon, baby, lemme take care of you, what do you want to eat?”

Steve hums. “Mac and cheese? Or… do we have any hamburger helper?”

“We should,” Eddie nods. “If not, we definitely have Spam, I can add some of that to some mac?”

Steve nods. “That sounds great. Thanks, Alpha.”

Eddie nuzzles him. “Any time, omega.” He presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead and heads out to the kitchen, and Steve continues cleaning with the background noises of Eddie making him lunch.

Soon enough the noises slow, and not long after Eddie brings him a bowl.

Steve eats while Eddie putters around, putting away a few things, before stilling at the dresser. “Baby?”

“Hm?”

Eddie turns around, joins him on the bed. “So, obviously for courting gifts, the last one, the biggest one, is usually a piece of clothing.”

“Right.”

“And I’ve already given you my vest.” His lips quirk up. “I’d argue I’ve given you my whole closet,” he says, nodding down at Steve’s outfit, which consists entirely of Eddie’s clothes. Steve shrugs, because he knows Eddie loves it. “So I have something else for you, instead. If you want it.”

“Okay.”

Eddie reaches up, unclasps his necklace, and offers it to Steve. “The pick was my mom’s,” he whispers. “The first one I ever used to learn guitar. After she passed, Wayne kept teaching me. For the longest time, I thought of it as a good luck charm. Like if I wore it, the band would have a good show.”

“Then you should keep it.”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “The band’s done. We weren’t going anywhere anyways, and especially after the accusations…” he shrugs. “Besides, I have you now. And you’re better than any good luck charm.”

“Flirt,” Steve mutters, but his cheeks are pink as he touches the necklace. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t, baby.”

Steve smiles, ducks his head. “Okay.” He brings his hand up to touch the pick as Eddie secures the necklace. When Eddie sits back, Steve pulls him in again for a kiss.

“Just for the record,” he murmurs when they pull back, “if we weren’t mated, I would’ve accepted all of your gifts.”

At that, Eddie grins and pulls him into another kiss.

They can always finish cleaning tomorrow.

[ar-agon]

TikTok

So branching out some more on writing but I got inspo for a fic and I thought I'd give in a try- Ar

Summary: Inspired by @alnilaem post about TikToker reader and grumpy-looking Simon Riley. Reader is described using fem pronouns.

Length: 1276

You gained a following on TikTok due to making easy meals and baking cakes. You also always wore dresses and hand-made embroidered aprons while making your videos, giving all your videos a warm, homey vibe. It was what some of your viewers called your aesthetic, a lovely housewife. You didn’t mind it too much, given you were a stay-at-home wife. Your husband Simon worked construction, and that brought in enough to pay for everything, and the little you got from your videos helped cushion whatever else you wanted. Simon never showed up in your videos, either letting you have reign of the kitchen or him being at work while you filmed. 

You decided for today’s video to hop on the “pack my husband’s lunch with me” trend. So you began the video as you always do, “Hey, everyone, I am doing something new today. So, we are going to be packing my husband’s lunch today.” You smile at the camera as you start making Simon two roast beef sandwiches. “He's not very picky when it comes to food, but he certainly doesn’t like anything super fancy for lunch,” you say as you continue to pack his lunch. You hum to yourself as you make the sandwiches, placing them in a plastic bag. You then grab a small container and fill it with grapes, placing it in the bag as well. You then grab a small thermos and fill it with coffee, placing it in the bag as well. You then grab a small bag of chips and place it in the bag, sealing it up. You then grab a small notebook and pen and write a small note, placing it in the bag as well. “And there it is, my husband’s lunch.” The camera pans over the lunchbox before the video ends. 

You posted the video without watching it fully. If you had, you would have noticed Simon in the background. You knew your husband looked mean all huge and muscular. He was also wearing one of his work shirts that was covered in paint splatter. You had tried your hardest to get most of it out when you washed them, but you never truly succeeded. Simon was handsome but always had a resting mad face. So, when you looked at the comments and noticed a bunch of people asking you if you were okay, you knew that your rough-looking husband had made an appearance. 

“Close your fist with your thumb inside if you're not safe,” You read one of the comments out loud to Simon as you cuddled on the couch, watching movies.

“What?” he asked.

“My comments from my packing your lunch video. They’re filled with people asking me if I’m okay.”

Simon snorts and laughs, pulling you closer. "You should know by now that people are always worried about you. But I'm sure they're just seeing my face and getting confused." Simon was a large man, always wearing paint covered clothes and always looking grumpy, even if he was in a good mood.

“Maybe I should do a video about you?” you ask as she scrolls through more and more worried comments. “Just because you’re bigger than me and look mean doesn’t mean I’m in any danger.”

“I don’t know you might be,” Simon laughs as he pinches your side.

“Si, I’m serious,” you squeak softly as you push his hand away, “they think you’re forcing me to stay home.”

Simon looks at you in shock, then rolls his eyes jokingly and lets out a fake gasp. “But what else can a brute like myself do except keep a tiny and very beautiful wife at home?” He asks in mock shock, and he pinches you again softly, knowing how ticklish you really were when you let your guard down.

“Stop it,” you giggle, pushing his hand away again, “you’re not helping your case right now.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he states as he kisses your cheek, “fine, make the video if you must, but I doubt it will change much.”

“Blink twice in the next video if you need help. This is getting ridiculous.”

"Sure whatever you say dear," Simon teases, before grabbing your chin and making you pay attention to him. "But please know that I love you and wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to," he added a gentle, teasing smirk growing before pulling you on to his lap. 

“I know, Si,” you sigh softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mrs. Riley,” he grinned before pulling you into a kiss. 

The next day, you decided to make the video while making one of Simon’s favorite cakes.

  The video starts with you standing in your kitchen, dressed up in one of your many dresses with a hand embroidered apron on. You smile at the camera, looking pretty in your quaint kitchen as you begin to speak. "Hey, everybody! It's me again," you greeted your phone camera, "today I'm making a special cake for my husband. It's one of his favorite, so I thought I'd share it with you."

Simon is seen sitting across the kitchen counter, reading a novel and occasionally glancing up.

“He likes them very rich, so we are making a dark chocolate with caramel filling and white chocolate flakes on top,” you state as you begin to prepare that batter. “So, I also wanted to address the very nice and worried comments about me. My husband may look mean, but I can assure you all that he is just a big ol’ teddy bear.”

You started to stir the batter together. “He doesn’t keep me at home, I like making videos and baking for all of you. So, I have made it my full-time job. I used to work in an office, but now that there are so many of you who enjoy watching me bake and cook, well, I am really grateful for all of you.”

Simon watched with amusement as you made cakes and defended him from strangers on the internet who were convinced he was keeping his wife chained to a stove.  He chuckled and then added a remark. 

"You always said you hated that job anyway,” Simon said, finally pulling his gaze away from his book to glance in your direction. You had always loved being a homemaker, but back in you office days, there was definitely no shortage of complaints.

“I did but thanks to you guys,” you said addressing the audience in the video, “I can finally do something that I love.” You pause the video so you could cut to when the cake was baked and cool before decorating.

“Do you think that will go over well? That they’ll believe me?” you place the cake batter into the oven.

Simon closes his book and gets up from his seat, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you. "They better believe us," he mutters into your ear, "don't want people thinking that I abuse my poor wife." He gently kisses your neck before letting you out of his grip. 

“I’m sure some will still think so but I’m just glad to have you around, Mr. Riley,” you tell him.

“As am I my little housewife,” he says pulling you close.

You finish the cake and the video before posting it to you viewers to see. There's a couple of worried comments, but most of the comments range from "Aw, that's adorable," to "See? Told you guys he wasn't such a brute."

Simon leans over your shoulder, looking at the comments. "Told you they would believe us," he says with a teasing smirk.

“I know,” you smile.

[puppysuke]

hi hi hi hi hi hi hello howdy <333 I never send in asks (or interact with anyone on Tumblr for that matter) but I just AAAHHH I love your headcanons!! I think Daisuke x reader headcanons pre-relationship would be so cute... Like the confession and the mutual pining and everything omg. You don't have to do it at all, if you did that would be fantastic but no worries, um okay bye 😍😍

eats a brick and leaves on a fly ride adopt me unicorn

i am honored that you asked me for this! hopefully you like this a lot. i'll just do hc since thats what you asked, BUT if you want to req a oneshot based on this, i would love that tons and tons. i'd be happy to write that! also don't eat bricks, ok, not good for you silly. all sfw! can be read after the events of mouthwashing or a different au! if you'd like something like this in mouthwashing au, like in the tulpar and stuff, i'll write that too :3 but i guess this can be read like that too for the most part. thank you, anon, let me get you a nice muffin or something you'd like. continue reading under the cut! art by ImaHealthHazard on pinterest!

🌺 --- daisuke didn't exactly expect to fall in love with you. he really just thought you were a really good friend! 🌺 --- that was until you brought him a brownie that you had gotten from the store, knowing he had a huge sweet tooth. 🌺 --- when you gave him the brownie, he KNEW he was in love. he had tried to deny it to himself, but he couldn't anymore. 🌺 --- he didn't realize that you felt the same way for him. he thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

🌺 ---he felt like a TOTAL creep for liking you. he caught himself staring at you or daydreaming about you.

🌺 --- you were super obvious about liking him too, he just didn't realize that.

🌺 --- like the time you told him you wish you had a boyfriend like him? yeah, he thought he was just deluding himself into thinking you meant anything by it.

🌺 --- he tried to not be obvious about his feelings. he felt very guilty about it! so i tried to hide it. but he wasn't very good at it.

🌺 --- mutual friends of yours said things like "just date already!" and "so when are you guys getting together?"

🌺 --- and daisuke would panic and be like "ew why would i wanna date them???"

🌺 --- it hurt you a bit, but you didn't show it! you just went along with it.

🌺 --- you guys both were talking to your mutual friends about liking each other, so they all knew about it!

🌺 --- everyone knew but you and daisuke. even his mom had called you his girlfriend a few times...

🌺 --- you guys pined over each other for MONTHS. you fell first, but he fell WAY harder.

🌺 --- finally, the guilt got to daisuke and he decided to confess. he mainly just expected you to reject him and he figured that'd help him move on.

🌺 --- he came to you a sobbing mess after having a drink or two. he had walked to your house at 2 in the morning.

🌺 --- you let him in and sat with him, trying to comfort him, but he refused to tell you what was wrong for a good while.

🌺 --- after he finally got a hold on himself and stopped crying, he got a few words out.

🌺 --- "i need to tell you that i-" daisuke sniffled and there he went crying again.

🌺 --- you frowned and coaxed the answer out of him. "i like you! so much and i feel so bad, i'm so sorry!"

🌺 --- you just stared at him for a minute and let out a little laughed, ruffling his hair. he stared at you with big eyes and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

🌺 --- you very quickly told him you liked him too. he then proceeded to go on and on about how he meant he was in love with you kinda like.

🌺 --- you had to assure him you understood and felt the same. he kinda felt stupid after that.

🌺 --- "oh." daisuke wiped his tears and cleared his throat. "well! this is embarrasing."

🌺 --- needless to say, you got together not to long after that.

🌺 --- your friend group was very relieved they didn't have to listen to you two go on and on to them about eachother.

🌺 ---till they realized they needed to see you two being way too lovey dovey infront of them.

🌺 --- "wait, daisuke came to you crying?" swansea asked, sure to tease him about that for a while.

🌺 --- daisuke would brush it off and claim it made him more 'desirable' and protest he was just in tune with him feminine side!

🌺 --- also i just wanted to add this man makes you playlists 24/7. like you don't even get a chance to listen to your music because he is constantly making you playlists, it's his love language. so naturally your taste in music morphs into his.

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[amethystarachnid]

hey, could i request the secret admirer trope with mcu peter parker from love is in the air? it would be great if the reader was a female avenger (in a world where no one dies and everyone lives together). i just know that peter would be soo cute as a secret admirer; so could you write into the story him being super paranoid when leaving gifts and little notes at y/n’s door and always being the sweetest? oh and also thinking he’s super slick and all that but y/n actually knows it’s him leaving the gifts and stuff (she checked the security camera footage after the second one) but peter absolutely CANNOT take a hint so she decides to mess with him a little and convinces another avenger (maybe sam?) to act like her boyfriend to make peter jealous because she thinks it’s a little funny (:() but he only gets sad and barely leaves his room and no one knows why (except y/n) so she comes clean after the second day (i seem to have an obsession with the number 2) and kisses him after she comes to see him while he’s moping in his room. i should stop rambling i really hope this isn’t too long and im excited to read what you write! thanks!

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ PETER PARKER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said and !! important!! both Peter and reader here are twenty-something

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing i think

ᯓ★ I'm backkk! and I hope to have more free time to write for you guys! <3 also I'm working on a Bucky Barnes x fem!demigod!OC (demigod because yes I said so) so let me know if you would be interested <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Moving into the Avengers Compound is overwhelming in ways you don’t expect. The high-tech security, the endless hallways, the casual presence of literal superheroes—it’s a lot to take in. You’re used to SHIELD facilities, where everything is sleek and professional, where people nod in acknowledgment but don’t stop to chat. The compound is different. It’s still high-tech, still crawling with some of the most skilled fighters on the planet, but it feels… warmer. Like a home, rather than a base.

It helps that the team is welcoming. Sam and Bucky tease you like an annoying pair of older brothers. Wanda is quick to pull you into conversations, treating you like you’ve always been part of the team. Even Tony, in his own sarcastic way, seems to have accepted you.

Then there’s Peter Parker.

Peter is unlike anyone you’ve worked with before. He’s clumsy but quick, brilliant but self-deprecating, always talking like his thoughts are moving faster than his mouth. He’s a dork, really, but in an endearing way. He’s also ridiculously powerful—not that he acts like it. If you hadn’t seen him in action, you’d never guess the guy who constantly fumbles with his web-shooters is the same Spider-Man who’s taken down entire teams of bad guys on his own.

You notice, almost immediately, that he’s nervous around you. The stammering, the way his face flushes whenever you look at him too long, the way he trips over his own feet when you’re in the same room—it’s impossible to miss. It’s cute.

And then, the gifts start showing up.

The first one appears a week after you move in. You find it on your way back to your room late at night—a slightly crumpled bouquet of daisies, placed neatly in front of your door with a small note.

Welcome to the team! Hope you like these. :)

No name. Just a simple message and a cute little smiley face.

You smile, crouching down to pick up the flowers. They aren’t professionally arranged—some of the stems are uneven, and a few petals look a little worse for wear—but there’s something undeniably sweet about them. Someone went out of their way to welcome you, and you have a pretty good guess who.

Still, you don’t say anything. You don’t want to assume. Maybe it’s Wanda. Maybe it’s Sam messing with you.

Then, three days later, another gift appears. A small bag of your favorite candy, along with another note.

Saw you training today. You’re incredible. Hope this makes your night better!

Again, no name. But the handwriting is the same.

That’s when your curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re trained to notice patterns, to pick up on the details most people overlook. And you’re trained to investigate. So, you do what any ex-SHIELD agent would—you check the security footage.

It doesn’t take long to find what you’re looking for. You scroll back to the timestamp from the night before, eyes scanning the grainy hallway footage. Then, right on schedule, someone drops into view.

Peter Parker.

You watch as he crouches in front of your door, carefully placing the candy down like it might explode. His movements are quick but nervous—he keeps glancing up and down the hallway like he expects someone to catch him. Then he pulls out the note, smooths it down three times, mutters something under his breath, and web-slings to the ceiling.

You replay the footage, laughing to yourself.

Of course, it’s Peter.

The pieces click together so perfectly you can’t believe you didn’t realize it earlier. The awkwardness, the way he lights up when you talk to him, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He has a crush on you.

And now, you know.

But you don’t tell him. Because, honestly? It’s adorable. And if Peter wants to keep thinking he’s being sneaky, you’re more than happy to let him.

Since then, the gifts keep coming.

Every few days, something new appears at your door. Sometimes, it’s snacks after a long mission. Other times, little trinkets—stickers, keychains, a tiny plush cat because you mentioned once that you like them. And always, always a note.

You start having fun with it.

You drop hints, teasing him just enough to see if he reacts. You compliment his intelligence, lean in close when you’re standing next to him, smile a little longer than necessary. You even start leaving notes of your own—nothing direct, just little things you know will fluster him.

Nice work in training today, Peter. Maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit on me. ;)

He reads it while you’re in the same room, and his face turns so red you think he might combust.

It’s perfect.

But somehow, despite all your efforts, he remains completely oblivious.

Tonight, you’re determined to push him just a little further.

It’s late, and most of the team has already gone to bed. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping tea when Peter walks in. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big.

“Oh,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Hey!”

You smile. “Hey, Peter.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say. “What about you?”

“Uh, same,” he says, though you suspect he was probably sneaking around to drop off another gift.

You decide to test him. “I found something outside my door again.”

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird, though. It’s like… I keep getting these little gifts. And notes. No idea who they’re from.”

He swallows hard. “That’s—uh—crazy.”

You nod. “Right? I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. But I wonder who’s doing it.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, no clue. Could be anyone.”

You step closer, just enough to make him notice. “You think so?”

His eyes dart to your face, then away again. “Y-yeah! I mean, maybe it’s, like, a team thing? Or—uh—someone trying to make you feel welcome?”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. But it’s funny… they always seem to know exactly what I like.”

Peter practically short-circuits. “That’s—uh—wild.”

You bite back a grin. He’s so obvious it hurts.

“Well,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him, “whoever it is, I kind of wish they’d just talk to me.”

Peter blinks. “Oh?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I mean, sneaking around is cute and all, but I’d really like to get to know them.”

For a second, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll take the hint. But then, he just lets out a choked laugh and says, “Yeah! Totally! That would be—uh—cool!”

You sigh internally.

Peter Parker is the worst secret admirer in the world.

But he’s also the sweetest.

So, you’ll wait. You’ll keep playing along, keep flirting, keep dropping hints. And maybe—eventually—he’ll realize you like him too.

Peter Parker is a genius.

He built his web-shooters from scraps, made it through MIT’s entrance exams before graduating high school, and helps Tony Stark with tech that makes most people’s heads spin.

And yet, for all his intelligence, he’s completely, hopelessly, unbelievably clueless.

You keep flirting with him, testing the waters, pushing the line between teasing and something a little more. Sometimes, it’s subtle—a hand on his arm when you laugh, leaning a little too close when you talk. Other times, it’s… less subtle.

Like the time you stretch in the training room, arching your back just enough to make him flustered, only to watch in delight as Peter—mid push-up—faceplants directly onto the mat. Or the time you “accidentally” call him handsome in front of the team, and he spends the next five minutes sputtering like a broken car engine while everyone watches in confusion.

At this point, it’s a personal challenge.

You want to see how far you can push him before he finally realizes you’re into him. And if he doesn’t? Well. You’re having way too much fun watching him suffer.

The best part is that no one else seems to notice. Everyone assumes Peter is just awkward (which, to be fair, he is), and you’re just being friendly (which, to be fair, you are—just with extra flirting).

At least, that’s what you think.

Until Sam Wilson calls you out.

It happens in the common room. You’re lounging on the couch after a morning mission, scrolling through your phone, when Sam plops down beside you with a knowing smirk.

“So,” he says casually, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been messing with Parker?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Sam drawls. “You’ve been flirting with that boy so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”

You fight back a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then explain why he turns redder than Wanda’s magic every time you walk into the room.”

You shrug. “Maybe he’s just allergic to me.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, he’s just allergic to rizz.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got it bad for you, and you know it.”

You sigh dramatically. “Yeah. But he has no idea I know.”

Sam squints at you. “Wait. He doesn’t know you know?”

“Nope.”

“…And he doesn’t know that you know that he doesn’t know you know?”

You blink. “What?”

“Never mind.” Sam shakes his head. “So, what’s the deal? You just enjoying the slow burn? Or are you waiting for him to finally grow a pair and ask you out?”

You grin. “A little of both.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s evil.”

“Not evil,” you correct. “Just… patient.”

Sam gives you a look. “Right. And I’m Captain America.”

You smirk. “You wish.”

He grins, then tilts his head, clearly considering something. “You want me to help?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Help how?”

Sam stretches his arms behind his head. “I could drop some hints. Get in his head a little.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Tempting.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudges you. “You know you want to see him suffer.”

That makes you laugh. “Fine. But don’t be too mean.”

“No promises,” Sam says, already grinning like he’s planning something dangerous.

You don’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but you do know one thing—Peter Parker doesn’t stand a chance.

It starts at breakfast.

Peter is sitting at the table, eating a massive bowl of cereal, when Sam slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Parker?”

Peter blinks, mouth full. “Mmf?”

Sam smirks. “You know, I’ve been noticing something lately.”

Peter swallows, already looking nervous. “Noticing what?”

Sam leans forward. “You and Y/N.”

Peter chokes on his cereal.

“I—what?” he sputters, coughing.

“You and Y/N,” Sam repeats, smirking. “Something going on there?”

Peter turns so red you’re afraid he might actually explode. “N-no! I mean—uh—why? Did she say something?”

Sam pretends to think. “Hmm. Can’t say. But, you know, she does talk about you a lot.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “Like, the other day, she was saying how much she loves a guy who’s smart. Thought that was interesting.”

Peter makes a strangled sound. “She—she did?”

Sam nods. “And then she said something about how she likes guys who are good with their hands.”

Peter immediately drops his spoon. “WHAT?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno, man. Just something to think about.”

Peter looks like he’s about to faint.

You, watching from across the room, nearly lose it.

For the next week, Sam continues his psychological warfare.

One morning, while you’re stretching before training, Sam casually mentions, “Hey, Parker, did you know Y/N thinks your arms are nice?”

Peter nearly drops the dumbbell he’s holding.

Then, during a mission briefing, Sam leans over and says, “You know, Y/N was just telling me how much she loves guys who can fight.”

Peter immediately starts sweating.

But the final straw comes during movie night. The team is gathered in the common room, popcorn bowls scattered across the couches, when Sam—loudly, for the whole room to hear—says, “Hey, Parker, Y/N said she likes guys who can take charge. What do you think that means?”

Peter, in the middle of drinking his soda, chokes so violently that Tony has to pat him on the back.

You’re dying.

Sam is clearly having the time of his life. Every time Peter panics, he shoots you a smug look, and you have to fight to keep a straight face.

Peter, meanwhile, is suffering.

And the best part? He still doesn’t get it.

Still doesn’t realize you’re into him.

At this point, you’re genuinely starting to think he might never figure it out.

But you’re patient.

So, you wait. You flirt. You tease. And you watch as Peter Parker, one of the smartest people you know, continues to be the most oblivious person on the planet.

At first, Peter’s obliviousness is adorable. It’s fun watching him squirm, fun seeing him turn bright red whenever you so much as look at him a little too long. But now? Now it’s getting annoying.

You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. You’ve been touching his arm, leaning in close, giving him every possible signal short of straight-up kissing him. And what does he do? He stammers. He trips over his own feet. He gets so flustered that he either short-circuits completely or runs away like a scared puppy.

It’s maddening.

You’re starting to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re not being obvious enough. Maybe Peter just doesn’t think you could actually like him. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone in this compound paid half as much attention to him as you did, they’d see exactly why you liked him. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s got this dorky charm that somehow makes your heart race in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t get the damn hint.

So, you decide to kick things up a notch.

You start small. The next time you see Peter in the gym, you make sure to stretch right in front of him. It’s a bold move, but you’re desperate. You slowly lift your arms above your head, arching your back just enough to be noticeable. Then, when you bend down to touch your toes, you peek up to see if he’s watching.

He is.

And then he immediately panics and turns away so fast he nearly walks into the weight rack.

You barely hold back an eye roll.

Fine. If that didn’t work, maybe something else will.

Later that day, you find him in the lab, tinkering with his web-shooters. You walk in, pretending like you don’t have an agenda, and lean against the table. He looks up, startled, then immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he says, voice slightly higher than usual. “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, resting a hand under your chin. “Nothing much. Just needed a distraction.”

Peter nods, focusing way too hard on his web-fluid cartridge. “Yeah? Um. Cool. What—uh—what kind of distraction?”

You smirk. “Oh, you know. Something fun.”

Peter’s hand slips, and a small burst of web-fluid sprays onto the table. He stares at it like it personally betrayed him.

You grin, stepping closer, casually placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so tense, Peter. You ever think about taking a break?”

He lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. “Me? Oh, no, I’m—I’m good! Totally fine! Not tense at all!”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Really? Because you feel tense.”

Peter swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I—uh—”

You drag your fingers down his arm slowly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you relax.”

Peter makes a noise that is definitely not human and abruptly stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over. “I-I should really finish this!” he blurts out. “So much work to do! Web-fluid doesn’t improve itself! Haha!”

You blink as he practically throws himself back into his project, acting like you didn’t just borderline seduce him in the middle of the lab.

It’s unbelievable.

How is it possible for someone to be this dense?

You sigh, finally stepping back. “Alright, Parker. Have fun with your webs.”

“Y-you too!” he stammers. Then, realizing that makes no sense, he adds, “I mean—uh—have fun with whatever you’re doing! Yep!”

You walk out, shaking your head.

This is getting ridiculous.

That night, you call for reinforcements.

Sam lounges on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, looking entirely too smug. “So. Parker still being an idiot?”

You flop onto the bed beside him. “He’s impossible.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

“I don’t get it,” you groan. “I’ve been all over him. I’ve flirted, I’ve touched him, I’ve literally told him I think he’s cute, and he still doesn’t get it.”

Sam snorts. “Man, that boy is a lost cause.”

“There has to be a way to make him realize,” you say, frustrated.

Sam hums, thinking. Then he smirks. “Have you tried making him jealous?”

You pause. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You know. Flirt with someone else. See if that gets his brain to finally start working.”

It’s not a bad idea.

You sit up, considering it. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sam grins. “Peter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t realize what he wants until he thinks he’s about to lose it.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, mulling it over. It’s risky. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

The plan is simple. The next day, you start subtly flirting with other people. Nothing crazy, just enough to test Peter’s reaction. You laugh a little too hard at Bucky’s jokes, compliment Steve’s biceps during training, even lean in close when talking to Sam just to see if Peter notices.

He does.

And he looks like he’s about to self-destruct.

The first time you flirt with Bucky, Peter nearly drops the coffee he’s holding. The second time you casually touch Steve’s arm, he stares like he’s witnessing a national tragedy. And when you get extra close to Sam at dinner, Peter’s entire body goes rigid like he’s about to short-circuit.

It’s hilarious.

But it’s also not working fast enough.

So, you take it a step further.

That night, when you run into Peter in the hallway, you lean against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “You okay, Peter? You’ve been acting weird.”

Peter stiffens. “Me? No! I mean—yes! I mean—I’m totally fine! Why do you ask?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know. You just seem… distracted.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Nope! Totally focused!”

You step closer. “Are you sure?”

Peter swallows. “Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “Well, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with other people lately. Thought maybe that was bothering you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wh—why would that bother me?”

You shrug, trailing a finger along his arm. “I don’t know. Just wondering if maybe you wanted me to spend more time with you instead.”

Peter makes a strangled noise.

Then, just when you think he might finally get it, he blurts out, “I—uh—oh wow, look at the time! I gotta go!”

And then he runs.

Again.

You stand there, stunned, watching as he practically sprints down the hallway like his life depends on it.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Unbelievable.

At this point, you have no idea what else you can do. You’ve flirted, teased, touched, complimented—hell, you’ve practically thrown yourself at him, and he’s still too dense to see it.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

But then again…

You smirk.

Maybe it’s time to try something even bolder.

This is war.

You have tried everything. Flirting, teasing, touching, straight-up telling Peter you think he’s cute—it’s all been useless. The boy is either the densest human being on the planet, or he truly believes you could never be into him. Either way, you’re at your breaking point.

So, you decide to take Sam’s advice.

You’re going to make Peter jealous.

And not just by flirting with other people. That clearly hasn’t worked. No, you’re going for the nuclear option. If he won’t get a clue after everything you’ve done, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll realize he likes you if he thinks he’s already lost you.

Which is why you’re sitting on Sam’s bed, grinning while he stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You want me to what?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, voice casual.

Sam blinks. “Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, nudging him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just a little act to make Peter jealous. You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I said flirt with other people,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Not start a fake relationship.”

“Please, Sam,” you whine, clasping your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust to do this. And admit it, you think it’ll be hilarious.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, yeah, it will be funny.”

You grin. “So, you’re in?”

He gives you a look. “This is gonna end in disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” you say. “But it’ll be fun.”

Sam groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

The next morning, it begins.

You start by holding Sam’s hand at breakfast. It’s subtle, casual, like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. Sam plays along perfectly, smirking as he squeezes your hand.

Peter, sitting across the table, nearly chokes on his toast.

“Oh, you okay there, Parker?” Sam asks, smirking.

Peter forces a laugh. “Yeah! Totally fine!”

You smile sweetly. “Good. You looked a little… surprised.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly. “Nope! Not surprised! Just, um—just didn’t know you guys were—uh—” He gestures between you and Sam, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Sam shrugs. “Oh yeah, it’s a new thing. We figured, why not?”

Peter goes rigid. “Oh. Cool. That’s—uh—that’s really cool.”

You squeeze Sam’s hand again, leaning your head against his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Yeah. It is.”

Peter looks like someone just told him Spider-Man isn’t a real superhero.

It’s both hilarious and a little sad.

You expect him to ask questions, to push for details, but instead, he just goes quiet. He finishes his breakfast quickly, mutters some excuse about needing to work on something in the lab, and leaves before you can say another word.

You frown as you watch him go.

“Well,” Sam says, “that was… unexpected.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Sam gestures toward the door Peter just left through. “I figured he’d get all flustered, maybe try to ‘compete’ for your attention. But he just shut down.”

You chew your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yeah. That was weird.”

And it only gets weirder.

For the next few days, Peter avoids you. Completely.

He stops sitting next to you at meals. He doesn’t spar with you in training. He doesn’t even make eye contact when you pass him in the hallways. Every time you try to talk to him, he either mumbles some excuse or straight-up disappears.

It’s like he’s a ghost.

And no one—not even Sam—can figure out why.

At first, you think maybe he’s just adjusting. Maybe he’s trying to process his feelings, or maybe he’s sulking. But then you start hearing things.

“He’s been in the lab all day,” Bucky says at dinner one night.

“Yeah, he skipped training again,” Steve adds. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, frowning. “He barely talks to anyone anymore.”

You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re panicking.

Because you know exactly why Peter is acting like this.

And suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

That night, you find yourself standing outside Peter’s room. You hesitate, hand hovering over the door. You don’t know if he’ll even answer, but you have to try.

You knock.

Silence.

You knock again. “Peter? It’s me.”

More silence.

You sigh. “I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

You lean against the door, voice softer now. “Peter… can we talk?”

A long pause. Then, finally, a quiet voice from the other side.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your heart clenches. “Why not?”

Another pause. Then—so soft you almost don’t hear it—Peter says, “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”

You blink, confused. “Weird? Peter, what are you talking about?”

He sighs. “You and Sam. You guys are happy. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You screwed up.

You thought Peter would get jealous. You thought he’d realize his feelings and maybe—just maybe—make a move. But instead, he assumed the worst. He thought he lost his chance.

And now he’s shutting himself off because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

You feel like the worst person in the world.

“Peter,” you say carefully, “you’re not in the way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “I dunno. Feels like I am.”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re not.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Peter says, “Are you happy?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because the answer is complicated.

You’re happy when you’re around Peter. You’re happy when he smiles at you, when he laughs, when he rambles about some weird science thing that you barely understand.

You’re happy with him.

Not Sam.

Never Sam.

And you should’ve realized that before pulling this stupid stunt.

You take a deep breath. “Peter… can I come in?”

Another long pause. Then, finally, the door unlocks.

You step inside. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking exhausted. His hair is messier than usual, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. It makes your chest ache.

You sit beside him, close but not too close. “I need to tell you something.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, then say, “Sam and I aren’t together.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”

“It was fake,” you admit, voice soft. “I just… I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d realize…”

You trail off, heart pounding.

Peter stares at you, completely still. “Realize what?”

You swallow. This is it. No more games.

You meet his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“That I like you, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. His whole body has gone still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to believe what you just said.

You watch the way his brain tries to process it, his thoughts practically running across his face in real-time. His eyebrows furrow like he thinks you might be messing with him, then lift slightly, like maybe—just maybe—he dares to hope you’re telling the truth.

You inhale, steeling yourself. “I like you, Peter. I have for a while.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

Your heart pounds as you force yourself to keep going. “And I know about the gifts. The notes. Everything.”

Peter jerks back like you just electrocuted him. “You—what?”

You exhale, giving him a small smile. “I know it was you. I checked the security footage after the second one.”

Peter makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You bite back a laugh. “Peter—”

“Oh my god,” he groans again, voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to know.”

You grin. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Peter drags his hands down his face, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. “This is… this is bad.”

You tilt your head. “Why is it bad?”

“Because!” He gestures wildly. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me! I thought I was being sneaky! I had a whole system!”

Your smile softens. “Peter. It was adorable.”

He makes another pained noise, slumping forward, hands in his hair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You shake your head, fondness swelling in your chest. You reach out, resting a hand on his arm. “Peter.”

He stops rambling immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You squeeze his arm lightly. “I loved the gifts. And the notes. And everything about it. You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

Peter swallows. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And you wanna know the best part?”

“…What?”

You smile, shifting closer. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Peter’s breath catches.

He looks at you, and for the first time since you walked into his room, there’s something new in his eyes. Something hopeful.

He licks his lips, voice barely above a whisper. “You do?”

Instead of answering, you decide to show him.

You lean in slowly, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. He just watches you, eyes locked on your lips, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe this is happening.

Then, finally, you close the distance.

The second your lips touch his, Peter freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t move—like his brain short-circuited entirely.

Then, suddenly, he melts.

He kisses you back with so much enthusiasm it nearly knocks you over. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve both wasted dancing around this.

It’s messy, desperate, but it’s perfect.

Peter makes a small, needy sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s making sure you’re real. His heart is racing—you can feel it against your own chest, pounding like it’s trying to break free.

You smile against his lips. “You’re kissing me like a happy puppy.”

Peter pulls back just enough to breathe, his face flushed, eyes dazed. “I am a happy puppy.”

You laugh, cupping his face. “Good.”

Peter blinks at you, then suddenly grins—wide and bright and so full of joy it makes your chest ache. “Wait. I’m kissing you. We’re kissing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, genius, we are.”

He looks almost dizzy with excitement. “This is—this is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

You smirk. “If you were dreaming, would I do this?”

You tug him back in and kiss him again, slow and deep.

Peter practically melts, hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you back like his life depends on it. His lips are warm, a little clumsy but sweet, and the way he holds you—like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—makes your stomach flip.

When you finally pull away, Peter is breathless.

“I’m so happy right now,” he says, looking at you like you hung the stars.

You smile, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Peter’s face lights up, and before you can say another word, he pulls you back in, kissing you again, and again, and again—like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

And honestly?

You’re more than okay with that.

It’s almost ridiculous how unsurprised everyone is when you and Peter officially become a couple. The second you announce it—or rather, the second Peter stammers through telling everyone while blushing like crazy—the reactions are so underwhelming that Peter nearly short-circuits.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natasha says dryly, not even looking up from cleaning her knives.

“Finally,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Wait, you guys weren’t already together?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Bruce just gives a small, approving nod. Steve claps Peter on the shoulder like he’s just congratulated him on getting a promotion. Even Thor, who’s barely around, chuckles and calls you both “young warriors of love,” which makes Peter go completely red.

But the best reaction comes from Tony.

Because Tony Stark, billionaire genius, mentor, and serial eye-roller, just grins. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic look, but a real, proud, genuine grin.

“About damn time, kid.”

Peter practically chokes.

Tony pats him on the back, almost knocking the air out of him. “Seriously. I was starting to think you were gonna need some kind of intervention.”

Peter blinks. “You—you knew?”

Tony snorts. “Knew? Parker, you’re about as subtle as a wrecking ball. The only one who didn’t know was you.”

Peter sputters, but you’re just smiling. Tony’s approval means a lot to Peter, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up that hearing Tony say he was rooting for him is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

But of course, because it’s Peter, he has to ruin his own happiness by still being annoyed at Sam.

Ever since the whole fake-boyfriend prank, Peter hasn’t exactly gotten over it. He knows it was just a joke. He knows you only did it to mess with him. He knows Sam doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

But does that stop him from glaring every time Sam so much as breathes near you? Absolutely not.

And Sam? Oh, Sam knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sam calls out one day, waltzing into the common room where you and Peter are curled up on the couch. He doesn’t even sit down before looking straight at Peter and smirking. “Relax, Spidey, I’m not gonna steal your girl.”

Peter bristles immediately. “I wasn’t—”

Sam laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Relax.”

Peter does not relax.

And you? You’re getting a little tired of your boyfriend pouting every time Sam so much as looks in your direction.

Which is why, after dinner that night, when Peter is still sulking over Sam calling you “sweetheart” in passing (just to mess with him, of course), you decide to do something about it.

You grab his wrist and pull him toward his room.

Peter stumbles after you, confused. “Uh, Y/N? What’s—”

You push the door open and drag him inside, shutting it behind you. Then, without a word, you shove him onto the bed.

Peter yelps, arms flailing as he lands on his back. “What—?”

You climb onto the bed beside him and immediately wrap yourself around him, curling into his side.

Peter freezes.

You sigh contently, nuzzling into his chest. “There. Now you can stop sulking.”

Peter doesn’t move for a solid five seconds. Then, very slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“…I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

You smile against his shirt. “Yes, you were.”

Peter huffs. “Sam’s just—he’s just annoying.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You know he’s only doing it because he knows it gets under your skin, right?”

Peter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less annoying.”

You chuckle, reaching up to brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Peter immediately flushes. “I—I’m not jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He sighs. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

You grin and press a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to be. You already won, Peter. I’m yours.”

Peter makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in your hair. “Say it again.”

You laugh. “What? That I’m yours?”

He nods, arms tightening around you.

You shift so that you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest as you lean down. “I’m yours, Peter Parker.”

Peter looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with so much awe it makes your heart ache. Then, before you can say anything else, he surges up and kisses you, gripping your waist like he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, sweet, and full of emotion. When you finally pull away, Peter just sighs happily and flops back onto the bed, keeping you in his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur against his chest.

Peter hums, already halfway to falling asleep. “Maybe. But I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s never said that before.

You lift your head to look at him, but his eyes are already closed, his breathing soft and even. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And as you settle against him, warm and safe in his arms, you know for a fact—jealousy or not, Peter Parker is yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ectogeo-art]

For the ask game: Julian jealous of imagined siskarak

Ooooh this one has been fun for me to write. It’s set during the s6 Defiant arc, and it’s all just misunderstandings and miscommunications and Garak and Bashir being in different headspace’s due to the anxieties of wartime. Garak and Bashir are roommates on the Defiant, getting closer to each other than ever, and then that abruptly ends bc they are needed in different places (Julian is on the Defiant and Garak is on the Starbase along with Sisko, so they can still see each other but it’s sporadic). It’s all Julian POV and he is trying to figure out how to start a relationship with Garak even though it would functionally be long-distance for awhile, but he and Garak both won’t state anything plainly so he just gets super jealous that Sisko gets to hang out with him all the time now. His frayed nerves make him paranoid and he knows he’s being irrationally jealous but like he has had no reassurance from Garak that they’ll get together and he just wants some sign from him.

And meanwhile Garak is not really thinking about romance at all. He is too busy working for Starfleet and cracking codes and having lowkey breakdowns about being a traitor to Cardassia (kinda like in Afterimage but more like in Favor the Bold). He kind of has put his usual pining for Julian on hold both because he is reckoning with his role in this war and because he is pretty sure at this point that he has Julian on lock. Like, he thinks they are on the same page about wanting to date each other when they get the chance, so he can afford to think about other more pressing matters like how to defeat the Dominion without getting too many of his fellow Cardassians killed in the process of stopping them, and such.

It all works out in the end though. 💕 The draft is about 3k words, I just have to write the getting together conversation and then edit the whole fic for like cohesion lol, so it may take me anywhere between 1 month and 3 years to finish it. 😂

(Link to my WIP ask game post.)

Snippet below the cut.

He waited a few more days before calling Garak, not wanting to seem desperate.

He’d rehearsed it all in his head. “Hey, Garak,” he’d say casually, “my roommate is working a double shift so I have a bit of privacy if you want to…”

Here, he would give him a look and trail off pointedly and strategically, and then let Garak fill in the blanks however he wanted. If Garak just wanted to talk, they could talk. Debate their latest read with passionate banter like they were across the table in the Replimat instead of star systems apart.

On the other hand, if Garak wanted to finally do something more, something fueled by all their flirtation over the years and all the recent much more heightened tension from sharing a living space… Well, Julian was prepared for that too—he wore only his uniform jacket, and the rest of him was covered only by a blanket.

The sheets slid across his bare skin as he squirmed to be slightly more upright.

The video call connected.

“—have clearance for—” Sisko cut himself off, straightened up, and blinked in surprise. “Dr. Bashir,” he greeted.

Sisko was standing behind a seated Garak and had been leaning over his shoulder, presumably in order to type something on the console that Julian’s call had gone to.

“Captain, I was, er, hoping to speak to Garak.”

“By all means.”

“Privately…”

He didn’t want to spell it out, both because it would have been embarrassingly unprofessional of him and because he was only half sure that he and Garak were on the same page about what kind of call this might turn out to be.

Garak made questioning eye contact with Sisko, who thought for a moment and then shook his head slightly.

Garak turned back to Julian on the screen. “I’m afraid now is not a good time,” he said with a sigh.

“I need to borrow him for the night,” Sisko said gravely. “It unfortunately can’t wait.”

An unfair jealousy coiled around Julian’s stomach and squeezed. The two of them shared secrets that he wasn’t allowed to know. The two of them needed to work long into the night with each other and could communicate with just a glance. He knew the importance of informational security in wartime, but Sisko and Garak hadn’t even given him the vague shape of whatever they were working on together.

“Of course,” he said stiffly. “I understand.”

After some brief goodbyes, Garak was the one who finally reached forward to end the call when Julian, frozen in place, made no move to.