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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months

Text

Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya going?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you‘ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a change.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #soft bucky #soft!bucky barnes #college!reader #college!bucky #college #frat boy

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

Rintaro is exhausted.

He’s been sprinting around non-stop these past few hours- yes, hours, he’s a man of weakness- trying to hold the fort while you’re at the doctors-that-hes-not-invited-to.

Kaiya, his little princess who now seems like the spawn of damned Satan, is on the path to weening off nap time, and it shows. Akito, the handsome and kind asshole, only seems to be interested in essay he’s doing in his room to avoid watching Kaiya.

It’s been four hours. Rintaro wants to leave these kids at a bus stop and ditch them. He doesn’t know how you do this every day.

“I’m home!” You call with a gentle close of the front door, and Rintaro cries in relief. Kaiya quickly dashes to you, followed by Rintaro himself scrambling behind her. You smile, and it’s like he can hear the choir of angels with it. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You ask Kaiya, and it’s prompted with a yawn.

Rintaro deflates, “she’s skipping sleep, remember? No more put downs, that’s why she’s being absolutely feral right now.”

You hum in agreement and look over at your little girl, who’s head is burrowed in the curve of your neck. “That’s true, but the pediatrician also said to not force her to stay awake so early, yeah?”

Rintaro whines in the back of his throat. You chuckle and head towards Kaiya’s bedroom, only stopping briefly to kiss your husband’s cheek. “You did great, my love. I’ll put her down and I’ll come right back out to take care of you.” He smiles softly and watches as you go. He stays put, like an obedient dog waiting for your command, hell he practically feels his invisible tail wagging at your return.

“Good boy,” you tease, grabbing his hand and bringing him to the couch. You sit down and smile easily, “okay. Tell me all about it.”

“They’re animals,” he groans, flopping on the couch next to you. “Literally. How do you deal with them everyday?”

You snort, “you get used to initiating the authority. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but-“ In the background, there’s a curse word that slips from Kaiya’s lips, followed by a crash in her bedroom, and Rintaro almost cries.

“God, we’re done, right?” He pants, flopping next to you on the couch. You laugh and shift over to gently card his hair through your nails.

“Done with what, baby?”

“We’re done,” he repeats. “No more kids. No more siblings. We’ve capped at two, that’s enough, they’re cute until their not, and we’re fine being aunts and uncles from now on.”

You smile down at Rintaro, continuing to card his soft locks. You don’t say anything though, only laughing again when one green eye peeks open.

“This is the point where you say ‘yes my beloved husband, we’re done, you’re getting a vasectomy tomorrow and laid every other night.’”

You continue to smile. He sits up, playfully afraid, before his eyes widen in realization.

“No.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know that look, it’s the same damn look you gave me when you bought our dogs, don’t lie to me, woman.”

You shake your head softly before he tries to make sense of the non-verbal news you’ve just shared with him.

“You’re… we’re having another baby?”

“Don’t be silly!” You scoff, swatting at his chest. “I wouldn’t make a big song and dance if we were having another baby!”

There’s a glimmer of sadness in his eye while he pretends to deflate in relief, hand clutching to his chest dramatically. He opens his mouth to speak while you dig through your purse in search for a small, yellow envelope. If he wasn’t wallowing in self pity, he’d ask what you were looking for, what you could’ve possibly picked up from the gynecologist to home.

You grab it, dig around for the small set of pictures and toss it onto his lap, letting him look and fully take in the pictures, eyes wide as saucers and hands trembling slightly.

Ultrasound pictures.

He looks up at you. You smile down with a nod.

“We’re having two.”

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

Note

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

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oracle-of-dream · 21 days

Text

Sweetness #3

Minors DNI

Summary: The continuation of Sweetness #2; Seunghan and Eunseok heard Anton with you and want their turn.

Warnings: Male reader, Slight dubcon, Big cocks Riize, Threesome, Hypnosis, Rough Sex, Pet names, Degradation, Blowjob, Overstimulation, Multiple orgasms, Creampie

Wordcount: 3.3k

Eunseok and Seunghan went into Anton’s room to see you lying in bed, covered by the bed sheet.

Eunseok covered his nose, “Did they go at it that hard?”

Seunghan shrugged, “You heard it as clearly as I did. They were fucking like dogs in here, and it smells like it.” The boys went over to you to check you out. Your hair was ruined, your cheeks were puffed, darkening bruises on your next, and the smell of cum drifted off you.

Anton came into the room with the towels, “Here’s the towels…”

Seunghan sucked on his teeth when he lifted the cover to see the rest of you naked under the sheet. His head craned, “Are you serious Anton?! There’s no way he won’t notice his body messed up like this, mysterious bite marks–and you came inside. You sick fuck.”

Anton could only bite his cheek as his elders scolded him.

Together, they used warm wet towels to wipe down your body. You tried your best to remain still like you were asleep, but it tickled in some places. You were going to crack eventually so you had to play it off. You groaned, gently opening your eyes, “huh? What the–“ You sat up sharply but held your side where Anton had bruised you. “What happened?!”

Eunseok and Seunghan looked at you, at each other, and then back to you.

“Anton fucked you and damn near broke your back, blame him.” Seunghan put his hands up, “Eunseok and I were forced into helping him.”

You glared at Anton, “You what?!”

Eunseok whispered, “Sweetness, you don’t care about Anton anymore. Forget about that and just focus on how to repay us for helping you.”

Your head flopped down as your eyes went out of focus.

“Perfect.”

Seunghan turned to Anton, “We’ll keep this a secret if you keep our deal. If not, then y/n will remember everything. Maybe even hate you.”

Anton looked at you, “I hope you guys know what you’re doing…”

“The same as you! Now get the hell out and keep a watch for the others.”

Eunseok and Seunghan helped you up, wrapping a towel around your waist. You were guided to the bathroom and seated on the toilet lid. “Okay, a shower may be out of the question. We can’t explain him walking out of the shower like this. Anton seriously did a number on him.” The boys spent some time thinking.

You started getting impatient so you pressed that you were waking up. You groaned as your head drifted to one side.

“We’re running out of time, the others will be home soon. If we want to do something, now’s the time,” Eunseok warned.

Seunghan’s face lit up with an idea, “I’ve got an idea that can get us some alone time with him. While also getting back at those two fuckers for tricking us.” The boys discussed their diabolical plan in front of you. It was devious and almost crazy hearing them talk about what to do about you like you weren’t a person. It was kind of hot…

The boys brought you clothes dressed you, then had you sleep in their room. The front door opened, and you heard their plan launch into action. You couldn’t help but peek out the door to see down the hall as it unfolded. Seunghan had the group sitting at the table, most of them shivering from the cold while Anton shook out of anxiety. “So, I’ll give you the chance to come clean first. To prove you show at least a little remorse,” Seunghan tapped his foot on the floor expectantly.

The others exchanged looks with each other until one by one they stopped on Anton who was turning pale. Sungchan spoke first while giving Anton a death glare, “What are they talking about?”

Anton looked at everyone, fear across his face. Sungchan was a death threat, and Seunghan had a knowing smirk on his face. He was going to throw him under the bus! “I-I fucked y/n!” The others complained in protest. “But, so did Sungchan!”

Sungchan leaped to his feet, “You rat!”

“Those two did it two!” Anton pointed at Seunghan and Eunseok.

Eunseok shook his head, “Not even. We heard Anton going at it right when we got home from our errand and caught him in the act.”

“That’s not-“

“Shut it!” Seunghan commanded, “Clearly no one can be trusted around him. He’ll be sleeping in our room. Alone. For the rest of his time here. And he can’t be alone with anyone, there’s always got to be a second person present.”

The group nodded in agreement.

“But what about these two?” Sohee pointed at Anton and Sungchan.

“Since you two are the least trustworthy here, you’ll spend some time with each other. Without y/n. We’ll order him to ignore you completely.”

Shotaro stood, “Won’t that affect him much later? We don’t want to cause any permanent damage.”

“Sho, they’ve already crossed a line! I think it’s more than an appropriate punishment, and if y/n knew they’d want the same. Maybe even worse.”

Wonbin raised his hand. “Should we just tell him?”

Anton and Sungchan spoke, “No, you can’t!”

“Why not?” Sohee raised an eyebrow, "This is serious. We should tell him."

Anton tried to explain, “If he knows that, he’ll never want to see us again. We’re a group, if he wants to see you he’ll still see us. Or even being around you may remind him of us. What if he gets PTSD or something?”

“What the hell did you do to give him PTSD!?”

“N-Nothing, it’s just an example!”

Eunseok snapped, “Stop shouting! You’ll wake him up! We'll decide if we'll tell him by dinner.”

Shotaro’s eyes popped open, “Where is he?”

“In me and Seunghan’s room, where I think he should stay to recover. Anton went crazy, bruises and bite marks…” The others scowled at Anton while the youngest hung his head in shame.

Sungchan’s face was red with anger. “Bite marks and bruises!?”

Anton put his hands up defensively, “You’re not any better than me, you made him suck you off in the middle of the night! He was barely awake to register it.” Sungchan’s mouth hung open at Anton’s defiance. Every word just made the situation worse and everyone needed some space. The group decided something needed to be done to punish the members who broke the rule. As part of their punishment, Anton and Sungchan were forced to cook and clean as long as you stayed with them. And do whatever you asked them to do–if you’d acknowledge them.

While the guilty made dinner, Seunghan showed the others the scene of the crime–Your body, fully clothed, still showed signs of surviving Anton, purple tint to some areas of skin and teeth marks.

Sohee frowned, "Should we give him ice or something?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Wonbin and Sohee left together to get you some ice, leaving Eunseok and Seunghan to watch over you. Your eyes were closed but you could hear shuffling in the room as the boys whispered to each other.

"Wake him up, quickly!"

You felt the warmth of someone's presence near you as you were gently shaken. "Y/n, wake up for a second," Eunseok spoke to you softly, like always.

You slowly opened your eyes, wincing in pain. "Jesus, my fucking back. What is it, Eunseok?"

Eunseok's eyebrows knit together as Seunghan kept watch at the door. "I... Can I ask for something?"

"Of course, name it."

"Say I wanted to go out with you. Or like get with you–theoretically... Would I have a shot?"

You giggle at his kind words. "Sure, Eunseok. I don't think I'd mind going out with you."

"Even if we went far with it, like sex?"

You nodded, "If we're compatible, then maybe."

"Can it be a yes or a no?"

"Gosh, Eunseok, I haven't put much thought into it. Yes, I can see us having sex, but is this the best time for this?"

"No, you're right–I'll bring it up later."

"Okay," You winked at him.

"Eunseok, you done?" Seunghan looked over his shoulder, "I think the others are coming back."

"I'm sorry." Eunseok held your hand tightly and whispered, "Sweetness when I come to your room tonight. We're going to have sex, okay?"

You let your eyes lose focus as you slowly nodded.

He smiled at you as your eyes came back into focus. Your head cocked to the side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Eunseok said as he stepped away from you.

Wonbin and Sohee came into the room with water and ice packs. The four boys comforted you as Sungchan and Anton made dinner. The dinner table was almost completely silent. You were seated between Eunseok and Seunghan with Anton and Sungchan kept at the far end of the table.

"This food is great you two!" You complimented, trying to lift the mood.

"Thanks, y/n," Anton's smile faded as the others glared at him.

There was only silence and nervous glances between everyone as they tried to find the words to tell you. You looked at Sungchan, hoping he'd know what to do. He nodded and stood up. "I have a confession," He said hoarsely.

Seunghan stood up too, much to your surprise. "I've got something to say and want to speak first." Sungchan was glad to take the spotlight off himself as he sat down. The group watched Seungahn closely as he spoke, "Y/n, you're too smart for us! We've been trying to keep it a secret, but the guys and I have prepared a surprise for you!" Seunghan smiled as winked at the others for support. "Let's not tell them the surprise yet, we're not ready to show it yet," He emphasized his words to get his point across.

Sungchan joined him, "Yes, I was about to say more than I should've!"

Anton nodded rapidly as the others slowly joined in agreement. Wonbin locked eyes with you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You smiled at him with a wink. "What can I say? You guys suck at hiding secrets!"

"As a part of the surprise, we need you to sleep in Seunghan's room for tonight. We might need to move stuff and we don't want to wake you up if you're in the living room," Eunseok explained.

You nodded in understanding, "That's fine. I can't wait to see what it is!"

After Seunghan's announcement, the mood picked up a little more. You ignored the slight pain in your side from Anton blowing your back out as you continued eating dinner. You decided to call it a night after eating, feeling "weirdly exhausted", and the boys encouraged you to sleep as they cleaned the kitchen. You could hardly hear them whisper from inside Seunghan's room, but you knew you'd get another visit in the night soon enough. You weren't planning on sleeping, only pretending until someone arrived. You passed out with a full belly in less than ten minutes. You awoke in complete darkness, the sound of the door opening and closing as someone entered the room. Even though you were waiting for it, your heart raced as you could barely make out two forms through your squinted eyes.

"Make sure the door's locked," Seunghan whispered.

"It is," Eunseok replied. One of the shadows moved closer to you until you could make out Eunseok's features on its face. You closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep as your body started sweating in expectation. Eunseok's voice was low and gentle, "Sweetness, I'm here. Wake up."

You slowly open your eyes. "Eunseok? Is that you?"

"Y-Yeah, it's me." He took your hand in his. "You remember what we talked about earlier today?" His voice shook nervously.

"About wanting to go out with me?"

"And the other thing."

"Remind me, I can't remember."

"You said, we could fuck," Eunseok said plainly.

You giggle, "Eunseok, are you asking to have sex with me right now?"

He muttered something about how he had the most consent out of the members but discarded the thought when you tried to listen closer. "Yeah, I'm here to have sex with you," He said confidently.

You turned your attention to the second shadow. "Is there someone else in here?"

Eunseok nodded. "It's Seunghan."

"And he's here to watch?"

"Or participate if you'll allow? Which, I’ve got a feeling, you'll say yes. Sweet–"

Eunseok cut him off in a whisper, "Seunghan!"

"Sweet boy," Seunghan finished. You held in a smirk as Seunghan still found time to tease Eunseok. "What do you say? Want a package deal?"

"A threesome is ambitious," You tried to sound unsure. "What if they hear?"

"Don't worry about the others. They can't interfere, even if they want, it's just us," Seunghan assured you.

You threw aside the bedsheet, showing off your legs as you'd shaken out of your shorts. "Then, I suppose we could have a bit of fun."

Eunseok leaned in and kissed you as Seunghan moved over to you, letting his hands run up your warm legs. Seunghan's approach was fast and smooth, tenderly kissing your inner thighs as he found your most sensitive parts and biting at them. Eunseok was more intimate, slow, and gentle like he was almost scared to touch you. He cupped your face as he ate your lips. Seunghan's biting made you moan into Eunseok's mouth, which made both attack you more passionately.

Both raked their hands over your body as you squirmed under them.

They both pulled away and undressed themselves.

Eunseok whispered in your ear, "Who do you want first?"

"I pick?"

He nodded. "We both want you, but you're the one who's got a choice."

"You should go first, you did ask," You kissed Eunseok's nose as he positioned himself between your legs, Seunghan moving to the side of your head.

Eunseok slipped his fingers inside you easily. "Stretched out... I can just stick it in now." You nodded, almost begging as you held your breath. Eunseok slapped his cock against your ass a few times as he pushed you to arch your back. He put in his tip and slowly sank into you. Even after Anton, Eunseok stretched your hole–his cock being wider than the youngest Riize member. Eunseok groaned as you tightened around him.

Seunghan rubbed your cheek with his cock, its hot tip leaving a sticky wet kiss. You stroked it a few times, but Eunseok's increasing pace made it difficult to aim it into your mouth.

"Silly, baby, you need help?" Seunghan cooed as he rotated you, forcing Eunseok to move as well while inside you. Your head hung off the bed as Seunghan held your neck for support. "Just relax," He said as he slid his dick into your mouth. It glided into a comfortable position in your throat, you moving your throat to squeeze it tightly.

The two of them fucked you at a rhythm as one pushed in and the other pulled out. Starting slow and then moving faster, tears streamed down your face. It was Eunseok that broke first.

"I'm going to cum, inside, cumming–" Eunseok's cock was suddenly pulled out of you as Seunghan pulled you closer to him. You throated more cock into your mouth as Eunseok cum shot up and rained down on you. "Seung, what the fuck!?"

Seunghan pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath. "I can't let you make a mess before I've had a turn."

Eunseok sucked on his teeth as Seunghan forced him out of the way. The boys switched spots as you lay there in anticipation for round two. Eunseok bitterly stroked his sensitive cock over your face as Seunghan hooked your leg onto his shoulder.

"Brace yourself, a real man's taking care of you now," Seunghan said as he pushed himself in completely. You opened your mouth, trying to restrain the moan that threatened to escape. You pulled Eunseok into your mouth, filling you so the sound couldn't slip out. Eunseok's body twitched and shook as you focused on licking and sucking him, his moans high-pitched and rapid. Seunghan grunted as his hips snapped, slamming into you. It was completely different from the kindness Eunseok had shown you, Seunghan's cock dug into you with a vein at the bottom that flexed every time he thrust it, making it just a little bigger.

"Still this tight? Even after all the cock you've been through?" Seunghan teased.

You let Eunseok out of your mouth, working him over with your hand. "Anton was just a little clumsy, that's all."

The boys froze in the realization of what you'd said.

"Anton?" Seunghan looked at your face, "You know about that?"

"Yes," You groaned as you tried to move your ass, "Sungchan too."

"How–"

"Not hypnotized. Talk later, fuck now!"

Seunghan laughed wryly. "You're just a slut then? I can work with that. Lying sluts deserve a beating." Seunghan put your other leg over his shoulder and leaned forward, pushing his weight down on you as your knees touched your chest. Seunghan was in an almost plank, like a push-up form, as he pulled to leave just this tip inside you, then slammed into you. You screamed at the intensity Seunghan was fucking you, but you were getting too loud. "Eunseok, gag him or something!" Seunghan commanded.

You looked over at Eunseok whose cock was red and dripping, but still hard. "That, gimme. Please Eunseok, I need your cock."

Eunseok slowly accepted his fate, bracing for the overstimulation as you took him back into your mouth. His hand clasped over his mouth as you moved yourself around his length. Eunseok's cock twitched and spilled a full load of cum into your mouth, as he drooled into his hand. His eyes twitched as you continued sucking, forcing him to hold the side of the bed so he didn't collapse.

Even though your mouth was full, Seunghan was determined to make you lose your mind. He slammed into you without restraint, the clap of your skin loud in your ears as he groaned and grunted. "Slut, slut, slut! Are you getting off at tricking us? You know all of us want to fuck you, and you think you can get away with baiting me. I'll make sure we get even too!" His thrusts lost their speed but somehow got harder as he got close to his orgasm. Seunghan tossed one of your legs off his shoulder as he pushed you toward Eunseok, forcing you to deepthroat him, while Eunseok cried at being used. He held Eunseok in place with his free arm. While you choked on Eunseok, Seunghan came inside you. He slammed you for each pump of cum that poured into you.

After he finished, he put your other leg down and Eunseok pulled out your mouth.

You were a mess all over again. Spit, tears, and cum stained your skin, mostly your face. You'd ended up cumming three times, once from Eunseok and twice from Seunghan. Your cock throbbed as it lay on your stomach softening.

Eunseok, finally able to relax, fell onto the bed twitching. "That was... amazing."

Seunghan pulled out of you, letting his cum drip out. "I agree, we should do that again," He winked as he smacked your thigh, making you wince. "Now, explain yourself."

You take a moment to breathe and then explain what happened. Wonbin snapped you out of the hypnosis, Sungchan throat fucked you, and then Anton jumped in before they did. Seunghan called you a slut at least four more times while you explained.

Eunseok, finally calm enough to form real words, asked, "So the only ones who don't know are Shotaro and Sohee? And Wonbin didn't hit either?"

You nodded. You could feel your throat swelling from its recent abuse. It would be a miracle if you could speak correctly by tomorrow morning.

"We'll keep up the act if you want. But Taro and Sohee are going to be difficult. You'll probably have to seduce them since they're so polite." Seunghan got dressed and threw Eunseok some clothes. "Now, let's get you cleaned up. We can help you get the others."

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #riize #riize seunghan #riize eunseok #riize smut #riize x reader #riize x imagine #riize x y/n #x male smut #x male reader #kpop male reader #x male y/n #riize x male reader #x reader #kpop male idol #male reader

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sebscore · 9 months

Text

MEET CUTE WITH THE GUY ON THE BUS | MICK S.

pairing: mick schumacher x fem!reader

warnings: just fluff + i still dont know how to write endings so until i have figured that out, you are gonna have to deal with it :)

author's note: based on this tiktok !! thought it was such a cute idea for a fic and mickolas was the perfect person for this- such a mama's boy!!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

Sending telepathic messages to cute guys on the bus wasn't her usual routine, often staring out the large windows and observing the busy streets of the large city, but here she was.

She took the bus regularly enough to know that the broad shouldered blond, who was showing his mother something on his phone, wasn't someone that took the public transport vehicle as much as she did.

Y/N had been eyeing him the moment he stepped on, holding what she assumed was his mother's rather big and heavy handbag.

Unfortunately for her, the young man wasn't glancing back at her. It wasn't a huge deal, she wasn't expecting him to get up from his seat and declare his undying love for her, but some sort of acknowledgement from the guy would have fed her delusions that would have her dreaming about him for at least a week.

Her stop was getting nearby so she stationed herself closer to the exit doors, strongly grabbing onto the metal pole for stabilisation. The young woman increased the volume of her phone, the voice of Lana Del Rey blasting through her earphones.

Y/N was deep into 'Cinnamon Girl', imagining herself to be in a music video, when a gentle tap on her shoulder made her turn around with force- flinching due to the sudden touch. Big blue orbs stared into her own eyes that had widened as a result of the surprising disturbance.

It was the cute guy she had been shamelessly checking out from the moment he hopped on.

''Uhm, can- oh.'' She had started speaking, but interrupted herself once she noticed him holding his phone out to her, his notes app displayed on the screen.

You are beautiful.

The mystery man had written out, a blush forming on his cheeks and ears as she read it, mouthing the words. Her eyes flickered from his phone back to him. ''Me?'' She took out her wired earphones, pausing her music.

''Yes.'' He giggled, closing his phone and placing it back in his pocket.

''Oh my- I thought you were so beautiful.'' Y/N replied back, getting a small squeal out of his mother who stood behind him.

Her response had him grow shy, unable to form a processed answer back for her. However, the bus stopped and the doors opened. There was this tense air for a second that quickly disappeared once they realised they were getting off on the same stop.

The three of them walked out of the bus, his mother staying a little behind her son- giving the flustered pair their space.

The blond seemed too shy to tell her anything so Y/N took the first step. ''It was, uh, nice to meet you.'' In her head, this would be the end of their ''meet cute''. This is the part where they split and never see each other again- becoming a ''what if'' scenario.

''Yeah, you too.'' He stuttered out.

''Bye, have a nice day.'' She bid them goodbye, walking towards the direction of her home. The slightly disappointed woman put on her earphones again, re-starting her song- while texting her best friend about the interaction that just happened.

Corinna bumped her shoulder with her son's. ''What are you doing, Mick? Go after her.'' She exclaimed, surprised he just stood still in his place.

''I don't know, Mama.'' Mick doubted himself despite the obvious mutual infatuation with the young woman he had met.

She grabbed her handbag from him and gave him a small, but effective push towards the girl. ''Go get her name and phone number! You're going to regret it otherwise.'' She hyped him up, knowing it would be a missed opportunity.

Mick got a rush of adrenaline through his body as his mother gassed him up, chasing the woman down the street. He stopped in front of her, halting Y/N in her tracks and started speaking before the realisation of what he was doing caught up with him. ''Sorry, I just- can I have your name and maybe your phone number?'' He breathed out.

The woman in front of him chuckled at his out-of-breath state. ''Yeah, I'm Y/N.'' She smiled, making him even more flustered.

''I'm Mick.'' He introduced himself, shyly looking down at the ground.

''So Mick, you want my number as well?'' His red face gave her a bit more confidence, asking the question with a grin on her face.

He nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. ''Only if you want to, of course.'' He added quickly, not wanting to come across as demanding.

''I do.'' With her consent, Mick opened his contacts app and handed his phone over to her. She typed in her number, dubbing herself as 'Girl on the bus' on the display name.

''Thank you,'' Mick dreamily looked at her contact details, ''I, uh, hope to see you again.'' He admitted.

''Yeah, me too.'' Y/N beamed. She couldn't help but keep glancing at his face, his blue eyes practically asking to be admired.

Corinna eventually caught up with them, giving her son a teasing look. ''It's very nice to meet you and hopefully, I'll see you soon.'' The older woman told Y/N, Mick's face turning even more red as his mother embarrassed him.

''It's very nice to meet you too.''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 fluff #f1 x you #f1 imagines #mick schumacher

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stealingyourbones · 7 months

Note

Why does DC hate Jason Todd so much??? He's literally Babey!!! 🥺

You probably aren’t me expecting to respond to this factually but fuck it here we go. Because he was a little rat fuck who replaced their favorite Robin character for a shitty carbon copy.

I wasn’t in the comic scene, or alive, when that happened in comics, but Jason originally was a carbon copy of Dick. He grew up in a circus, was in an acrobatic troupe called the Flying Todd’s, and his parents died by the hands of Two-Face.

The next Crisis had his backstory changed but the fans still viewed him as the bad Walmart version of Robin.

(For the readers:)He was a shitty replacement for Dick Grayson that had been Robin for so long and readers didn’t like the new guy taking over the role.

He doesn’t have a memorable Robin stand-alone series, he was uncharacteristically ruthless for a robin, he replaced Dick and didn’t have any of the Grayson charm that made Robin so loveable, he was arrogant at times and bashed in general. People wanted Dick. Not this other guy.

Nowadays why they hate him?

Simple and yet layered reason:

He went from a very wonderful villain in the comics and got later boiled down to an anti hero. Most people I know that dislike Jason now preferred his villain arc. I prefer it too honestly but if we didn’t have anti hero Jason, we wouldn’t have the interactions he has with the batfamily at all and I really enjoy those scenes in the comics.

His characterization is all over too. He goes from absolutely batshit insane in some comics to angsty ninja boy, to essentially a little bit feistier Ric Grayson (I’m so sorry it’s my take DC fans please don’t fight me).

Also, his death was a BIG thing in comics and him coming back ruined the meaning behind his death.

Back in the day there were three deaths in comics that always happened and never changed. They were deaths that grew other characters around them. Those three were:

- Bucky Barnes from Captain America

- Jason Todd from Batman

- Uncle Ben from Spider-Man

Their deaths hold major stepping stones to character arc changes and how the main character acted for the rest of the comics. They were always the main characters greatest tragedy and a core part of their lore.

Of course two of these are now changed. Bucky Barnes is back as the Winter Soldier and Jason is back as Red Hood.

But that death was sacred for a while. For 20 years he was dead. He was Batman’s greatest tragedy. You did not fuck with Batman’s greatest sorrow. And they did it after (incel) Superman Prime punched the universe so hard Jason Todd came back to life.

Additionally, lots of comic writers just don’t fucking want to deal with him. Same with Damian I feel like. They throw both under the bus because they’d rather be writing other characters.

Most of this is my observations but if anyone else has any other comments to add feel free.

#bones replies #DC comics #red hood #Jason Todd

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ursuburbanmother · 22 days

Text

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Two

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Hi guys! Back with chapter two!! Thank you for all the love last chapter! You guys are too sweet! I hope you like this chapter as well, although we get a little angsty in this one oops. Also author note at the end!

Word count: 5k.

Find: Part 1

Enjoy!

December 17th, 1970. Still.

Paul Hunham didn’t think his luck could get any worse but then that moron at the Janie Patrick's Girl School had to go make his problems, his. Then at the young lady’s arrival Angus Tully practically had hearts popping out his eyes like those cartoon characters on TV. That would be an issue. An issue he had to deal with at once.

As the boys grumbled and moaned on their way to the infirmary, as if they were the Athenians sent to march to Marathon in 490 BC, he made his way to the kitchen, looking for a certain cook.

“Hello, Mary,” he greets. She sits at her desk with a cigarette between two fingers, writing something down in her notebook.

“Mr. Hunham. I heard you got stuck with babysitting duty this year. How’d you manage that?” Her tone tiptoes on the edge of teasing.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I failed someone who richly deserved it.”

“The Osgood kid? Yeah, he was a real asshole. Rich and dumb. Popular combination around here.”

“It’s a plague. Uh, and you? You’ll be here, too?” God, he hopes she is. He doesn’t think he will be able to survive as the only adult on the school grounds.

To his relief she nods her head, “All by my lonesome. My little sister Peggy and her husband invited me to go visit them in Roxbury, but I feel like it’s too soon. Like Curtis will think that I’m abandoning him, you know. This is the last place my baby and I were together, not including the bus station.”

Paul pursues his lips, unsure of what to say. “Well, maybe you won't be completely alone. How would you feel about letting a female student sleep in the staff common room? We could push some couches together, I'm sure. Make a nice bed that way.”

“Female student? What do you mean?”

“I’m unsure about the exact details, but I have been entrusted by the idiots across the lake with taking care of one of their students.”

“Ahh,” Mary is beginning to understand.

He nods, “Her name is Y/n L/n, I think she and Tully are in cahoots somehow. You should've seen the way he looked at her.”

“Oh no, don't do that though. You can’t have that poor girl sleep on a lumpy couch all break. She needs a bed.”

“I just want this whole ordeal to go smoothly. If I can keep those two as far away as possible, I believe all will be well.”

“Please that Tully boy wouldn't try anything. Sometimes he is the only one to say thank you when we place the food down on the lunch tables.”

Paul mulls it over for a second. “I suppose I could give it a try. Not that I think it is wise.”

Mary smiles slightly, “I know those kids are hard to handle but hold out hope for them. Some trust too. It's not too late yet. Their brains are still moldable or whatever corny crap you teachers say.”

Paul smiles slightly, his attention pulled to the bottle of bourbon on her desk, “You mind if I uh…”

“You want some of that? All right.”

“Thank you.”

“You know this is a necessity,” Mary says as she pours the liquid into a mug for him.

“Oh yes,” for life, love, pain or the next two weeks. Paul understands too well.

…

“Put the bed farther away Angus,” you say, your arms on your hips and you watch him struggle to drag his bed closer to yours.

“Why? Do I smell or something?”

“It's already a stretch to think he might let us sleep in the same room, he's definitely not going to let your bed be that close to mine.”

Huffing he begins to scoot it back to its original place, “Fine.”

Music has started blaring loudly from where Teddy and Jason are bunking in. Park and Ollerman are minding their business in their own space. You are across, what you think will be the place Mr. Hunham will stay in. Your hope is that him having an accessible view will make him more lenient towards you and Angus, despite his earlier warning of having you be on your own.

You situate your lavender near the window and begin to unpack your things. Angus does the same and you can hear his rustling get faster.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“My…” He trails off. Suddenly he storms off like a man on a mission. You ignore the magazine you were flipping through and let it fall on the floor as you get up to follow him.

You see him head directly towards Kountze. “Where’s my photo?”

“What photo?”

“I think you know what photo, and you stole it.”

“I resent that baseless accusation.”

“Give me my goddamn picture!” Angus shouts.

“Hey man, if you took the photo just give it back,” you plead exasperatedly to Teddy, already tired of his whole innocent act.

“Stay out of it Y/n, it's alright,” Angus assures you and you move back to lean against the doorway. You sort of hope Angus socks him.

Kountze leaps to his feet and stalks towards him, “You need your girlfriend to defend you now? Seriously, what's your problem, Tully? Homesick? Maybe the little boy misses his mommy?”

“Fuck you, Kountze. Leave her out of it. And hey, why are you even here anyway? Where’s your family?”

“We’re renovating our house. It’s all torn up. They’re storing the tools and stuff in my room.” “That’s what they told you? It’s winter, idiot. Nobody renovates their house in the winter. Your parents don’t want you around because you’re a fucking insecure sociopath.”

“Hey, take it easy, guys.”

You can see Angus getting angrier. His shoulders are tense and in a last ditch effort you go up to him and whisper in his ear, “Punch him later. In private. Hunham won’t even hear our reasoning for rooming together. He’ll punish you by punishing me.”

Misery loves company, right? That was the saying at least. In your mind, suffering with Angus was better than the alternative. You didn’t want to spend these two weeks inside a glass case. From what you had seen, Hunham would have no problem in making you sit at your own lunch table or study in a separate classroom. You know that is what Ms. Orchard would have done if she was forced to take in the boys. She would have locked you in your dorm and insisted it was because you would “distract” them.

You can see the gears turning in Angus’s mind. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally nods before turning back to glare at Kountze. “You’re an asshole. I just needed you to know that.”

He turns around to retreat back to the room only to run straight into Mr. Hunhams chest. Angus leaps off and leans his back against the wall. Your own eyes widened, you hadn’t even heard the man's footsteps.

He surveys the room and notes all your disheveledness. Teddy's face looks flushed while Angus is still trying to control his heavy breathing. Everyone is completely silent and too scared to even make a move.

“What is going on here?”

“They weren’t fighting,” Alex squeaked. Mr. Hunham only seems to grow more suspicious. He shifted his sights to you and his eyebrow begins to raise, “They weren’t bothering you were they.”

“No. We were just talking,” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What about?”

“Hmm?” You hum, straightening up.

“What were you all discussing mere seconds before I barged in on what, I am sure, was a highly intellectual conversation.”

“Shocking Blue,” you blurt out and Hunham turns his head as if asking for clarification. “The band that was on the radio.”

“Yeah, we love Shocking Blue,” Angus nods. The rest of the boys chime in, faking their agreement.

“They’re so good.”

“I listen to them all the time.”

Mr. Hunham continues to look unconvinced. Without a word he walks out, and you all collectively let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, you all stare at each other with giddiness. Like when you're a kid and get away with stealing a cookie from the cooling tray. You let yourself relax but shrivel back up upon the echo of Mr. Hunham's haunting voice, “Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n, in here. NOW.”

You frown, gazing up at Angus, “I think he found the room.”

…

After a stern talking to, Mr. Hunham begrudgingly agreed to let you and Angus sleep in the same room. He took a string of jingle bells that hung from a nearby Christmas decoration and tied it around Angus’s bedpost so that if he dared to move, he would hear it. You two were just fine with that.

Later you were escorted to the large dining hall. Mr. Hunham sat at the head of the table as the rest of you indulged in mindless chatter. You and Angus were on your third round of rock, paper, scissors, competing for nothing, when a lady came in to set down a platter of chicken, potatoes and asparagus.

“Lovely. Thank you, Mary.” the older man says.

You wait for the initial rush of grubby hands and pushing elbows to pass before you serve yourself, when you find that Angus already did it for you. He sets down the plate in front of you and then gets himself a serving of the green vegetable on his own dish.

“Didn’t we already have this for lunch?” Jason asks.

“And it was crappy then,” Teddy says through his eager chewing. You gag at the scene.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

The woman from earlier, that you now know is Mary, returns with some water. You give her a passing smile which she returns.

“Mary, maybe you’d, um, maybe you would care to join us,” Hunham stumbles through his words.

Kountze looks up from his food then glances at you with alarm. Like he can't fathom the idea of sitting with the cook.

You think Mary can sense his disdain when you notice her demeanor sour after a glimpse in his direction. “No, I’m all right. Thank you.” She escapes through the kitchen doors.

Teddy pipes up, “I mean, I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s getting paid to do a job. And she should do it well, right?”

The chewing and scraping of silverware halts. You and Angus gauge each other's reaction, both of you completely shocked and slightly horrified. That boy for some reason just never knows when to shut up and continues, “But I guess no matter how bad a cook she is, now they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up!” Mr. Hunham yells loud enough for you to flinch. He slams his fork and knife down. “You have no idea what that woman has… For most people, Mr. Kountze, life is like a henhouse ladder -- shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat!”

…

You're on your bed and catching up on some reading and soaking in the orange hue that the bedside lamp offers you. The boys are still getting ready for bed, and you were graciously offered the first shift in the showers. You’re waiting for your hair to dry when Angus walks in with his pajamas on, and a towel draped over his shoulders.

“You look very dapper,” You smirk.

“Thank you,” he plops down into his mattress. “You think Walleye is still mad?”

“Probably. I don’t blame him.”

“It made for a pretty awkward evening though.”

“Not one of the worst dinners I ever had. I’d rather endure another night like this than any dinner with my parents.”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, “Your parents... You never did tell me the reason why you’re here holding over.”

You shuffle around in your bed and bring your blanket up to your neck, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on, it's just me now. Tell me. I told you!”

“It's no big reason, just small ones. They didn’t specify. I didn’t want to go home. It's complicated.”

“Okay you just gave like four different excuses right there. What happened? Is it super embarrassing? Did they forget about you or something,” he laughs.

You wince at his words and pray that the world opens up and swallows you whole. Realization dawns on his face, “Oh shit. Did they?”

You nod solemnly and begin picking on the thread of the blanket, trying to make the threading come undone.

“How could they do that? The same assholes who always make a huge deal about RSVPs and invitations. Seriously?”

“It’s alright. I’ll live. I mean what would I have done if I was there? I’d be in my room and waiting for them to drag me out so they could introduce me to people. They’d act like doting parents, ditching me a second later to play blackjack with their friends.”

“I’m sorry. I wish you would have told me, we could’ve… I could have done something.”

You smile, “I didn’t tell you cause I know you. You would’ve cursed them out the minute you had hold of them. Anyways, maybe it was faith to get stranded at Barton.”

“Or bad luck,” he quips, “maybe the universe wants us to die of mundanity together.”

“Either or,” you grin. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to bed.”

Angus nods and spreads his long limbs across the bed exaggeratingly before turning to face the wall. “Whatever you want. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight,” you go to turn off the lamp, wondering if you're being paranoid in sensing something off in the way he says your name.

…

Day 4 - December 20st, 1970

The last few days had been the same grueling routine. Mr. Hunham would wake you up with the banging of bedpans and you would groan and try to shove yourself deep into your pillows.

“All right, you fetid layabouts,” he would say, “It’s daylight in the swamp. Arise!”

In the quad you were all forced to run laps. You hadn’t anticipated doing exercise, so you were forced to wear some joggers from the lost and found. You had been able to convince him that walking would be better suited for you and your imaginary cramps. His face had completely paled, and he hadn’t even let you finish speaking when he said you walking would be just fine. Men and their immaturity, you think.

When Angus and the rest of the boys would pass by you, he would glare jokingly at you while you would stick your tongue out and wave him goodbye as he flew past you.

During study hall, you would read some more and ignore the ongoing feud between Kountze and Angus. In the span of the last few days, you must have read three entire books. There was a lot of downtime in between recreational time with Mr. Hunham and dinner.

Today you had all decided to walk along the river. You can hear the church bells in the distance signaling the fact that it is the afternoon. Angus is swinging around a branch while Teddy and Jason pass around a football. You steer clear of both. You walk in sync with Alex and Ye-Joon. You’ve taken a liking to them. They remind you of the little sibling you always wanted but never got.

“What about your car?” Angus suggests, “We could take it, go somewhere. Boston maybe.” Jason shakes his head, “Nah, we’d get in so much trouble. Face it. We’re stuck.”

“If we just had some way to get out of here. Just split,” Angus kicks a pile of snow.

“Well, you could put a chopper down right in the Quad.”

“A what?”

“A helicopter, dumb ass,” Teddy snaps, “His old man’s CEO of Pratt & Whitney.”

“Got his own bird,” Jason confirms, “Takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our backyard. Pilot’s name, Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon awes.

“Yeah. Flew up to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me,” he shrugs.

“Flying with presents, like Santa Claus,” Alex comments with glee.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistles and tilts his head for Teddy to “go long.” They play catch, getting farther from the group as they go.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar,” Alex reminisces. You smile sadly at the boy.

“That sounds so nice,” Ye-Joon agrees.

Kountze runs back suddenly and grabs one of Alex’s gloves and throws it into the river.

“What's wrong with you?” You intervene.

“Hey!” Alex says simultaneously.

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, little Mormon,” Teddy laughs, not an ounce of regret at what he just did. You tap Angus’s shoulder as you go trailing after the young boy, “I’m going to go help.”

“It’s gone! My glove’s gone!” Ollerman shouts. You continue searching for it through the clearing.

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose. Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more,” Angus shouts back.

Ollerman looks to be on the verge of tears. He stares down at his hands and starts walking down a snowy ramp. He throws the other glove before you can do anything to stop it. He watches it disappear downstream as you make your own way down.

“Did your mother make you that?”

He nods. “It’s alright. I know where he keeps his wallet. We’ll steal it and buy a new one.”

You manage to bring out a muffled laugh from him. You consider it a win.

…

Angus wakes up in the middle of the night to see you knitting. He gets up from the bed to see your progress.

“Oh hello, grandma,” he scoffs. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Girl scouts before I quit. You guys had a bunch of yarn just rotting behind your auditorium stage. Did you know that?”

“No? Are you making that for the kid?”

“Yeah, I feel bad.”

“That looks like crap,” Angus chuckles as he messes around with the gloves fingers. You swat his hand away.

“I never said I earned the badge. Besides, it's the thought that counts.”

“I’m going to get a glass of water. You want some?”

“No thanks.”

Angus leaves the room, only to return a couple seconds later.

“Ye-Joon is crying,” he whispers. You furrow your eyebrows and get up to follow him. His cries become louder, and you turn the corner to see the poor boy shivering.

“Are you all right?” You ask.

“I had a nightmare,” You crouch down so you can hear him better.

“Don’t worry we get nightmares too. Right Angus?”

“Yeah, I’m always falling. Or drowning.”

“Also, I had an accident,” he weeps.

You motion for Angus to check. He doesn't have to look far.

“Yeah, you did. Shhh. Stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends,” he sobs full-on. You hush him gently.

“You have plenty of time to make friends. You’re like a freshman, right? I would start worrying when you're fifty and living vicariously through your kids.”

“Yeah man. You could have a thousand friends and not like any of them. What would be the point of having them then,” Angus adds.

“We’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right?” You wipe his tears with a tissue from a Kleenex box nearby. “Find a dry spot and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Park smiles consoled. Before going back to bed you ask him one last thing, “Hey do you like gloves?”

Ye-Joon gives you a quizzical look. …

Day 5 - December 22, 1970

Once again, you’re all studying in silence in a fancy room with portraits of dead white guys on the wall.

Mr. Hunham clears his throat loudly and Jason leans in to mutter in disgust, “Are you kidding me? It’s only eleven and he’s already lit. I can smell the whiskey on him.”

“Can you blame him? It’s freezing in here. It’s fucking Greenland in here,” Angus retorts.

From outside you hear the faint whirring of a machine. Not a car but something else. You all approach the window and spot the helicopter flying above the trees. It lands in the quad just like Jason had said it could. An older man steps out and he looks like one of the men you imagine roam Wall Street.

“He finally caved, the big softie!” Smith exclaims. He all but skips to the door and turns to you all, “Hey, any of you guys like to ski?”

You and Hunham stay behind as the rest go racing after him, filled with hope for what must be the first time in days. He goes to subdue the riot they make as they whoop down the hall, but you stop him by grabbing a hold of the end of his sleeve.

“Uh, sir? If Jason is inviting us, would you have to call our parents?”

“That would be proper protocol, yes.”

“Oh. Is there a way I could stay here then? I never cared for skiing and my parents would say no anyway.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I’d have to ask Woodrup about this first. Come on along,” he clears the path for you.

Grumbling, you find your way to the administrative offices. Hunham, Jason and his father shut themselves in a room. The boys along with Angus all try to listen in on the conversation by pressing their face as close as humanly possible against the glass. You watch from the sideline as Jason gives you guys a thumbs up. The hallway erupts in cheers and a minute later Mr. Hunham steps out with an announcement, “Gentlemen, good news. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents. Most of them, anyway.”

Paul glances at Angus and you. Angus expression falters.

As the rest pack, you find refuge in your room. You can, however, hear Angus’s pleads.

“Try calling again. Just one more time. Please.”

“There’s no point. The desk clerk said no one’s answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

“Excursion,” he repeats.

Mr. Hunham scoffs, “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so. I could be spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Maybe they’re back by now. Just call again.”

“Okay,” he gives in and marches down the corridor.

Ye-Joon had wished you goodbye a moment ago and now does the same for Angus, “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you.”

“Take care, Tully.” Smith follows Park, giving him a pitiful pat on the arm.

You catch Alex as he is about to exit. You’ve wrapped the gloves you worked on endless last night in newspapers. “This is for you. Try not to get them stolen by Teddy again. I don’t think my fingers can handle another round of knitting.”

Ollerman smiles genuinely, giving you a hug you didn’t expect. You’re unable to return it as he has your stiff arms completely glued to your side. You follow him out, and Angus scowls in your direction.

“Why aren’t you more upset about this? That was our only way out and we blew it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Did you really want to go skiing with Kountze that badly?”

“No, I wanted to get out of here badly. Your parents seriously didn’t answer either?”

“Um-.”

“Hey, you know what! Maybe Hunham can call them again and they can take us both in!”

“Angus no-,”

“Yeah, come on! Let's go ask,” he tugs at your hand to get you through the corridor.

“No Angus. I don’t want to.”

“What, why?”

You run your hand through your hair, “I asked Mr. Hunham not to ring them.”

“Wait. So, you didn’t even try to leave!”

“No! I thought I was clear the night we talked about why I didn’t want to go back to that house. If they answer they’ll pull the victim card and be all ‘I can’t believe you guys kept my child from me! Who do I sue?’ before coming to fetch me and berating me all the way back.”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything because I could tell you were upset but you could have at least let them know for both our sakes. Then we could have spent the holidays in a hotel in Boston or something! We didn’t have to stay with them.”

“I knew you were off that night!” You curse the way you’ve managed to read him. “Anyways, with what money? To do what?”

“I don’t-, I don’t know… we could have figured it out.”

“I can’t believe you're getting mad at my decision.”

“It’s a pretty selfish one,” his eyes widened like he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.

You gasp and hit him harshly at his side. “Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re being an asshole right now. I’ve never been madder at you in my entire life.”

“Really? What about that time I spilled mashed potatoes all over your dress? Your face was beet red,” he mocks.

You go to swat at him again only for him to dodge you. You try once more and fail, almost falling onto the floor but stopping yourself by putting your hand on the nearest wall. If you weren’t so angry this would have reminded you of the times you would wrestle when you were eight. Especially now and the way he holds you back by putting his hand on your forehead to keep you at arm's length. You give up with a huff and you b-line to your room.

“Tell Mr. Hunham I won't be at dinner tonight!”

You hear him groan behind the door you slammed shut and then the sound of his footsteps fading. In your solitude you collapse on the bed, letting out a scream into your pillow. Even though it's muffled, you hope Angus can feel it from where he is. That it reaches him and causes goosebumps to arise all over his stupidly long arms. …

You had skipped out on dinner like you said you would. Although Mr. Hunham had been polite enough to bring a plate down to the infirmary. As he handed it to you, he said lowly, “I’m not sure what that little deviant did, but I’m sure it's related to his foul mood and your absence tonight. Let me know if I can do anything.”

You almost wanted to cry at his politeness. Later he invited you to the kitchen common room and claimed there was a TV there. Considering you had only stared at words on a page for the last few days, you jumped at the offer. You saw Mary there and to your displeasure Angus had been forced to tag along so that Mr. Hunham could supervise him.

Your eyes were glued to the television, not letting Angus’s burning stare get the best of you. They were watching “The Newlywed Game” and drinking from mugs. It was not half-bad. In fact, it was starting to get pretty good to see these couples have their relationship crushed within a thirty-minute runtime with ad breaks in between.

The boy had begun throwing pieces of balled up paper at you and you picked them off your hair and tried your damnedest to not pay him any mind. You could hear him tear a new page from that magazine of his and finally you snapped at him. “Will you stop it? You’re wasting paper.”

“Thank God. You’re talking to me,” he stood straighter in his seat. “Here's the thing, I'm sorry. I should have never said that you were selfish. Cause you’re like, not. You’re honestly the most unselfish person I know.”

“I don’t want your apology right now. I’m watching TV.”

“I just got caught up in the moment is all. The truth is that-.”

“Angus, I said I don’t want to hear it!” You raised your voice loud enough to catch the attention of both Mr. Hunham and Mary.

“Everything alright back there?” Hunham takes the pipe out of his mouth to ask.

You get up, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “Can I be excused. I’m pretty tired.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” You pick up your discarded book from the nearby coffee table before leaning down and whispering in Angus' ear, “Don't follow me.”

As you stomp away you hear Mary say, “We need to get those two onto this program. Win us a trip to Bermuda.”

Mr. Hunham lets out a suppressed chuckle, embracing it soon after along with Mary. You roll your eyes at the pair and their drunkenness. You’re comforted by the fact that they’ll have a big headache tomorrow. …

You’re shaken at a frantic rate. You went to sleep early but were awoken now by a mischievous looking Angus. He dangles a set of keys right in front of your face.

“What are you doing?” You squint under the harsh glare of the flashlight.

“Inviting you on a night of adventure. Walleye is completely blacked out. He won’t even notice us gone.”

“No thank you,” you turn away from him and drape your blanket over your head. He tugs it back down.

“Come on. Please?”

“I’m still not in the mood. Plus, now I’m tired.”

“Y/n,” he whines.

“If you find a cookie in a pantry somewhere you know what to do,” you murmur, already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth you feel under the covers.

“Y/n,” he says more seriously, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh. Maybe you had been too harsh. You prop yourself up on your elbows, “It’ll be better tomorrow. We will talk then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He embraces you tightly in a hug. As he parts away, you two are face to face. You’re able to notice his eyes gleam under the light of the moon. You wonder when his eyes got to be that dark of a brown. Those same eyes flicker to your lips. You stare at him wearily as he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. He walks backwards to leave, his back bumping into a nearby lamp. “Shit. Sorry. Uh, goodnight. Bye.”

You were probably disorientated. Sleep deprived most definitely. Or maybe that secondhand smoke finally got to you. Surely you were just seeing things. Because surely, your best friend hadn’t just looked at you the way songs and books always seemed to describe love.

a/n: Thanks again for reading! Just to clarify some things, obviously Y/n knows about Angus’s dad, but just like in the movie, he doesn’t let it show how much it affects him. That’s why Y/n is unaware of why Boston is such a big deal. Anyways bye :)) until next time. Let me know your thoughts.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 2 months

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JUNK MAIL PT.3

What You Need To Hear Right Now

PILE 1 - Gossip, Envy, Controlling, Vampires, Partying & Drinking.

Girl, you are way too pretty to be dealing with all that. Try following your dreams and worry less about the people chatting. That's all they'll ever do. Chattin'. They don't care what karma it leakes off or how you feel so worry less. Do something good for yourself and find a new hobby.

There are boys who want to treat you right, you just gotta figure out which one fits your needs better. Go to a party, grab a drink. Its your time.

PILE 2 - Living alone, Living for you, Depressive Memories, Resilience, Patients & Timing.

Babe, we gotta get outta that funk tonight! Don't let the past be the reason you sit back and forget who you are and where you come from. Divine timing is in your favor, surrender and be still. Painting is significant for this group, emotions need a new outlet. Journaling can help you figure out some past traumas, but over time you should enjoy the moment and see what you can do with that paint brush.

Let go. Allow your cries to be heard, suffering in isolation is not the answer for you boo. Get up!

PILE 3 - Honeymoon, New era, Crying for joy! Celebration, Remembrance.

Congratulations !! You've got it made in this new chapter. The work you've put in is coming forth to bring a new beginning that forces you to in a state of peace, divine gratitude and love. There could be someone new on the horizon, and its a sweet love. Im proud of you, if no one said it first than I'll be the one to do it.

This season is going to be good luck, lady bugs are significant for this group. Popularity, Having a great time, enjoying life. Yeah baby, thats all you.

PILE 4 - Get out of town. Vacation. Bus Ride. Take A Trip.. Now.

Oh boy, is everything alright ? Feeling clastrophobic? Same show different story? It's time to hit the road, love. Go to that beach, go get you a travel buddy.. Or go solo. You need this break. It'll be a stress relief for you. You need to give yourself a mental and emotional break, so you could have more time to conquer any challenges coming your way.

Take this time time to heal and put energy into the reality you wanna see more of babe. It's not the end of the world. Don't make it out to be.

For each and every group, this is your 'me' era. Focus on you girl, nobody needs to see yall sweat.

#psychic reading #channeler #healer #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot #oracle readings #psychic #psychic readings #free readings #intuitive #intuitive readings

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stormlight-archive · 4 months

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Posting my thoughts on modern au kaladin since i haven't made a post compiling everything yet lol

Modern kaladin is the type of guy to deal with his depression in a severely heterosexual male way.

He is a "health-maxxer"–Someone who strategises their own health. The type of person to buy a gram scale so he can measure out the right amount of sodium and potassium to add to his water bottle to get his daily electrolytes. The type of guy who eats boiled eggs or tuna from the can, or turkey meat not because he likes it but because it has high protein.

He's a gym rat. He spends almost all of his free time there. He thinks it helps with his depression but honestly its causing him to avoid his social life and reasserting his beliefs that he isn't allowed to relax.

He's technologically out of the loop. He has youtube facebook, he keeps facebook so his parents can stay up to date on his life and he watches those sped up water jet cleaning or restoration videos on youtube. He sends youtube shorts to his friends via messenger. None of his friends–especially Shallan and Adolin–can comprehend how a man can be stuck this far under a rock.

He's the type of person that if you're ever struggling to get your life together he will do everything in his power to help but his methods of helping are unorthodox and honestly pretty autistic. You complain about your job? He will google your workers rights and see if your boss is exploiting you.

You need directions on where to go? He won't give you directions, he will take you there himself and then ask you to list which bus you took and what street you passed to get there, so you remember for next time.

You're afraid of confronting someone or booking an appointment? He'll do it for you. He'll stand up for you. He doesn't even need to think about it.

Kaladin is honestly very clean and would probably make a great roommate, if he wasn't adamant about living alone. He doesn't procrastinate on chores and he honestly doesn't really understand why other people arn't the same.

He has a very strategic way of doing chores that makes perfect sense to him but probably looks strange from an outside perspective.

Kaladin lives in a small, probably overpriced apartment, the furniture is sparse and very r/malelivingspace, he has a hair care routine but not a face care routine, and college is destroying him mentally.

Oh also his taste in music is mostly a mix of imagine dragons, coldplay, fall out boy, maybe twenty one pilots if hes feeling zesty.

#love you kaladin #you suck so much

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softtdaisy · 11 months

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DESCRIPTION I All your relationship with Charles was based on dares. How far can it go before it becomes too much?

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × fem!reader

WORDS COUNT I 3,7k

A/N I I never thought I would go this far with this story but I'm so happy with the way it turned out. I really hope you will like it as much as I loved writing it 💜

Ever since the day you met, you and Charles had been playing the same silly game. In French, they called cap ou pas cap. The idea was to dare the other person to do something.

It all started during your parents’ wedding.

Being six years old at a wedding was the funniest thing to do. You were watching adults having fun, drinking and dancing together. You were sitting at a table, imagining your own life as an adult. How you would be singing out loud, dancing like tomorrow didn’t exist and finding a cute boy to love if you didn’t have someone already. You imagined all the cool clothes you would be wearing, clearly better than those they were wearing now.

You were so focused on the life you were dreaming for yourself that you didn’t see the cute boy walking to you. “You’re bored too?” he asked shyly.

There weren’t that many children in the room that night. Not many of your parents’ friends brought them. But some couples couldn’t accept to let their children home. Just like the Leclerc.

You knew Lorenzo because your dad had been tutoring him a few weeks ago.

You knew Arthur because his mom came to your place to introduce him to yours.

But you never met Charles. You knew you were the same age, your mothers kept saying you should hang out together one day. You knew he was doing karting which is why you never saw him before. You knew he looked adorable because you’ve seen pictures of him.

You knew that your parents quite hoped you too would fall in love. But you were also big enough to know it was a little too early to think about that.

“Yes, I’m quite done with dancing with adults that try to say something funny. They’re not funny.” You rolled your eyes and made Charles laugh. He sat next to you, taking your answer as a right to stay with you. And it wasn’t like you would ask him to walk away.

“They keep telling me I must be breaking every girls’ heart and I don’t have the courage to tell them I don’t even have a girlfriend.” He sighed and took your drink.

You were acting like little adults in your own world. Drinking like life was too difficult to deal with, when all you had to care about was homework and karting for him. You chatted about some people you knew, mostly your parents’ mutual friends and some of their children like two gossips. And when the photographer asked if he could take a picture of you, you posed like two old friends.

It wasn’t until it was almost midnight that Charles offered to play a game of dares. Taking a picture with Arthur’s comforter. Both sharing a dance with someone the other had picked. Stealing someone’s piece of cake.

It started nicely. You had no idea that this would be the start and the thing that ruled your whole friendship.

You and Charles started to hang out more, or as much as you could since you had to ask your families every time. You had a weekly snack on Wednesday, and you convinced your parents to bring you to as many of Charles’ races.

As the years went on, it became easier to be best friends. You were calling each other all the time, sending stupid texts and would take the bus to each other’s places without your parents being there.

But never did the dares stop. They evolved with you.

As little children, you were still daring each other stupid and innocent things. Telling your parents, a whole crazy story that had actually happened in a movie. Asking Charles to steal his brother’s clothes and wear them for as long as Lorenzo doesn’t notice. Stealing a glass of wine…well this one wasn’t too innocent, and you both developed a hate for wine.

From children you became teenagers. And the dares became more adult. Or you tried to make yourself look more adult. You never dared each other to do dangerous things or anything. Just…stupidest. Like kissing someone you barely admitted having a crush on, missing a karting appointment to go to the beach (to your defense, it was your birthday) or participating in the school theater play. You were still a little mad that this started as a little dare, and you ended up with the main role.

But worse than that, you became teenagers that were slowly developing feelings. And none of you hesitated to dare the other some things that would make them jealous. You did kiss Max Verstappen after a racing kart when, stupidly, Charles dared you to kiss the winner. He thought he would win. He thought he would finally be able to kiss you, even if it was through a game. Thinking it would be less weird for the two of you.

He didn’t expect you to maintain the dare and kiss his worst opponent.

“I can’t believe you kissed him.”

You were in his family car, driving home from the race. His dad was outside, ordering food so you could spend the rest of the evening together at home. Charles was at the front. You could see him with his arms crossed and his angry face through the rearview mirror. “Then you shouldn’t have dared me to kiss the winner.” It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why he was mad. It was obvious. But still, it was his dare. Not yours.

“I was supposed to win!” he yelled, turning around to face you.

“And how is that my problem Charles? I didn’t ruin your race.”

His dad came back right after your reply. So, you didn’t get to hear his own answer to this. But you had time to think about it. The problem wasn’t that you kissed Max, even if you were pretty sure that he wouldn’t be that mad if it was anybody else. It was that you didn’t kiss him.

You spend the whole trip silently thinking about that.

“Charles wait!” you screamed when you were finally at this place and leaving the car. At first, he kept walking like he didn’t hear you. It was Charles: ignoring the problem rather than facing it. Even if the problem was one of his favorite people in the world.

Since he didn’t want to listen to you, you took the fan you brought to the race and threw it at him. “Eh!” he yelled, finally turning around to face you.

“Good, now you’re listening.” You walked to him with a big smile. You noticed how close he was to just walk away again and avoid the confrontation. But you didn’t give him the time. You grabbed his wrist to make sure he won’t leave. “I dare you…”

“Oh god, can we please st…”

“To kiss me. Charles.”

He didn’t expect that. And you could tell from the way his eyes grew big and his mouth opened without a single word coming out. “That’s where the problem lies, right? You thought I would kiss you there. Then I dare you to kiss me now.”

And he did. Because you had promised to never break a dare. And because he had been dreaming about this moment for so long.

So, Charles broke the small distance between the two of you. He approached his face so close to yours that you could feel the air coming out of his mouth. Your eyes stopped blinking to not miss every single moment of this. How he licked his lips. How his eyes were going down and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he brought his hand to your face.

You closed your eyes only when his lips finally touched yours.

It was a simple kiss. One shared but two teenagers who still had a hard time dealing with their feelings. That couldn’t find the line between game and reality.

It would be lying to tell you both didn’t abuse the kissing dare. It was almost like you couldn’t do it otherwise. It would be wrong.

You did it when you were both jealous of someone else. Especially because when you were both 18, you were playing with fire and flirting with more people than you should. You wanted to see which one would break first. Which would stop the game and say it’s over.

As much as you believed in yourself, you were convinced you would be the one giving in. Charles’ kisses were phenomenal. But they weren’t healing your broken heart. The one that kept breaking each time you were seeing him with someone new.

But Charles was the one who changed the game.

You were lying in his hotel bedroom, after partying during the post-race celebration. You were drunk, you were tired, and you were cuddling like it wasn’t hot outside. But you couldn’t resist Charles’ arms, how no matter where you were it will always bring you home. To a safe place where nothing could happen.

You looked at him, lying shirtless, with his wet and messy hair all around the pillow, his hand caressing your back. He looked like a living dream. Your living dreams. The one you had since you were a child. You brought a finger to his face and started to trace his lips. “Kiss me” he mumbled. You weren’t sure you heard him right. You sat up slightly to look at him right when he turned his head to look at you.

“You didn’t ask properly.” You replied with amusement in your voice.

“I don’t want to ask properly anymore.” He said, bringing his hand from your back to your neck.

Before you knew, your face was just above his. One movement and you kissed. One movement and you admit that it was more than a game for you.

One movement that you did.

That night, you didn’t need to dare him to make love to you either. For once, the game was put apart and forgotten.

And during the first weeks of your new and official relationship, you completely forgot about dare. You were living your love naturally. Without the constant thought of asking each other to do crazy things. Then it came back one day. Out of nowhere. For a stupid dare that didn’t even mean something. Just Charles daring you to go skinny dipping in your pool since you were alone.

But hearing him dare you was like listening to a song you haven’t heard in years. Eating a meal you haven’t been eating in months. Seeing a movie you haven’t seen since childhood.

It felt wrong. It felt weird. Somehow a little relieving too. Like nothing had changed.

And so it’s started again. Childish dares like you used to do. More sensual ones now that you were a couple. Stupider ones because you wanted to play with the limits. And sadder ones when you were arguing.

When it was good, the dares were fun.

When it was bad, the dares were terrible.

“Stop blaming me for your bad performances Charles!”

The Monaco GP was over for hours now. And Charles didn’t win either of the two F2 races. Worse, he couldn’t even finish them. You could understand that he was mad, that he was angry at the team for losing his home race. Here. In front of everyone.

That didn’t mean he had to let it all go on you.

“Then what am I supposed to do, hm?” You hated when he talked like that. Like a pretentious brat who couldn't understand that not everybody agrees with him. Like you were too stupid to understand that he could be angry.

“I don’t know, control your anger? Or at least, not fuming against me.”

“You don’t have to come if you can’t accept my bad moments. Don’t inflict that on me that.”

He wasn’t even looking at you. Drinking a stupid beer on his friend’s balcony, because he didn’t even want to come home and face his parents. Watching the party happening outside like a poor boy that wasn’t invited. It was wrong. He was invited. He didn’t want to celebrate somebody else, selfishly.

“You’re being mean, Charles.” You sighed, walking to him, hoping you could finally calm him down.

But then he hit. Harder. “You know what?” he asked, not even turning to you like you were important enough. “I dare you to not come to the next race. So, you won’t suffer from my terrible nature.”

He knew you wouldn’t say no. None of you ever said no to a dare. So, you waited a few seconds, expecting him to break it. But that never happened before either. When a dare was said, you had to respect it.

So many things happened in a month. So many things that made Charles regret even daring you this. He should have kept it to himself. Let the anger disappear before saying something so stupid.

He needed you in Baku. He needed you by his side after going through the worst event of his life.

But he dared you not to come.

And you respected it.

You watched your boyfriend doing a perfect race weekend from home. Winning the race for someone that wasn’t there. You should have been there. Hugging him. Kissing him. Telling him how proud you were instead of texting.

It made you realize how bad this situation was. How childish it was.

“This can’t go on.” You told him when he came back.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked without even needing an explanation. He knew.

It was obvious to the both of you that something had changed. That none of you had the heart to play those silly games anymore. But more than that. You both weren’t so sure you knew how to live with each other without them. Your whole relationship had been ruled by dares. Making decisions through them.

“Is this really the life you want for us? Not being able to talk to each other or ask anything without having to put dares between us?”

Selfilishy, you hoped Charles would reassure you. Take the bigger role and make sure you still believe in your relationship.

The truth was he was just as confused and scared as you were. Worse, he felt guilty and knew it was wrong. But he wasn’t sure he was mature enough to stop that.

“I don’t know.” He sighed and you looked at him silently, waiting for more. “I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what we can do. I know nothing ok? Life has been a mess and I know nothing anymore!” You could see in his eyes all the anger and frustration he was keeping for himself.

“I’ve spent most of my life with you. Look what we became.” There was something more in what Charles just said. More than just a fact you already knew.

He spent most of his life playing with you. But now, at 20, was it really the life he wanted? Was it how a sane relationship was supposed to be like? And if you don’t stop it now, how could you know how far you’ll go?

“Charles, I dare you…” you started with a broken voice.

“Wait, no, we can…” he tried to stop you. Because he perfectly knew where this was going. He knew the game. He knew the outcome.

“To stop seeing each other for five years.”

There it was. The ultimate dare. The one you both needed but refused to see. The one you had no other choice to say to finally find a way of getting better. Feeling better.

Being better lovers.

Charles didn’t even try to negotiate or change your mind. Because if you didn’t say it, he would have. For once, he was happy to not be the one taking the rough decision. “Can I get a last kiss?” He asked. No dare. No obligation. Just a request from a broken heart to another one.

And you were glad you accepted it. You kept the feeling of his lips on yours for weeks after that day. It made things a little easier.

At least it did until you started to forget how he tasted. Or how it felt to be in his arms. Or the smell of his perfume. Or how good you used to feel after he made love to you like you were the most important person in the entire world.

Five years was a lot. But you both understood after a while that you clearly need it to grow up and be a better person.

Not seeing him didn’t mean you couldn’t follow his career. You even cheated one day, during the first year, for the Monaco GP. You hide in the crowd to watch him race. A part of you thought that he didn’t win because the universe was waiting for the day you would be together again.

You watched Charles dating other people too. People that weren’t you. People that could touch him and love him like you were supposed to. Like you used to.

That was what made you start a relationship on your own. At first you secretly claimed it was to learn how to be a better girlfriend for Charles. But as the years went on and you noticed he was still with the same girl, you convinced yourself you had the right to be happy with someone else too.

Five years went faster than you thought. When the new year started, your only thought was that you were getting him back. But you couldn’t be sure you would. Maybe Charles loved his new life like it was. Maybe he didn’t even remember the dare or the date you could finally reconcile.

Maybe he didn’t love you anymore.

When Charles received the invitation, he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. As much as it broke his heart to see your name linked with your fiancé, he knew.

Your wedding was happening right on the date the last dare was supposed to end. You were getting married on the day Charles could finally see you again.

Charles didn’t forget about you either. You were always on his mind. When he started a race, he wanted to make sure you would hear about him winning. When he posted pictures with one of his girlfriends, he wanted to make you jealous. When he was alone, he was dreaming about you being by his side. For good.

None of his relationships lasted because he could never love them like he loved you. It wasn’t a surprise that he accepted to come to your wedding alone. Not like he would have brought anyone else, anyway.

“You look…stunning.”

Charles found his way to your dressing room. He waited a little to make sure you were by yourself. He didn’t have the heart to face anybody. Worse, face your fiancé.

But you were alone. Sitting in front of the mirror. Knowing deep well that today would change your life. Either for better or for worse.

When you turned around and saw Charles standing there, you knew the answer.

“You came.” you got up immediately, taking a step toward before stopping. You needed a minute to appreciate it. He was here. The same young adult you left five years ago today was in front of you. Looking more beautiful than ever. Looking more adult, more confident. Exactly like you always imagined Charles to look like in the future.

“You invited me.” He replied. Doing exactly the same thing. Appreciating the view of the woman he loved. Except he had to deal with something more. The sight of you in a wedding dress. Something he always dreamt to see. But for him. Not for any guy. “I would have traveled to the other side of the world to see you today.”

Facing each other, you realized why you decided to get married today. It would be the ultimate proof that your love was big enough to fight for.

“Do you love him?” His arms were crossed against his chest, like he was waiting impatiently for an answer. He looked like a professional negotiator here.

“Charles…”

“I said, do you love him?” The way he looked at you directly in the eyes was like the confirmation you needed. You both grew up. None of you need those stupids games anymore to be honest and say what you need to say or do what you need to do. Charles didn’t have to force you to speak the truth by daring you to do it. You were both honest and adults now.

Adults are still in love with each other.

“I don’t.” You started walking towards him like he was the light at the end of the tunnel. The one you’ve been chasing all these years and that you were finally seeing. You knew you could do no wrong by walking to him. “I love you, Charles.”

One second. It took him one second to grab your face between his hands and give you the passionate kiss you both needed. Again, you could feel the determination on the way he was holding you tight, making sure you wouldn’t leave again. Or the way he was kissing you so deeply almost like he needed to discover you again. Entirely. One of his hands got lost on your perfect styled hair.

Charles was here to destroy the engagement you made. So you could make a new one with him.

“Can I make one last dare?” He was breathless against your mouth. It reminded you of the countless times you let your excitement take the upper hand and have sex in the first intimate place you could find. You didn’t even have the strength to reply, too busy thinking about how bad you wanted his lips on yours again. So you simply nodded at his request.

You saw a smile growing on his face. “I dare you to run away with me.”

Eight words. Eight words that you never even wished to hear.

“You can never say no to a dare.” He told you the night you met.

You didn’t plan on saying no today. At least, not to him.

So you took Charles' hand. Or actually offered him yours.

Making a pact. Accepting a dare for the last time.

“I won’t let you go ever again.” He told you once you were sitting in his Ferrari, ready to ride together and forget about the mess your love created.

“Dare?”

“Dare.”

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tonyspank · 10 months

Text

CHAPTER ONE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut and idk what else sooo

Words: 3.1k

A/N: Tell me if you guys like this series so far. Also I re-wrote this chapter and changed readers age in the prologue.

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"You didn't have to drive me. I could've walked or taken the bus." You tell Jenna from the passenger seat, but you gotta admit, the heated seats in her car felt amazing. She smiled and said, "It's no problem. I wanted to make sure you got here safely." You thanked her and looked out the window, feeling grateful for her kindness.

"And what kind of babysi-" You cut her off, a playful serious look on your face. "Stop." She laughed, a warm and genuine sound, and enjoyed it a bit too much. Your phone began vibrating in your pocket. You try to ignore it but it continues. You reluctantly take out your phone, it shows multiple messages from your best friend.

eli - WHERE ARE YOUUUUU

eli - I'M OUTSIDE AND MR. ALLEN KEEPS EYEING ME FROM HIS CAR

eli - I TOLD U HE LIKES BOYS BRO

eli - BRO TEXT ME BACK RN.

you - im like 5 mins away chill

eli - DON'T TELL ME TO CHILL

eli - ure always rushin me, it's time u get the same treatment.

you - i rush u bc ur honda civic needs to speed up a bit

eli - are u...

eli - are u poor shaming me?

you - you're not poor so

you - yes.

You put away your phone and it immediately starts to vibrate again, but knowing who it is you ignore it. You smile a bit as you remember your own joke, and also the lie you told. You weren't five minutes away from the school, you were ten. You knew that you'd be late, but you didn't want to tell Jenna that and make her feel bad. So, you decided to keep it to yourself in order to keep Jenna from worrying.

"You could plug in your aux if you want." Jenna smiles, sparing a quick glance at you. "Nah, that's okay." She hums, "Okay. But me personally I can't survive without listening to music. I always have a pair of headphones on me. Sometimes I don't even listen to music, I just wear the headphones."

She laughs, shaking her head. "It's like my security blanket. It's just a habit now." You grin, "Lowkey... me too, I have about three pairs of headphones in my bookbag."

She smiles. "It's nice to know I'm not alone in this. We can be headphone buddies." You let out a chuckle. "Sounds like a plan."

Before you knew it ten minutes were up and Jenna was parked outside your school. "I expected more people to be outside." She chuckles taking in her surroundings. Her eyes widen as her mind connects a few dots. "Wait, are you late?"

"Yes, I'm late," you admit. Jenna sighs and shakes her head. "Shit, do they notify your parents?"

You nod. "Yeah unless either of them excuse me in the office." Jenna takes a deep breath before turning off the car, "Here, I'll tell the office. C'mon." Jenna takes her keys out of the car, opening the door.

You hesitate before grabbing your bookbag and following Jenna inside the building. Upon walking in, the receptionist smiles warmly at you. Jenna explains the situation to her and the receptionist nods in understanding.

As you turn around to leave the office you see a familiar face in the hallway, Eli. His eyes widen as he stares at you in disbelief. You shake your head while exiting the office, Jenna right behind.

Eli walks away as Jenna stops in front of the door, sending you a slight frown. "Sorry for making you late," you wave her off with a small smile on your lips. "It's okay. It's not a big deal."

"I'll be here to pick you up." You nod and smile as Jenna turns and walks away. You take a deep breath and feel a presence behind you. You turn around to find Eli standing there, his eyes fixed on something behind you. He looks at you for a few moments before speaking, his voice low. "She is so fucking gorgeous."

You roll your eyes at your best friend walking toward your class. Eli follows behind and you begin explaining what happened the night before. As you finish you stand outside your classroom door and Eli furrows his eyebrows holding up a hand. "Wait. You're telling me that you're mad that you have a young and attractive woman living under your roof with you without any adult supervision?"

You shake your head, "She IS the adult supervision." Eli stares for a moment and then shrugs. "She's still young. You said she's what, 24?" You pull on your bookbag strap, responding immediately in the same tone as the brown-haired boy. "She's what, married?"

"And you also said what, her husband is out of the country?" He mocks back, a smirk rising from his lips. "She's going to be super lonely and she's living under a roof with an actual godd– you..."

Your eyes and eyebrows raise in surprise. He was actually about to compliment you. "I know you wanted to compliment me there." You smile, Eli shakes his head frowning his lips. "If I had finished that sentence I would've dropped down to my knees and died."

You laugh, amused by his comment. He grins, shaking his head. "Anyway. I'm just saying that your nanny, Jenna, is absolutely breathtaking. Can I come over today?"

You feel a twinge of jealousy. Weird. But you ignore it. You roll your eyes and give him a stern look. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I have to ask permission now." He responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "If I show up uninvited don't be surprised." He jokes, letting out a small laugh.

"Oh, and Olivia was looking for you this morning." He adds on, you furrow your eyebrows scratching your neck. "Rodrigo?" You ask confused. "No. Olivia Mcfuckingfartface. Yes, Rodrigo." You roll your eyes, "She's been looking for me for weeks now." You sigh, "What does she want this time?"

"You know she wants. She wants you!" You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I told her multiple times that I'm not ready for a relationship."

He laughs, "It goes in one ear and out the other," he continues, "I don't know what else you can do. She's persistent and won't back down easily." You open your eyes again, sighing. "Alright. Go to class."

Eli salutes to you, standing up completely straight. "Yes, ma'am!" Then turns around heading to his homeroom class. You laugh and open the door to your classroom. Mr. Anderson, an older teacher stops speaking, staring at you. "Nice of you to join us Y/N." You give him a tight-lipped smile before finding a seat.

Jenna had stuck to her word. She had texted you mid-day asking what time she should come to pick you up. You informed her that you had basketball practice and six would be an ideal time to come, and here she was. It was six on the dot when you recognized the car parked right outside the school.

Jenna waved at you as you walked out of the building and opened the car door, a smile on her face. She remembered your request and was here right on time. You thanked her and got in the car, relieved that she had kept her word.

"How was practice?" You sighed leaning back before replying, "Tiring." She giggles reaching over you to open the car vents on your side. You can't help but take in her smell, vanilla and a bit of citrus filling your nostrils. You turn to her, your eyes meeting as you take in her beauty. Her bottom lip was tucked into her mouth as she bit on it, and her hundreds of freckles that you wanted to reach out and trace them.

You felt as though you were in a trance, suddenly forgetting how exhausted you felt after practice. You leaned a bit closer, taking in her scent and admiring her features.

Fuck. Eli was getting into your head.

You snap back to reality, quickly leaning back away from her. She finally gets the vent open and then turns on the A/C for you. You felt like a true passenger princess. She asked what had happened during practice and you filled her in on the details of the drills and the scrimmages. She listened intently, an understanding smile on her face.

"I made chicken and rice. Your plate is in the microwave," Jenna says, holding the front door open for you. You smile and thank her, quickly taking a shower before heating up your dinner. You sit down and enjoy the meal she made, appreciating the effort she put into it. It tasted pretty damn good too.

As you're washing your dish out you hear the doorbell ring. Jenna furrows her eyebrows raising her head from her laptop as she sits at the kitchen island. "I'll go answer the door," you say, putting down your plate. Jenna nods in agreement as you make your way to the door. You open the door to find Eli standing there, a large smile on his face.

Your eyes widen. "Eli! I told you, don't come over." Eli ignores your protests and steps inside, looking around. "Bro. That joke is getting old now," he says, obviously not understanding you were being dead serious. In his defence, he normally comes over without warning and your parents let him inside with no protest. Jenna appears in the hall. Her face is a mixture of confusion and surprise.

You take a deep breath and try to keep your voice even as you explain the situation to Jenna. Eli takes a step back as he realizes he has overstepped.

Jenna shakes her head and says, "I have no issue with your friend but you should've told me first." You nod and start to apologize but Eli cuts you off, "I am so sorry, I came uninvited. It's not her fault."

Jenna stares at Eli, her face neutral. Eli looks at Jenna, his face full of regret. Jenna sighs and says, "It's alright, I understand."

"I'm Elias Cooper the third by the way," you furrow your eyebrows side-eyeing the brunette boy. "He's not a third." You tell Jenna. She laughs and gives Eli a small smile and the tension in the room dissipates.

"Behave." She teases as she points to you. You smile and she turns walking away.

Eli watches her go with a look of relief on his face. He takes a deep breath and turns to you, offering a sheepish smile. "She has such an intense stare bro."

You sigh out walking into the kitchen. Eli follows behind you closely. He places his arms on your shoulder as he leans into your ear whispering, "She made me mad nervous man."

You turn towards Eli, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "I could tell. She had your ass gagged badly." You whisper back, Eli's face scrunched up in a grimace and he laughed. "Yea, she did."

"Are you hungry?" Jenna asks Eli, "No ma'am. I'm good." Jenna nodded in understanding and focused back on her computer. Eli watched as Jenna focused on her computer, her eyes flickering rapidly as she typed away. He felt a pang of admiration, and he smiled to himself.

You notice this and push him. And maybe with a little bit too much force because he stumbled back, catching himself just before he fell. He quickly glanced back up at Jenna, embarrassed, and saw that she hadn't noticed. "Dickhead." He mouths, not really meaning it.

"We're going to go watch a movie, Jen." Jenna looks at you with a smile, "Okay. Have fun." You smile back at her, pulling Eli into a headlock and dragging him into the living room. "Jen, huh?" He mutters laughing as he tries to escape your headlock.

You let him go and he shakes his head laughing. "Alright, alright," he says. You both laugh and sit down on the couch, "Hey, did you ever talk to Olivia?"

"No, not yet," you reply. "I couldn't find her." He smiles, "Or you didn't try to find her." You laugh, "Potato, Poe-ta-toe!" He laughs as well and begins discussing about a movie to watch. Eli beat you in rock paper scissors, so he got to choose the movie. And you wanted to cry. He chose an old Western movie that wasn't even in color.

After about thirty minutes in a warm blanket covered you and you began to drift off to sleep.

You woke up, walking into the kitchen. Eli was gone, which Jenna had informed you once you were in the kitchen. You hum in response, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter. Jenna feels your eyes on her and she looks up from her MacBook, smiling at you. "What are you staring at?"

You shrug, a smile on your face. "You. You're so pretty." Jenna blushes, averting her gaze. "You don't have to say that," she murmured, but her lips curled into a smile. She returned her attention to her laptop, but with a contented sigh.

It's silent for a moment until you speak up, "It's the truth. I was thinking about it in the car."

Jenna looked up again, her cheeks still slightly pink. She looked him in the eye, her gaze intense. "Thinking about what exactly?" You scratched your chin, not knowing where this extra confidence came from but you were glad you had it.

"Your lips. And how I wanted to be the one biting down on it," Jenna smiled, her blush getting brighter. She suddenly stood up and moved closer to you and said, "So what are you waiting for?" You lean forward and kiss her, your lips meeting in a passionate embrace.

Jenna's hand holds your face as you deepen the kiss. You can feel her heart beating just as fast as yours. Jenna pulls away, her face still close to yours, and whispers, "I've been wanting to do that for so long." You smile and kiss her again, this time softer and slower. You both stay in that embrace, not wanting to let go. Her hands leave your face, resting on your clothed abs.

You pull away for a slight breather, immediately kissing her again. The force causes Jenna to groan, and you take the chance to slip your tongue into her mouth. Jenna's hand slips under your shirt examining you as you deepen the kiss.

You can feel her body trembling with pleasure as you explore her mouth with your tongue. You eventually break the kiss, both of you out of breath.

Jenna looks up at you, her eyes filled with desire. She then begins to crouch down, her hands moving to the waistband of your sweatpants. She pulls your sweatpants down, her eyes never leaving yours.

She slowly moves her lips toward your inner thigh, and you can feel the heat of her breath as she starts to gently kiss your skin. You let out a soft moan, and she looks up at you with a mischievous smile.

Fully on her knees, she pulls your underwear down as well, you press a hand against the counter, stabling yourself. Jenna finds her mouth watering at the sight in front of her, your perfect hard cock fully hard swollen and pink. She licks her lips as she moves closer, her hands cupping you before she takes your length into her mouth.

She swirls her tongue around you, exploring every inch. She looks up at you as she starts to suck and you can't help but moan in pleasure. "Shit..."

Her mouth is hot and wet, and her tongue feels amazing as it slithers across your skin. As she takes you deeper, her lips wrap tightly around your shaft and her tongue strokes the underside with each lick. She increases her suction and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge as her hand moves up and down your shaft.

Her gaze makes the experience 100x better, those dark brown eyes look anything but innocent. "You're so hot, Jen."

She only breaks it when her eyes roll back in pleasure when she feels you start to quiver in her mouth. Her tongue rolls around your shaft as if it were a delicious lollipop. To her, you were.

Your left-hand leaves the grip on the countertop, moving to grip Jenna's tied-up hair. You pull her away slightly and hear her hum at you, her eyes still closed. With your other hand, you caress her face, tracing her delicate features. You can feel her smile around you, and your heart skips a beat.

She opens her eyes and your back in her mouth as if it pained her for you not to be. You were addicted and so was she, her head bopping fast as loud breathing and sloppy noises are heard throughout the kitchen.

She pulls off with a pop and starts to lick your head, her tongue swirling around and around. She looks up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye as she takes you back into her mouth and starts to suck again. You can feel yourself about to reach the brink.

"I'm about to cum, Jenna." Jenna smiles and quickens her pace, her tongue and lips working together to bring you closer and closer. You can feel the pleasure coursing through your body, and you scream out as you finally reach your peak.

Jenna swallows your seed and looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, before running her tongue along her lips. You lean back, exhausted and satisfied, and Jenna smiles up at you, opening her mouth to speak. "That was amazing wasn't it —"

"—Y/N." Your eyes snap open, and you can barely see Jenna in the dark room. You sit up quickly, realizing you were in the middle of a dream. Jenna has a hand on your shoulder, her thumb caressing your shoulder. "You okay?" You nod and take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. And trying to get yourself to relax as you feel the hard-on pressing against your shorts. Thank God for the blanket and the night.

You feel Jenna's hand leave. "Yeah, I'm okay," you say, and she smiles in the darkness. "It's late. Elias already left. I didn't want you sleeping on the couch." You place your hands on your lap. Think of something bad! You say to yourself, you really didn't wanna make Jenna uncomfortable.

"Thank you, I uh... I'll be upstairs soon." Jenna nods, "Okay. Goodnight." Jenna turns and makes her way up the stairs. You sit in the darkness, thinking about the events of the night. You eventually make your way up to bed, your thoughts still lingering on the wet dream you had of Jenna.

You lay in bed, unable to sleep as images of Jenna flood your mind. You look at the lotion on your nightstand. "Fuck me, man." You mutter to yourself.

taglist - @raven-ss

#reader insert #wattpad #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna x g!p reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna smut #get me

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 1 year

Text

changeling steve whose fae abilities activate early bc of the upside down, which surprises him bc he had no idea he wasn't human

usually changelings are a little weird, but don't become like Full Fae until they come of age, somewhere around 20, but sometimes if their life is in danger or they're otherwise under a great deal of stress, they can Blossom early

steve's never been a little weird. in fact, he's always been good at being Very Normal, always exactly what everyone expects him to be, exactly what everyone wants him to be. when he's young, his parents want a quiet boy they can show off at dinner parties, so steve dutifully bends his personality into shape, polite and good enough at the piano to play something for the grownups and let them coo over him (never too good or too polite, because his parents want him to be a little boy who'll grow into a Man's Man, and that means not liking music too much and climbing trees without getting dirty and pulling on girls pigtails)

when he gets to high school, his parents want him to join sports teams, so he bends his personality again and doesn't think about how easy it is for him to gain the muscle mass and dexterity required, because he must just have some kind of natural talent for it. the team has its own expectations of him: they want a King, someone who's good with girls and likes to kick down at the unpopular masses, so he does that too, picks up on everyone's insecurities the easiest out of all his followers, always seems to know exactly how to twist his words to make his victims feel the worst

then he meets nancy, and it's the first time he's not sure exactly what someone wants from him. sometimes he wonders if she even knows what she wants him to be. he still does his best though, because that's what he does, bending and twisting into the perfect boyfriend, sweet, attentive, a little roguish just to keep the edge on. and for a while it works, even after barb and the demogorgon and the nailbat in his trunk that doesn't fit any of the people he's supposed to be and sometimes makes him itch so much he feels like his skins going to crawl off

but then it's the next halloween, and nancy calls him bullshit and he knows she's right. doesn't know how to not be bullshit though, no ones ever wanted that from him. he could try though, for her, he thinks, if that's what she wants, so he shows up at her house a few days later with a bouquet, only to find dustin henderson demanding he take out his bat again

and later, in the junkyard, while the kids are in the bus yelling and steve's been knocked on his back by a demodog, bat out of reach as he frantically pushes at the heavy weight of the monster on top of him, he curses how weak and useless his stupid human hands are. if he was more like the demodogs, with their gnarled claws and copious amounts of teeth, he'd have no problem winning this fight. and as he thinks it, as he deliriously and desperately wishes he had some kind of natural defense against creatures like this, something changes inside him. it feels like someone's injected pop rocks into his bloodstream, and they seem to collect in his hands, where they're still uselessly scratching at the demodogs tough hide

except, they're not uselessly scratching anymore. now they're carving into the thing like butter, because his nails have gone from blunt and fragile to something long and hard like steel, and the tendons in his hands have shifted and strengthened to be much more effective at cutting through meat. he has claws now. actual, literal claws, a lot like the ones the demodogs have, although his are sort of glowing and shimmering from within like he's full of fireflies. it would explain the buzzing in his veins. but he can't think about that now, has to get this thing off of him, has to protect the kids, has to live another day

and at the same time, across town in a little trailer, the only two witches in hawkins have just gotten hit with a blast of released magical energy that's so strong it sends them physically reeling. eddie actually falls on his ass. wayne helps him up while the kid asks what the hell that was, and honestly wayne isn't absolutely sure himself. doesn't feel human, even if the mortal panic it's laced with feels very human indeed, and it takes him a while to place that fizzy feeling as fae magic. a Blossoming.

so he explains to eddie about changelings, cuffs him good-naturedly around the head when the kid immediately relates it to his nerd game (he does this every time wayne teaches him something new about magic), and explains a little more about fae in general. he's told eddie about them before, but fae tend to keep to themselves, so there's been no real need to explain more than basic etiquette and safety measures eddie should take if he ever came across a fairy in the wild

now though, he explains, he thinks eddie should reach out. that Blossom was early, panicked, which means there's some kid out there about eddie's age who's going through magical puberty into an entirely new species directly after some kind of terrible ptsd-inducing event. so he tells eddie to keep an eye out for them at school, because magical folk gotta stick together, and eddie agrees, because they do, and frankly yeah that sounds like a terrible thing to go through alone and confused

so imagine his dismay when king steve shows up to school the week after, clearly beat to shit and looking confused as hell when the things he reaches for end up in his hand without him actually grabbing them

reaching out might be a little harder than eddie expected. but, cursing himself a little for being too good a person to leave even king steve in the dark like that, he does it anyway.

#and yeah obviously they fall in love #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [9.7K] late nights, poolside, getting high and wondering why the boy next door is always sporting a black eye. smut.

Summer at two am smelled like chlorine and smoke, like boys aftershave and the coconut sunscreen you hadn’t reapplied since that afternoon. It was pool lights underwater, the warm glow of a patio pit fire, the buzz of faraway cicadas. It felt rosy, hazy, like the sky wasn’t dark and the sun still lingered, even amongst the stars.

Summer at two am brought out the boy next door, cuts and bruises and all, a freshly rolled joint in his hand as he leaned over the garden fence and asked, “got a light?”

That’s how it started, this thing, this friendship, with Steve Harrington. You just didn’t expect it to lead to what it did.

The first night, June had barely started and Steve was just another boy you’d known from school, a pretty boy with a bruised up face and he appeared at your shared fence, hazy behind the steam that came off of the heated pool. He was lit up in shades of blue, from the water, the reflections, the marks around his eyes and cheek, hanging over the wooden slats, looking like he didn’t care anymore.

About anything. Anything at all.

He watched the way you brought your own roll up to your lips, the end burning amber, almost smoked down to the roach. You were sitting at your pool, bare legs in the water and the too big shirt you wore only held together by a few buttons. The big, expensive house behind you lying as empty as the Harrington’s and when Steve asked if he could borrow the lighter that sat on the patio tiles beside you, you’d nodded.

But you hadn’t expected him to jump the fence so effortlessly, trainers crunching gravel under their soles and he walked towards you like it was no big deal, like you were more than just two people who had nodded at each other in the hallway, who got off at the same bus stop every day before Steve got a car and drove by you instead.

Sometimes you’d see him in his own yard, lying out bare chested in the afternoon heat, a can of soda and a pair of headphones for company. And when his parents were home from whatever business trip they’d been on, you only saw the boy through his bedroom window, adjacent to yours, an accidental TV screen to what King Steve got up to when he was alone.

You knew by default that that meant he could see into your room too, with the buttercup yellow walls and pinned polaroids. You knew he’d caught a glance or two of you in a state of undress, underwear on show, sleep shirt too short and riding up past your thighs.

You’d burned before you remembered to close the curtains, telling yourself that you did care.

But he was the boy that was once popular, pretty face, kind eyes, never home and running around with a new crowd that didn’t seem to be accepting new memberships. You heard his car leave his driveway and not come back for a full day, sometimes not until the next. And from through the gap in your curtains, you always expected the boy to stumble into his house with a girl in tow, maybe a boy, maybe both. Attached at the lips like in the movies, hands groping, eyes closed, in the throes of something heated. But if Steve wasn’t alone, he was only ever with friends.

And then, at nights, by the pool with you.

You didn’t ask him where the bruises came from, you didn’t pry, and Steve liked that. It’s why he sat down next to you after he’d lit his own joint, cotton shorts pulled across his thighs as he let his legs drop into the warm water beside your own.

You watched him take a long drag, head tipped back so he could look at the stars as he held the smoke in his lungs and when he blew it all out, it sounded like the world’s heaviest sigh. Steve looked tired, he looked sore and the lavender colour bruises along his cheekbone looked mottled and dark.

His fingers brushed yours when he handed back the zippo, heavy and silver with a curling sticker on the front, a pastel coloured peach that you’d drawn eyes and a smile on.

“Thanks,” he’d said, taking a few more puffs before offering the joint to you, and you’d accept, ‘cause it was only polite, right?

You were already past the point of feeling lighter, floaty, airy. And Steve was quick to join you there, on a pool water coloured cloud above your yard, ankles dipped in the warmth, head resting in the sky.

Well, that’s what it felt like, lying on your backs side by side, the dampness of the grass pressed to your backs and it was strange, the way you could speak to Steve a little easier when you were both staring at the sky.

You whispered into the night with him, stayed up until the sun broke the blackness and started colouring the clouds tangerine and pink, a cotton candy sky appearing on the horizon and you missed the stars, the way Steve’s words seemed to get stolen by the moon, ‘cause there was nothing out there but you two.

But the sun came up and the high wore off, the joint smoked to a stub. The air only grew warmer as a new day began and you heard the tell tale sound of six am sprinklers, Mr and Mrs Sibbald’s garden hose coming to life.

You’d watched as Steve sat up and stretched, blinking in the red morning light and he’d looked over at you as if he wasn’t all that sure if you were real, if you were a dream, if you were supposed to have disappeared with the stars. You weren’t sure what you’d spent four hours talking about, if you were totally honest, the joint had been passed and finished an hour in, the rest of the night taken up by shared secrets that neither of you could remember, small laughs and bright smiles, the kind that made Steve’s eyes turn into honey.

He hopped back over the fence like it was nothing, as if he’d never even been there to begin with. The only evidence he left was wet footprints across the patio, leading from you to the edge of your yard and you thought that that was it, a one off, one night, a Thing never to be spoken about again.

But the week after, when Friday night was leaking into Saturday morning, a small pebble narrowly missed your knee and plopped into the pool instead. You tried to hide the smoking joint behind your back on instinct, heart rattling your ribcage at the thought of your parents returning home early.

You looked up from where you sat, legs back in the water, a book by your thigh and an ex-boyfriend's hoodie covering your bikini from the summer night breeze. It wasn’t your dad though, or your mom. No disappointed gazes, furrowed brows or downturned lips. No, none of that.

Steve stood by the fence instead, forearms leaning against the ledge, another rock held between finger and thumb. He dropped it when your gaze found his, no need for any other projectiles now he had your attention. There was an unlit joint tucked behind his ear and the bruises from last week were fading. But he had glasses on this time, thin, gold rimmed ones that made him look prettier than ever, a disarmingly kind of charming. His hair was messy, his t-shirt soft looking and threadbare and he didn’t saything to you this time, just raised his brows and smiled.

You tried to hide your own, the way it wanted to stretch across your lips too big and too bright, too excited. ‘Cause the night had settled in and the town was too quiet, like you and Steve Harrington were the only ones left awake. You nodded, kicked a leg through the water and you didn’t need to look to know that Steve saw.

The boy hopped the fence.

He was warm and solid as he sat down beside you, almost too close too soon but you didn’t find that minded all that much. He smelled nice, like aftershave and boy and a little line mint and the forest, sharp and clean. He was showing off too much skin again, old gym shorts hiked up his thighs as he sat with his legs in the water, the collar of his shirt thin and stretched out, like he wore it for comfort not style.

You didn’t let Steve bother lighting his own smoke, handing him your own joint instead of your zippo and you noted the flicker of surprise on his face. But he didn’t say protest, just took it carefully from your fingers and slipped it between his lips, murmuring a soft ‘thanks’ as he did.

It took one puff, one pass, two puffs, three, before anyone spoke again and you were surprised to find it was Steve who did it first. You were still a couple of drags away from finding the courage, that warm, slow feeling that would let you look the boy in the eye without burning up.

“Where’re your folks?” He asked quietly.

You peered up at him, wondering if he’d really noticed these things the way you noticed him. “Uh, country club? I think? Or a dinner at a friend's place, I can’t remember.”

“They’re not around a whole lot, huh?” Steve posed it like a question but you knew it wasn’t. ‘Cause he kept talking, didn’t wait for an answer that he already knew. “Neither are mine.”

You nodded, not trying to pretend that you didn’t know that either. ‘Cause there was only ever Steve’s car in the driveway and when Mr and Mrs Harrington did return, their son was always out, making a point of leaving early and coming home too late.

“Gets lonely right?” You whispered to the pool, that floaty, hazy feeling you wanted finally settling over your head. The pool glittered in response. “In those big houses, when it’s just you.”

Steve hummed, agreeing and you were brave enough then, high enough then, to look over at him. He was shades of blue, all indigo shadows and aquamarine highlights, reflections from the pool lights on his skin. And that’s all it took, that shared gaze, the shared joint, the feeling of knowing that someone felt the same way you did.

After that, you and the boy created some sort of routine. That wasn’t to say you saw every night, or every Saturday. In fact, some weeks you didn’t see him at all. Those days were lonely, stretched out on a neon pink pool float, your shirt wet as you lazed around the edges of the pool until the sun came up and your parents realised you weren’t in your bed.

You’d see Steve during the gaps in the day, maybe a glimpse of him through the gap in his curtains, shirtless and half asleep, lying on his bed with a new bruise on his side. Sometimes out the window when a van pulled up on the street, Eddie Munson waiting in the front for Steve to jump in and you’d stare as they drove off, wondering why they looked so worried.

It was the nights after these stretches of loneliness that were the best. When you left the backyard lights on for Steve to see, sitting out by the pool half dressed, the summer air suffocating, smoke and steam from your lips and the water filling the night sky.

A familiar dance.

Two o’clock, stars out, the buzz of the pool filter, the heat from the water and the leftover July sun. The smell of chlorine and weed, the sunscreen you’d rubbed into your skin earlier that day and this… this thing… with Steve?

It had been happening so often that now he didn’t ask, didn’t seek out permission to join you. You just waited for the slide of his back door, the soft sigh he gave out when he spotted you and god, it made your heart rattle.

You weren’t sure he even knew that he made that little noise. But sometimes, after the sun came up, and you went to bed alone, you would dream about it.

He’d jump the fence, as always, effortless and easy. A joint held out in offering, sometimes refused ‘cause you’d already lit one in anticipation of his company. He sat too close, he always did. Bare skin on bare skin, arms brushing, shoulders bumping, knees pressed up against the others as you both sunk your feet into the water.

You knew the colour of his eyes then, all the shades of brown and gold and caramel. You knew the way he laughed, how his lashes met in the corners when he really, really smiled at you. You knew that he was touchy, almost flirty, all soft words despite the way he was all sharp lines.

“M’gonna owe you a whole greenhouse by the time summer's up,” Steve commented mildly, but he took your offered joint all the same.

The water trickled, lapped around the edges of both of your legs and you grinned at the boy, shrugging ‘cause you really didn’t mind sharing. Not with Steve.

“You took forever to come out,” you complained without heat. “I got bored.”

Steve snorted, nudging his shoulder to yours. “No, you’re just impatient.”

You didn’t reply to that, didn’t really need to because the boy was right and it had only been one month but he could read you like a book already. And what an odd thing to realise, considering you didn’t let many people into your pages.

Instead, you let your gaze settle on his cheek, the edges of an old bruise still blooming blue, mottled green and yellow as it started to heal. It covered the slant of his cheek bone, narrowly missing his eye. More often than not, Steve Harrington was a watercolour of injuries, and after watching him lead the basketball team in high school, you had a feeling it wasn’t due to clumsiness.

“Does that still hurt?”

You never asked why, you never asked how or who or what. That was one of Steve’s favourite things about you. You knew his favourite colour, his favourite movie. You asked him about his job and his day and his friends and how he was feeling.

But on the nights he spent with you in your backyard, when he was cut and bruised and with an eye swollen shut, you never pried.

This was as close as you’d ever got to acknowledging it.

So Steve took a long drag as he thought what to say, because he knew he owed you that much. And you asked it so sweetly, in a small, soft voice that Steve didn’t hear from you all that much ‘cause you were brave and unapologetic and sometimes a little mean to him but he loved the way you teased.

He blew the smoke to the sky, counted the stars that he could see amongst the glow of the streetlights and then turned back to you. He passed the joint, smiled a little tiredly but then he shook his head.

“Nah,” he told you softly, his voice a little rough with emotion and god, he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he felt when he looked at you. That wasn’t the plan. “Nah, s’okay now.”

“Yeah?” You blinked at him, joint forgotten about as you gazed at him, wide eyed.

Christ, you were too sweet.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he smiled, blinding and pretty, and Steve tucked his chin to his chest to hide it.

And then: “It’s not… it’s not your dad, right?”

You were almost positive it wasn’t. Steve bloomed fresh bruises when his dad was out of town, out of state. But sometimes you heard the yelling when the older man was home and there was often the sound of a fist hitting a wall, a table, maybe something else.

Steve’s smile faltered, just for a second, and you watched him look back to you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You thought he’d maybe be offended, shocked at the idea of you thinking such a thing. But he looked at you and he knew what you knew, what you’d heard, what you understood.

His foot touched yours underwater, feeling much warmer than it should’ve been, ‘cause the brush of his skin over yours felt so, so intimate.

Steve shook his head, held your stare so you’d see the truth there.

“It’s not, no,” he told you. “Promise.”

Maybe you were too high, maybe you were feeling brave in the dark, with nothing but the lights on the water. You reached up, slow and careful, giving the boy time to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

You brushed the tips of your fingers over the faded bruise, over the slant of Steve’s cheekbone and your breath hitched at the way he leaned into your touch. You traced the colours there, the freckle that was hidden amongst the blue and lavender.

Steve blinked, pretty eyes all heavy and sleepy, pupils blown wide from the weed, maybe from you.

The air stilled, maybe time stopped, but the whole town was quiet and it was like some kind of spell, a slow motion love potion, a pretty kind of magic shared between you and the boy next door. Your touch made his lashes flutter, the brown of his eyes turn softer, impossibly so. Did you lean in first? Did Steve? Were you imagining this?

And then--

The kitchen light snapped on, flooding the backyard in more light than you were used to, illuminating the pair of you by the poolside. You gasped, a sharp, shocked noise and you were turning, staring wide eyed as your parents appeared through the window, lit up by the refrigerator door.

Steve swore, eyes set on the early intrusion and when you turned back to him, your noses brushed and Jesus Christ, you were so close to him. The joint was still burning, the air still sticky sweet and Steve was sitting beside you as if he was still waiting for a kiss.

The patio door slid open, a slow roll, a warning noise and if it weren’t for the hydrangea’s, your late night secret would’ve been spotted almost immediately. You heard your father, voice only coloured with a little concern, call out your name into the dark.

“Honey? Are you out here?”

You stubbed the joint out on the patio tiles, frantic and Steve’s getaway route was blocked, his side of the fence closer to where your father now stood. So you cursed under your breath and stared at the boy, grimacing in what felt like an apologetic smile.

“Deep breath,” you managed to warn him and then, you were pushing yourself off of the ledge of the pool, tumbling into the warm water and taking Steve with you.

The water rushed and bubbled around you both, Steve’s fingers wrapped around your wrists in surprise, his hair floating up in a messy halo around his face. The chlorine fizzed around you both, clothes sticking to skin, wrapped around legs and waists and you pushed yourself up to break the surface, watching as your dad stopped a couple of feet away, arms held out in question.

“What?” the man asked you, brows raised. “What’re you doing? It’s the middle of the night.”

You sucked in a breath, blinking away the water that clung to your lashes and you pushed your arms to the edge of the pool, leaning on the still sunwarmed tiles. Your joint was still smoking, burning red ash only a few inches to your right.

“Hey, dad,” you grinned, pushed your back from your forehead and tried to act casual. “What’s up?”

Under the water, Steve was clinging to your waist, his hands pushed to your wet shirt, slipping over the bare skin there, trying his best to hold himself under the surface. His forehead brushed against the swell of your stomach, hair tickling your hip bone, nose bumping against your navel as he tried to keep himself hidden.

You could feel him everywhere.

“Why on earth are you in the pool?” Your dad questioned, and despite it being a reasonable thing to ask, you scrunched your nose, acting offended, fingers curling around the ledge so you could slip further into the water.

Steve pressed closer, bubbles sneaking out from his lips, his hands wide and warm on your hips as he moved himself into the space between your body and the pool wall, holding himself there. His face was level with your stomach, nose nudging at the space under your breasts, t-shirt riding up with the flow of the water. You knew he could see your underwear, bright green, a wicked emerald colour and you squeaked when he plucked a lace edge, taunting, teasing.

“What? Can’t I indulge in a late night swim?” You frowned, acting hurt. “S’not like you and mom are here to keep me company.”

The man sighed and you could see how he backed off, edging back to the patio doors, back to safety where he didn’t need to deal with his twenty something daughter and her attitude problem.

“As long as that’s all you’re indulging in.”

It must have only been a minute, tops, but as soon as the patio door rolled shut and the pool faded back to a deep blue, Steve burst to the surface, gasping. You grinned and rolled your eyes, not that he could see, but it was all full of affection and you noted the way he still hadn’t let go of you, one hand still on your waist as he swept his wet hair out of his eyes. He looked awfully pretty, glittering with water under the moon and the pool lights, droplets clinging to his lashes, rolling over the curve of his lip, t-shirt stuck to him.

“Are you under the impression I have gills, or somethin’?” Steve coughed out, grinning at you despite his words. “They’re back early, no?”

“Very early,” you agreed, peering over the pool edge as you watched your parents through the glass doors, making their way up the stairs.

“Maybe your daddy could sense that his little girl was gettin’ up to no good,” Steve whispered, and god, he was still so close, lips almost at the shell of your ear as you both kicked your legs to stay afloat.

You shivered despite the heat from the water, lazy tendrils of vapour rolling off of your skin, rolling into the night air. You turned to face the boy, biting away a smile, bottom lip tucked between teeth and you tilted your head at him.

“Are you talking about the weed? Or you?”

Your palm grazed Steve’s stomach, felt bare skin and a trail of hair from where his shirt and rucked up, wet and stuck across his ribs. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, tightening under your brief touch but neither of you pulled back. Treading water made it easier to hold each other, hands grabbing and brushing up against the other, the water pushing and pulling you away, over and over until it settled around you and the night fell quiet again.

Maybe it was supposed to be a hint from inside the house, your mother or your fathers silent suggestion that you needed to get out of the damn pool and into your own bed, or maybe it was just very, very good timing. The pool lights went out, the water and the garden going dark, all navy and indigo, the shadows of the trees inky, the house bathed in complete darkness.

It was only the moon that was left to reflect off of the surface of the pool, a warm glow that made the boy look like he was carved from marble. All strong lines, his jaw, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the point of his brows.

Steve swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing and he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips that could’ve been a smirk if he didn’t look so fucking pretty. But that confidence was there, that self assured air that had been growing and building since the first shared smoke, eyes that wandered and lingered, hands that were kept to yourselves.

It reminded you of the boy you watched in high school, the same flirt and boyish charm, just without the arrogance. Steve had grown into himself, had learned how to hold your gaze and really smile, like it was a present just for you. He knew that you liked it when he pressed his side into yours, shoulder to shoulder, noticed how you always held your breath at the first contact, how you liked to play pretend with him and act like it didn’t affect you.

So he’d grin and bite back when you snarked at him, rolled your eyes all fond and acted like nothing he did affected you. And Steve would play the same game until the joint was all but gone and the air smelled sweeter and you both forgot that your hands had been resting on the other’s knee for too, too long.

Like now, perhaps.

‘Cause Steve’s knee was nudging between your bare legs, his hands on your hips, wide and warm, fingers splayed over your waist, thumbs pushed to your tummy and he was practically holding you afloat in the water, chest to chest.

“Me, maybe,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to look at your lips, sighing a little at the way your tongue swept over your bottom one. “But I have a feeling you get up to all sorts of trouble on your own.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, bravery pushing through your nerves at all the flirtatious words, the way Steve was looking at you, all parted lips and through the dark line of his lashes. Your hands slipped over his shoulders, broad and strong, fingers curling over his wet shirt, holding on as he moved you easily around the water, pushing your back against the pool wall and caging you against him.

“Says the boy who sneaks over at night to get high with me,” you whispered back and god, the pool was heated, but you were overly warm, skin burning where Steve touched, cheeks flushing at the sight of him smiling for you. “If anything, you’re the bad influence here, Harrington.”

It was sinful, the way Steve grinned, boyish and all charm, big, brown eyes glittering in the low light. He leaned in, careful, still so hesitant despite the way you were both clinging to each other. His nose bumped against your own, head tilted so the line of it ran along yours. Your eyes fluttered, lashes casting shadow on your cheeks when they closed.

Steve’s breath stuttered and it caught in his chest, an audible gasp and sigh that made you push your chest into his more, hands wrapping around his neck as you waited waited waited--

“Can I--?” Steve whispered and his top lip was already brushing against your own.

“Is this just ‘cause we’re high?” You asked softly, the question breathed against the boy’s mouth. You briefly wondered what you’d do if he said ‘yes’, if you’d still lean in just so you could say you’d tasted him, just so you’d be able to think of the feel of him when you lay in bed at night, shirt pushed up around your ribs and your hand shoved into the front of your soaked underwear. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do I really wanna kiss you?” Steve asked, and he had his eyes closed too, the both of you up to your shoulders in the pool, hands wrapped around wet bodies and chlorine soaked clothes, foreheads touching as you both waited.

Your hand came to cup his face, too small to really catch most of it but your fingers splayed along the sharp edge of his jaw and your thumb found the corner of his mouth, pulling at the edge of his bottom lip in anticipation and Steve let out a low groan.

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely, “yeah I wanna kiss you. M’high, we both are. But I wanna kiss you when I’m sober too.”

“Yeah?” You asked, breathless, legs tightening around Steves, where he was using one knee to keep you up and level with him.

He nodded, water splashing quietly as he moved into you more, a hand dropping from your waist to catch your thigh, hand curling around the dough there to hitch it to his hip. He squeezed, an overly soft and affectionate gesture and it made your heartbeat clap against your ribs.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, nose pushing more to your cheek, lips touching yours as he spoke. “Fuck, yeah, sweetheart, I really do.”

So you kissed him, a soft, sweet push of your mouth to Steve’s catching the soft moan he gave you, giving him one back in return. He could’ve pulled you underwater for all you cared, you would’ve just kept kissing him, chlorine and the taste of Steve and smoke all you needed.

It was all slow motion, that same kind of love potion, a magic pull that made your toes curl, made you keen a little needily and open your mouth for the boy. He licked into you, soft and sure, like he knew how to kiss you, like he’d been doing it all along. Steve tilted his head just right, matched the angle you gave him and pushed a hand up your shirt, dragged his palm along your ribs and kept it PG, holding you there as he tried to display every piece of gentlemanly restraint he had and not rock himself into you.

It didn’t help that you were tugging at his hair a little, your hands wandering too, sinking your fingers into the damp curls at the nape of his neck and pulling when his tongue stroked over your own, a surefire way to tell him you liked everything he was doing.

You weren’t sure how far it would’ve gone, how much you would’ve let happen, but somewhere over the fence, a car alarm went off and the Wilkinson’s family dog started barking.

And that was it. A first kiss, stolen behind your parents back, wet and pushed up against the wall of the pool, all chlorine coated with a boy that tasted like summer and smoke.

That was it, for now.

—————

It wasn’t even a week later when you saw Steve again and he was already waiting by the pool when you came out. He turned at the sound of you opening the patio doors, pyjama shorts high on your thighs, a tiny tank top that didn’t do much against the still too warm night air.

He was bruised again, a stain around his cheekbone that was threatening to turn black and blue soon. You knew you weren’t supposed to ask questions, he’d told you before that it wasn’t what you thought, that he couldn’t really explain it.

But it made your heart hurt for him and before you could open your mouth to ask if he was okay, Steve kissed the words away, lips slanting over yours in greeting. It was a little urgent, a little desperate for just a kiss hello and when you both pulled back, you could see the stress knotted between his brows, the dark pull at the corners of his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping.

And neither of you had, no really. That’s why you were both outside at one in the morning.

“I don’t have any shit left,” he told you quietly. “I don’t wanna keep smoking your stash either. I just— I just wanted to see you.”

Steve said it like it wasn’t allowed, as if that wasn’t a part of the agreement, like it was breaking the rules of this… thing you both had going.

You nodded, let your fingers trail down his forearm until your hand found his. He let you tangle your fingers with his own, too close together under the patio light. You could see how tired he looked, how tension clawed at his body and you let out a sigh.

“I smoked the last of mine last night,” you murmured, “or else you know I would’ve shared.”

You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand, kept your eyes off of the bruise on his cheek and tried to smile. It was hard to, the boy didn’t look like himself, like this bruise was different, like this had been one hit too many and he finally felt a little defeated.

With the chaos of the town, the murders, the missing people, you’d watched Steve and his friends disappear each day, only coming home when sleep was needed.

You didn’t ask questions, didn’t want to, didn’t feel like you could. But the boy looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and it had finally splintered the bones in his back.

“You look like you need something to help you chill out, Harrington,” you whispered to him, “you’re all tense.”

You ran your other hand up his chest, a brave move considering you hadn’t seen or spoken to him since you both kissed in the pool, under your sleeping parents bedroom window. But he’d greeted you with a kiss, one that tasted a lot like need and want. Your hand cup the nape of his neck, squeezing gently before your fingers slid into his hair.

You tugged a little at the soft strands, lips parting when his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned onto you, pliable and soft, a small moan leaving his lips at your touch.

“Are you okay?”

Steve hummed, eyes barely opening to look at you fondly. The summer air was heavy, the tension between the two of you palpable. But he smiled, an easy grin taking over his pretty face and he nodded.

“Yeah, m’okay sweetheart.” He sighed, leaned into you more, head falling forward so your nails could scratch at his neck. “Just tired.”

“You should go to bed,” you told him, all mock admonishment ‘cause you knew as well as Steve did that sleep didn’t always come easily.

“You should come with me,” he quipped and his words fell from his mouth without much thought and god, he sounded serious about it, no teasing to be found.

You watched him watch you, hand still curled into his hair, one of his holding your side to keep you close and you watched him swallow, the air thicker than ever. Jesus, were you even breathing? Was Steve?

But you licked at your lip, a nervous habit, noticed how Steve followed the movement with heavy, dark eyes and you nodded, breath catching in your throat before blowing it out shakily.

“Yeah,” you told him, and then as if it were the most casual thing in the world: “alright.”

Steve blinked, “yeah?”

You smiled, ducked your head to try and hide it, letting your hands fall away from him in the hopes that he’d take the initiative and lead you back to his.

“Yeah,” you told him, “we’ve gotta make you relax one way or another, right?”

Steve gulped audibly, lips parting and moving over words he couldn’t quite find yet, staring at you silently. But his eyes were hooded and a darker colour than normal, all burnt sugar and heat.

He nodded, fumbling for the response. His hand found yours and he started to back up towards his house, eyes trained on yours, fingers curling around your own.

“Right,” he agreed, “of course, yeah.” He was breathing a little faster.

“And I can help,” you nodded, following him to his side of the fence, waiting until his back was against it to bring your face to his, noses brushing, eyes falling closed.

“S’real sweet of you,” he huffed out, voice strained because you were so close to kissing him but still so far away from his bed.

“I’m a really good friend,” you murmured and despite the insinuation behind it, Steve really smiled at your words, ‘cause god, a month or two had passed with nights like these and you were his friend.

“The best,” he agreed.

—————

Steve’s room was all shades of blue and violet, the streetlights glowing warm through his closed curtains, the navy plaid bedspread matching the wallpaper. There wasn’t much out of place, everything there that a typical boys room should have.

The mess of clothes on a desk chair, cassette tapes piled high by a stereo, some old basketball trophies on a shelf, a few pinned Polaroids of friends above his desktop and— and a baseball bat, topped with nails sitting against the wall in a corner.

You didn’t ask.

You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, peering up at the boy from underneath your lashes, watching as he moved to stand between your legs. You spread them for him, shivered when he brushed your hair back from your face, a sweet touch of his fingers curling around your ear.

“You look pretty tired too,” Steve whispered, hand cupping the back of your neck like you had done to him, fingers twisting slightly on your hair and he gave a gentle tug, making your head fall back for him, eyes wide as you looked up and met his gaze. “Little tense, huh?”

You nodded, lips tucked between your teeth because Jesus, god, fuck, the anticipation was electric.

“So tense,” you agreed and you reached out, hands grabbing at the front of Steve’s shirt, fingers pulling at the hem so he’d lean down for you. He did. “And nothing to smoke to fix it.”

It was an empty complaint, you knew that, the boy knew that. ‘Cause his lips were ghosting over yours and you could feel his smile, less than shy now he knew what you liked, how you wanted to be kissed, learning quickly after hearing you moan for him in the pool a few nights before.

So he was on you, pushing you back onto the bed, his knee coming up to slot between your thighs as he held himself above you, lips connecting easily, groaning when your mouth parted for him almost instantly.

The window was open and you could still hear the buzz of the cicadas in the woods out back, the drone of the pool heaters, the trickle of the water from that one broken jet in yours.

It wasn’t that much cooler in Steve’s room than it was outside, but maybe that was just the way you’d pressed yourself into each other, sleep clothes shifting easily out of the way for wandering hands, a slow soft drag of fingers across ribs, seeking out new places to touch.

And without the smoke, the week, you could really feel it all, a sudden burn and a live wire touch, no haze to numb the sensation of Steve dragging the rough flat of his palm over the soft of your stomach.

He tasted like spearmint this time, like leftover toothpaste and when his tongue brushed over yours, you groaned, back arching for him.

There it was again, that slow motion feeling, present even without the weed, like memories on a film camera, stuttering over grain and dust. Magic, a spell, a live potion, sticky sweet and tinting everything pink and rosy.

It was dizzying, to kiss Steve like this, to be kissed like this. Slow and lazy, open mouthed and tongues pressing, nose pushed to each other's cheeks, breath coming in huffs and short pants, noises swallowed by the other.

And when Steve pulled back, just a little, just an inch, his pupils were blown wide and god, you thought, maybe he didn’t need to smoke at all to feel like this - a different kind of high.

The boy blew out a stuttering breath as he looked down at you, eyes glittering in the low light, shifting so he lay in the cradle of your hips, groaning a little softly when you gasped out at the feel of him.

“This okay?” He whispered, smoothing the hair back from your forehead, leaning into you to press his lips against your cheek, trailing across your jawline.

His hand stayed safe at your hip, tucked under the cotton of your sleep shirt, thumb smoothing over the soft skin there and you nodded, chest burning at the way Steve was looking at you.

Like you were made of gold, like you were some sort of magic.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Steve,” you gasped out, bringing one knee up to cage him in, thigh pressed to his side and you tried not to get ahead of yourself, tried not to tilt your hips up into his.

Your hands got too desperate though, grabbed at his face to pull him back to your lips, kissing a little needier than before, the pace quickening, the solid weight of him pressing you into his pillows. Everything smelled like Steve, like cologne and mint and boy.

It went on like that, hands shaking as you slipped off shorts and shirts and sweatpants, thumbing over the edges of underwear, cotton and lace. It was easy to flip you both over, Steve letting you do what you wanted with him, lying back and pretending that he couldn’t take the control back off of you if he really wanted to.

Instead, he lay back in the pillows, hand gripping your sides, fingers pushing into the dough there, lips parted and eyes hooded as he stared up at you. He was panting, gaze flickering from your chest to the soft of your stomach, splayed thighs, the way your underwear was hitched high on your hips.

He couldn’t help but stutter out a moan when you rolled your hips over his, the wet spot on your underwear pressed into his, your cunt pressed over the length of his cock, separated only by his boxers and lace.

Steve’s face was a pretty riot, eyes wide, hair wild, lips parted and pouty, his cheeks all flushed. It was hard to stay away, too easy to dip back down, your bra scratching softly against his bare chest, lips finding his again in a kiss that made you both lightheaded.

You pulled away only to whisper to him, lips brushing against his, cupids bows touching, eyes closed.

“Can I make you feel good?” Your voice was impossibly soft and it made Steve’s chest ache. “Will you let me help you relax?”

The boy couldn’t remember a time he’d felt more pent up, heart racing, too warm. He was far from relaxed, too eager to watch you on top of him, all mismatched cotton and lace hiding the parts of you he wanted to see, if you deemed him lucky enough.

But he nodded anyway, greedy for your touch, for anything you might give him. The girl next door, too pretty and too sweet, all coconut sunscreen and chlorine scent skin.

“Christ,” he groaned, “yeah, yeah, please.”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, begging for. He just knew that if you were giving it, he wanted it. You moved slow, a whisper against him, lips trailing sweetly over his jaw, his chin, dipping lower and lower until you were kissing his Adam’s apple and mouthing across his chest, your hair tickling his stomach and he felt you grin against him when his muscles flexed, tensing at your touch.

Your hands smoothed over the front of his boxers, sucking in a breath when his cock twitched under the material, hot and hard and thick. You looked up to see Steve fighting with himself, struggling between throwing his head back into the pillows - jaw slack and eyes slammed shut - and keeping his gaze trained on everything you were doing.

You repeated his words back to him, eyes on his as you tucked your fingers into the band of his underwear. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve groaned out. “I think you’re gonna kill me, but yeah, it’s okay,” and he laughed a little here you did, a huff of warm air over his navel as you grinned up at him.

He shivered at every touch, swore out loud when you dragged the band of his underwear down and let his cock spring free, the weight of it slapping up against his stomach.

Another pretty noise when you wrapped your hand around him, thick and warm in your palm and you watched as Steve’s jaw clenched. You soothed him with a soft tsk, lips pressed to the tops of his thigh but the boy was a mess.

“Sensitive?” You whispered, your hand pumping him slowly, twisting your wrist when you got to his head, the tip of him already slick and sliding into your palm.

It took a while for Steve to reply, to contain the boyish whines he was trying not to let out, but he eventually sucked in a breath and pushed himself to his elbows to stare down his body at you, rosy cheeked and in awe.

“Just, fuck— just been a while, since…” he trailed off, gone for you, entranced by the way you were kissing so close to the base of him, lips teasing at his hipbone, trialing across his thighs.

“Since?” You squeezed him, hand dragging up and down his length, hiding your smile when his cock jumped for you.

“Fu-uck, since anyone…” Steve broke off with a groan, deep and dirty. “Since anyone touched me, done this, shit.”

You were sweet with it, moving to lie between his spread legs, free hand rubbing soft circles on his thigh and he was quivering, eyes glazed over as he watched you press a kiss to the side of his cock, keening high at the sight.

“I’ll go slow then, yeah?” You told him, starting a lazy pump up and down his shaft, “we can take it real easy.”

Steve nodded and looked like he was close to losing it already, unable to form a full sentence. He dragged a hand through your hair, keeping it back from your face so he could cup at your cheek, thumb pulling a little at your bottom lip, letting you suck on it as you kept moving your hand over him.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned out, “you look so pretty— too pretty. Think ‘bout you all the damn time, it’s ridiculous.”

You preened at that piece of information, eyes locked onto his before you licked a slow stripe along his cock, getting him slick for you. The boy tensed up, a gutteral sound coming from his lips and it was too hot, too filthy. His hand stayed on your cheek, fingers splayed over your jaw whilst the other one sank into the sheets, gripping them tightly.

“Holy shit.”

“All the time?” You asked softly, “really?” Steve could only nod, brown eyes wide and doe like as he watched you, lips parted and still swollen from your kisses. He was a pretty, pretty picture. “Tell me.”

He whined, head lolling backwards as you slid your hand over him, up and down, up and down, up and down, soft pants coming from his chest as he tried to speak.

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled, “would sit out all night and smoke with you and shit, you always look so fucking pretty and you smell so good. Always waitin’ on me with hardly any clothes and oh god — yeah, just like that, fuck — I’d have to go home and jerk off in the shower, always so hard just from thinking ‘bout the things I wanted to do to you.”

It was indecent, the way Steve spoke, breathy and gasping, little moans interrupting every other word and he held your gaze the entire time, completely unabashed. It was hotter than it should’ve been and you could feel the way your eyes drooped, lip tucked between your teeth as you held in your own sounds.

“Yeah? Like what? I wanna know,” you coaxed him. You leaned in once more, finally wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, lazily licking and sucking at him.

His hips almost shot off the bed and you hummed in appreciation around him, watching with dark eyes as Steve threw his head back into the pillow, neck taught and pulse thrumming. His hands were both in your hair, doing his best to gently smooth it back instead of yanking on it the way his body was telling him to.

The boy was speechless. But it only made you pull off of him, the tip of his cock resting against your lips as you kissed at it sweetly, tongue peeking out to press against it. Steve looked like he was about to lose his shit.

“Tell me,” you urged softly, “tell me what you want to do to me, Harrington. Maybe I’ll let you.”

“Oh, fucking hell, baby.”

Baby. It was a dirty groan, all affection, a heady dose of sticky sweetness as he stared down at you like you were his own personal wet dream.

He gasped out as you took more of him into your mouth, inch by inch until you had to admit defeat — he was too big.

“I, uh, god, I think about you… on top of me, how insane you’d look riding me,” Steve hissed at the way you ran your tongue along the underside of him, pulling off with a wet ‘pop’. “Under me, on your hands and knees, against the tiles in m’shower — fucking everywhere, sweetheart.”

He was quick to catch you as you made your way back up his body, legs a little shaky with anticipation, cunt throbbing as you tried your best not to launch yourself at the boy. You settled yourself back on his lap, Steve’s warm hands clutching tight at your waist.

“You don’t want much, huh?” You teased quietly, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

It fell forward, down your arms and Steve reached to pull it off, sighing at the sight of you. He pushed his hands to your chest, cupping your tits as he ran a thumb over each nipple, smiling when it pebbled under his touch.

“Just you,” he answered honestly. “In any way you’ll let me.”

You whimpered at that, wondering if you should give up the control right then, pass it back to the boy and let him manhandle you about his bed, hands hot and greedy. But you looked down, saw the way he looked blissed out, his cock hard and throbbing for you between your legs, twitching against the soaked centre of your underwear.

“Just me?” You said instead, smiling prettily as you ran your hands across Steve’s chest, appreciating the muscles that tensed there, broad shoulders flexing as he did the same, hands wandering over your navel, fingers flicking against the band of your underwear. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” You cooed.

It might have been your voice, or maybe the words you said, but either wait, Steve gave in and let his hips thrust up, all semblance of control slipping through his fingers and he was reaching for you, fingers slipping underneath lace to find what he wanted. You both groaned out at his touch, the boy’s eyes rolling as he found you soaked and slick for him.

“You make me feel desperate,” Steve stuttered out, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard, dragging you with him to keep you sat on his lap. “D’you know that? D’you feel what you do to me?”

He rolled his hips into you for effect, as if you couldn’t already feel his hard cock pressed against your ass, flush with your cunt, twitching with need for you.

You could only moan, a stuttering sound that made your chest ache and you were reaching for him, suddenly wanting to feel his lips on yours more than anything. “Steve.”

“Ah, ah,” Steve stopped you, pushed a hand to your sternum, fingers splayed over your throat as he pushed you back into place, sitting pretty across his hips. “Stay there for me, hmm?” A sharp tap to your thigh, soothed by a warm palm. “Spread your legs wider, pretty, there’s a girl.”

It turned out, you didn’t really need to let Steve roll you underneath him to gain back control.

You did as you were told, splaying your legs apart as far as you could, knees digging into the mattress as you leaned back a little, hands finding purchase on the tops of Steve’s thighs for support.

It was easy for him like this, much too easy for him to make you fall apart. Fingers hooked into the lace of your underwear, dragging to the side a little dirty, leaving you exposed for him. The boy groaned, a pretty sigh and a soft coo when he slid one thick finger inside of you, barely letting you get used to the stretch before adding another.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he whispered to you, smiling when you feel forward, forehead touching his, panting against his mouth, eyes closed. “So soft, feel perfect.”

Steve held his hand there for you, two fingers curled inside your cunt and he moaned out encouragingly as you rocked over them, taking back a little bit of the control as you set the pace, fucking yourself over him. He was panting, pupils blown wide until his eyes were just black, cheeks all flushed pink for you.

He was mumbling, a steady stream of almost nonsense and praise, mouthing over your throat and jaw, lips kissing at your cheeks and chin as he spoke, telling you how good you were, how pretty, how much he’d thought about this.

And when his thumb pressed to your clit, you mewled, hands grabbing at his hair, the hook in your stomach pulling, a white hot burn, a slow motion explosion, a lick of heat over your navel.

“M’gonna come, Steve,” you told him, breathless, panting. “Please make me come.”

“Yeah? Yeah, aww shit, come for me, pretty thing,” Steve gasped out. “Wanna feel you, can you do that, yeah? Let me feel how tight you get for me, Jesus fucking Christ, babe.”

You did, lips parted against Steve’s as you cried out, a barely there kiss, nails leaving half moons on his shoulders, fingers seeking out messy hair that you could pull at.

And Steve barely had any time to marvel over the sight of you, the feel of you, ‘cause you were still whimpering as you lifted yourself off of him, only to wrap a hand around his cock and line him up with your entrance, the top of him pressed against where you were most wet.

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you offered, eyes hooded and lips parted, messy in the prettiest way for him, underwear still stretched to the side. “I haven’t— there hasn’t been anyone in a while.”

Steve nodded helplessly, wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you down and onto him, inch by inch, a tight, warm fit as you still rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm, clenching around him immediately.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” you gasped at the stretch, the feeling of being so full, fingers knitting into his hair to pull him to you, kissing away his sounds, his pretty moans and sighs.

Steve’s hands stilled you, his breath coming out in short, warm bursts over your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he tried to gather himself.

“I need, uh, shit, you need to gimme a minute here, babe, I’m gonna lose it.” Steve’s eyes searched yourself, wide and filled with a stupid amount of fondness, a sweet, sticky kind of wonderment, like he thought you were made of magic. “You feel too good.”

“I want you to lose it,” you told him and god, you sounded wrecked, and it would’ve been embarrassing if Steve didn’t sound the same when he moaned at your words. “Wanna make you feel good too, can I? Steve, please?”

It didn’t take much to coax him backwards, body slumping onto the pillows, head resting against them as he looked up at you through messy hair. His hands soothed over your thighs, knuckles brushing over the soft of your tummy before he gripped your hips and readied himself.

He nodded, staring down the line of your body, groaning out something filthy when you lifted yourself from him, starting a slow, hot drag of your cunt on his cock, almost letting him slip out before dropping yourself back down.

You planted your hands on his chest, grinning as you let him grab at your ass, your thighs, your hips, kneading the skin there as he tried to stave off his own orgasm, nose scrunched cutely, lips pressed together to keep his noises in.

“There you go,” you murmured, catching his chin in one hand as he panted out, lips parting at your touch, biting down softly on your thumb as you pushed it to his mouth. “Look so pretty like this, Stevie. Wanna see you come for me.”

He fell apart for you like that, your thumb tugging on his bottom lip as his jaw fell slack, moaning out your name, hands bruising your hips as he spilled inside of you. Steve’s hips stuttered, legs shaking as you fell into him, his cock still buried inside of you, lips pressed together in a kiss that was just as good as the first one.

You lay like that for a while, chests pressed together, kissing lazy and soft in the blue light, the air smelling like summer and sex and Steve. He only moved to grab you a warm washcloth, soothing you when you whined as he swiped it between your legs. And when he crawled back into bed with you, sweats hung low on his hips, he gathered you easily, crushed you to his chest and buried his face in your hair.

Neither of you smelled like smoke, or even of chlorine or the summer night air, that sticky, heavy scent that only came with spending the night outside. And despite that, it was the first time in a while where Steve was asleep before the clock hit four.

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Text

Bad addiction

Plot: After an interrogation gone wrong, it is hard not to fall back into old habits and make questionable choices

TW: alcohol addiction, past suicide attempt, depression

Wandanat x Bioquake (Jemma x Daisy) x Bobbi x reader

Many people say that silence is the most deafening sound, more so than any other sound, even more so than the sound of a mine being blasted to extract the precious minerals it contains. And now, as you sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking down at the still-unbroken bottle of vodka in the complete silence that surrounds the room, you realize that these people are right.

It is 3:45 a.m. on a dreary Saturday morning, and that boy's face, imprinted in your mind, has kept you from sleeping and at the same time made you open the bus locker that Jemma had diligently locked as soon as she learned of your "not-so-little" problem.

In your world, everyone has tattooed on their body the first words their soul mate will say when they first meet.

You have to admit that in the unhappy and violent family you grew up in, it was no big deal to have five different phrases tattooed on your back due to some hideous flaw in the system. Two soul mates was abnormal enough, but five? Inconceivable, and Mark, your stepfather, had reminded you of it over and over again until one fine day he died of a heart attack. Of course, the moment he had collapsed in front of you, you hadn't run for help... Besides, they say there is no such thing as karma.

Bobbi was the first of the five mysterious soul mates you met and fell madly in love with. It was Bobbi who brought you into S.H.I.E.L.D. shortly after recruiting Daisy (then Skye), and who finally put a face to two of the people whose words she had tattooed on her right forearm.

"I want to be your sponsor, I want you to get better."

It was Bobbi who helped you out of the maelstrom that had engulfed you, who helped you to what would become six full years of sobriety. Six years without a single drop of your trusty friend alcohol in your stomach. She became your sponsor, was with you day and night, held you while you puked your guts out in the filthy bathroom of a bar at five in the morning, and whispered tough words to you when you told her you wanted to quit. You don't know where you'd be without her. In fact, you don't know where you'd be without all of them. Jemma, Bobbi, Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha are your rock and always will be. But today, today you have to forget and they may be your rock but unfortunately they have far too many demons to face and yours you might as well keep to yourself.

With a knot in your stomach and nausea, you uncork the bottle. The pungent smell of vodka burns your sinuses as you carefully place the cap on the counter. The concave side facing down, just like at the bar. Your fingers tighten around the thinnest part, the contact of your skin with the cold glass makes you shiver, and for a moment, just a single moment, you think you don't want to throw away these six long years of sacrifice, and then... then the boy's face hits you like a slap in the face. Actually, the slap would hurt a lot less.

He was just a boy, a young soldier molded by Hydra who had killed himself to give in during your interrogation. You had been too harsh and too slow to stop him, and you had not stopped him, and he had broken his right cheekbone, causing the small cyanide capsule placed there, just below the surface, to rupture. That boy was walking around with a time bomb between his eye and his nose, and he had done it voluntarily, killing himself with that same bomb. He had killed himself in front of you, his name was Gideon and he had just turned nineteen. And he was dead, he was dead because you were not focused enough, because you were the one who pushed him to do it and now he was gone. He should have had his whole life ahead of him, he had just been subjugated, but now, now there was no chance of redemption for him. So you punished yourself, nothing new, the bullet in your right leg is proof of that...even though you had stopped the bleeding by now. You just needed to punish yourself, that's all. And the bottle you hold in your fingers serves the same purpose as the bullet.

"What are you doing?"

The sound is so sudden and unexpected that you let go of the bottle and it shatters on the floor of the bus. The plane continues its course as if nothing had happened. How fascinating machines are, so emotionally numbing and yet indispensable.

Bobbi approaches you slowly, as if afraid to frighten you. Her hair is disheveled and her expression is a mixture of concern and weariness. You swallow, begin to shake your head and fall to your knees, repeating the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as you fiercely pick up the shards of glass from the bottle.

"Stop or you'll get hurt."

The blonde girl is not even in time to say these words before a piece of glass gets stuck in your hand, causing a deep cut that begins to bleed profusely. You don't notice and Bobbi is scared to death. You don't feel the pain and, on the contrary, you continue to clear your mind.

Perhaps you have become a machine too, emotionally numb. Damn, how you want it; to feel no more pain - isn't that the human dilemma?

Bobbi snaps forward, tired of seeing you hurt again and again, and grabs your wrists with her hands to stop you; it works. You suddenly freeze, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. Bobbi never loses sight of you for a minute as she gets up to get a cloth to dab the wound and stop the bleeding.

You stay like this for about ten minutes, in silence, while Bobbi bandages your wound with two stitches for "safety". He wraps your hand, but when he is done, he does not pull away, contrary to what you expected. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes meet before breaking the silence.

"Do you ou want to tell me what happened?"

You always said that Bobbi, as an alternative to super badass spy, might as well have been a psychologist (as well as a model, of course). In fact, her tone is exactly what one would expect from a psychologist; gentle but detached. In a warm but cool clarity of action. In the art of weighing words that only Bobbi is capable of, and in which she is the first even to Jemma.

When she realizes you have no intention of answering, her hand quickly finds your leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

You bite your lip and shake your head slowly.

A small smile curls her lips as she leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Well... you did good rockstar."

Bobbi rests her forehead against yours, caressing your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We're both tired and need to sleep, especially you. I'm not dropping the subject, and it's definitely something we'll discuss in the morning, but until then, until then, we're going to bed with the others. And I don't want to hear any objections."

You follow her, whatever she wants, you're going to give it to her. You owe it to her after the shit you wanted to do tonight; not that you wouldn't have done it if you had gone back. But now, now is a thought that has to be put off until the morning.

Bobbi tucks you in and wraps her arms around your sides, hugging you from behind. Your nose breathes in the lavender scent of Diasy and the vanilla scent of Wanda as Nat's soft snoring and Jemma's recovered words accompany you into the world of Morpheus.

.........................................................................................

As soon as you wake up, the weight of the conversation you're likely to have with your soul mates hits you harder than you'd like. And if you hate getting up on other days, today is even harder.

You get out of bed and walk down the hall with the same agony as a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

No, a condemned man is better off than you. At least he has the consolation of death; you, on the other hand, have only the certainty of a head-spanking from your girls.

It's barely 10 a.m., and your girls' voices echo down the narrow, cold hallway leading to the kitchen. As soon as your head pokes through the door, the voices stop.

"Hey."

Your stomach turns as you sit down in the only empty chair.

Wanda is at the stove, Natasha behind her, trying to help, even though you all know the Russian spy is anything but a good cook. Instead, Daisy, Jemma and Bobbi are all three at the table. Needless to say, all eyes are on you.

Wanda places a stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table and with a shy smile invites you to help yourself to her delicious masterpieces.

You are not hungry. The silence between you is so strange, so different... that it has created a knot in your stomach. You are sure that if you even tried to take a bite of Wanda's pancakes, you would immediately run to the bathroom and throw up.

It is not you who breaks the silence, nor is it Bobbi; contrary to what you might have expected, it is Daisy who does so. Well, maybe you should have seen it coming.

"How could you even think that?"

You know very well that it is not a question. The others know it too.

The young superheroine wants to know the reason that almost made you break your promise.

Not that you could forget that promise. How could you?

It's hard to forget the feel of your girls' damp, heavy clothes and the sting of their deeply disappointed stares as you limped into the foyer of your simple, unassuming Manhattan apartment, staggering around with a bottle of vodka in your right hand and a gun in the other with only one bullet in the clip. It is hard to forget the look of terror on her face as you squeeze the trigger three times in a row, the cold metal of the barrel burning your temple. It is impossible to forget their screams as Natasha lunges at you, at the exact moment when you pull the damn trigger for the fourth time in front of their disbelieving, frightened, terrified eyes, and the bullet lodges on the wall behind you; inches from your head, as the gun, now unloaded, is kicked away from the Russian spy. It is impossible to forget the promise you made to them about never touching even a drop of alcohol again.

Over time, you have learned so many terrible things that you have trouble falling asleep at night. And when they say that addictions of any kind don't change a person...they lie. Fuck, how they lie. Lying bastards in an age of lies. An addiction changes you. No choking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I - yesterday was hard, the mission - I'm sorry."

You don't look up, you don't meet the eyes that you learned to love and accept only after a long time. You don't have the courage, you can't look at the most important people in your life, knowing that you made them suffer again. How many more times will you have to hurt them before they realize they no longer want you in their lives?

Bobbi sighs and shakes her head slowly. He gives you a small smile, just a hint of the one you loved before anyone else. She squeezes your thigh and reaches her hand out from under the table.

"We're not mad, we're just worried rockstar."

"Bobbi's right, Detka, we are scared that what happened years ago might happen again."

Wanda plays with the rings you exchanged when you all decided to move in together.

Natasha doesn't speak; she just watches you in silence. So does Jemma.

Daisy, on the other hand, seems on the verge of exploding, and that's exactly what she does.

"You can't do this to us again, okay? Do you know how long it took us to get over that? We still have nightmares about that night and you know it! How could you even think of drinking? You had to talk to us about it, you had to..."

Bobbi interrupts the inhuman, wrapping her arm around her hips and holding her close as she plants small kisses on the top of her head.

"He killed himself right in front of me, Daisy! He was a young boy, he had his whole life ahead of him and I didn't stop him!"

You slam your hand down on the kitchen counter, carefully away from your soul mates, using so much force that the deep cut you made the night before reopens and the bandage quickly soaks with blood.

A small grimace crosses your face as soon as your hand hits the marble surface.

"Y/n!"

Jemma takes your hand between her own, examining the wound medically and glancing at Bobbi as Wanda runs to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

"Honey, it's not your fault. The only culprit in all of this is Hydra. Yes, the boy was young, but he was aware of his choices."

Natasha strokes your back as Jemma uses needle and thread to sew up the cut on your palm. Jemma is about to put the fourth back on when you pull your hand away from her loving care and turn away from your girls.

"Y/n, please come back, I'm not done yet."

You look away; your left arm falls back at your side and small drops of blood run down your hand and fall to the floor. Your only desire now is to hold on to the bottle and drink until you see the empty bottom. You do not deserve their love, let alone their understanding.

"You're thinking very hard, detka," Wanda whispers, holding out her hand to you, and when you don't take it, intertwining your fingers, the hurt look on the Sokovian's face makes your heart clench.

"I thought I had overcome my addiction, and yet when some event shakes me, I am still in the grip of my emotions and it sucks....You want to know if I still want to drink? Yes, it gets stronger and stronger and it will never go away. That's the problem, I... I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life.

You all feel the small gasp that leaves the telepath's lips as she looks into your mind.

"Last night I... I took your gun," you whisper, turning your gaze to Natasha, "I know the password to the safe where you hide it; besides, it's not hard, just remember the day you first came into my life, and yes, yesterday I took the gun and put it to my temple, but I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't, okay? Just like I didn't touch the bottle of alcohol in front of me, so yes, I'm not okay, I'm shaken by what happened and part of me will always want to end it, but I'm not going to make you go through this again. I love you too much to hurt you like that again."

You scratch nervously at your wound, pinching your stitches before a gentle hand stops you. Jemma takes your hand back and makes the final stitches as the girls surround you.

"It's going to be okay honey, we're going to get through this too, but you need to go back and see Dr. Garner."

You sigh and shake your head before being stopped by a rather pissed off inhuman.

"I don't think you have a choice, so you're going to do what we say, okay?"

You sigh, nodding slightly as you begin to find the steel floor beneath your feet particularly interesting.

"Y/n, where did you leave the gun?"

Bobbi whispers and the question that has been hanging in the air until now is asked.

You teleport to your bedroom and retrieve the gun from its hiding place, where it had been masterfully concealed among some of your old clothes, and then Teleport back to the kitchen and hand the gun to Bobbi. The blonde takes it and slides the magazine out of the black Glock she holds in her hands, and when she does, your heart stops. You didn't think he would check.

"Y/n...? One bullet is missing-"

Daisy grabs the clip before Bobbi can finish her sentence,

"Are you fucking serious? You did this? You lied to our faces?!"

"I, it's not what it looks like."

Your throat goes dry as you look for the nearest chair to sit in; you wrinkle your nose as the bandage you've been so busy tightening around your thigh rubs painfully against the wound. And while the other girls are too busy trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda reads your mind and her eyes go wide as she falls to her knees in front of you. The other girls look at her with confusion and concern before the Sokovian speaks.

"Detka, Detka, where is the wound?"

Your breath catches and you freeze. They can't take away the pain you feel, they can't - you don't deserve the relief, you don't.

"N-no! Me, it's okay, I took care of it, I'm fine."

Natasha, who had been silent until that moment, steps forward and pulls your pants down before you can even think of stopping her.

The blood-soaked bandage shifts to reveal the bleeding, red wound; an ongoing infection, most likely -- after all, you didn't put any disinfectant on it, and the only thing you cared about was wrapping it tightly with a bandage so you wouldn't lose too much blood. You don't even know if the bullet got out, but considering your teleportation skills, it probably did. The only reason you don't stay naked every time you teleport is because Fitz made all your clothes out of a dwarf material that apparently allows you to stay clothed.

"Damn it!"

Natasha says, leaning over your thigh and looking at Jemma, urging her to get the first aid kit. The biochemist runs to the bathroom and returns in less than a minute with the kit in her hands. You kneel down next to the former Russian spy before putting on your gloves and cutting off the now completely useless blindfold.

Bobbi walks over to you and places a hand on your forehead to check your temperature before asking Natasha to hand her the thermometer.

"She's warm, I think the wound is giving her an infection."

Bobbi puts the thermometer to your lips, and when you make it clear that you are not going to take your temperature, Bobbi raises her right eyebrow and looks at you intently.

"Rockstar, I don't want to force you to open your lips, but you really messed up, your health is not the best right now and we're really worried, so please, please... help us help you, okay?"

Bobbi's voice breaks as her look of pain and concern finally makes you realize how much this, how much YOU are costing them...so you do everything they tell you and a full twenty-five minutes pass before you are finally patched up and lying on a cot in the infirmary.

"Why did you do this? Are you... do we have to take you off missions? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Natasha approaches the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your good leg.

"Obviously, considering what he did."

Daisy blurts out, and the fact that she relies so heavily on her sarcasm lets you know that she is genuinely worried about you.You bite your lip, a small sigh rippling the air around you as you trace the bandage on your hand with your thumb, distracting yourself from the conversation you are about to have.

"I... just wanted... I needed to feel physical pain, and not the kind of pain that tears you up inside. I just needed to feel nothing, just for a little while...I'm sorry."

Jemma squeezes the IV bag and, after a final glance at the monitor showing your blood pressure and heart rate, sits down in the empty chair to your left before taking your hand between her own.

"We're going to help you, okay? It's going to be okay, we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we're going to get through this, just like we did before."

"But we need you to help us, rock star."

"And you need to tell us how you feel, especially if it makes you do things...dangerous for yourself, detka" Wanda comes over and gives you a small smile with eyes full of concern, just like the other girls.

Daisy crosses her arms under her breasts and you see worry and anger distorting her face and then, to the surprise of you all, the inhuman bursts into tears. Sobs shake your body and your need to embrace her makes you get out of bed and reach out to her, hiding a grimace of pain.

"Dee, Daisy, hey, it's okay love, I'm sorry, I know how that night left a deep scar on you, I... when certain thoughts come, I can't think straight... I can't think at all, damn it. I don't... I don't think about how much damage what my mind is telling me to do could do to you. I'm sorry, my love."

Daisy throws herself into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the cot as the inhuman wets your shirt with her tears.

"I know what it feels like to want the pain to stop, many of us do it”. Your body stiffens at the thought that at least once both Natasha and Wanda and Daisy felt exactly what you felt and are feeling now, "but you are not alone, I know you feel alone but you are not. We are here and we love you so much it hurts..."

"I am so sorry...I, I will try to get better, I want to, for you and to finally be well without having to resort to pain or alcohol."

You whisper, leaving kisses in Daisy's hair as you hold her close. Your girls stand still, letting the inhuman vent before they too join your embrace.

They say nothing, they don't need to. The fact that they are there, their warmth is more than enough and they bring you a slight relief and the burden you have been carrying for so long finally lightens... at least for now.

Thanks for reading! Spoiler: some poly!aos x wandanat x reader is coming! Comment, like and support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

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