#SAM HAS TO GET ATTENTION SOMEHOW | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunvmars · 4 months

Text

only you || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader (brief platonic!nat, sam, and bucky.)

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word count: 7.1k summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up. warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.

"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.

The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really- but how drunk is she, exactly?"

Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.

Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.

"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.

Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."

He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.

Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.

You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.

"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"

He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"

You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.

"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.

Right. His home.

"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.

He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.

How could he say no to that?

"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.

He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.

Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.

"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.

Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.

"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."

"Will do-"

Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.

The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."

"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.

"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.

When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."

"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.

You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.

"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"

Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."

Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.

You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.

"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.

"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."

"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.

Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.

"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.

A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.

When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.

When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.

He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.

He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.

"I don't think I'm right for you."

The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.

He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"

The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."

"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"

"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."

"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"

All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."

He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."

Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.

"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.

"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.

“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”

Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.

“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.

As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.

He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.

The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.

You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."

"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.

He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."

The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.

The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.

Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.

The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.

The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.

The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.

Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.

He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.

Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.

"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.

"Thank you," you say.

It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.

"You okay?"

"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.

The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.

Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.

Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.

He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."

The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."

Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."

"Anytime, truly," he replies.

There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.

It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.

You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."

"I just... I have one question, that okay?"

"Hm?"

Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"

When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.

"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"

"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."

Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.

Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.

"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.

You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.

His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"

A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.

Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.

You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.

He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.

But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.

Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.

"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.

You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."

Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.

"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.

You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.

If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.

"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.

"I don't know..."

"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."

"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."

"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.

You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.

"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."

Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."

Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.

"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."

A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."

"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.

He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."

The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.

Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."

The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.

"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" he responds.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.

"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"

"Steve?"

"...Yes?"

"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."

Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.

With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.

He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.

Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.

Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.

Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.

"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"

"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."

Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"

The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.

Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."

You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.

The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.

Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.

Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.

Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.

He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"

You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.

Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.

"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."

"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."

A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.

"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"

Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.

"Angel, what're you-"

Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.

Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.

You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.

He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?

The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.

His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.

"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.

A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”

Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.

“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”

You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.

"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.

"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.

Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.

You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.

"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.

You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"

Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."

Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.

After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.

Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.

You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.

He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.

After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.

"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.

"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"

"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.

Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.

He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.

"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.

"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."

A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."

"For what, angel?"

"For being so...you."

You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.

The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"

"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.

"'M glad it's you."

"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."

Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.

Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.

Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."

He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.

taglist!

@pigeonmama @rogersbarber @buckysprettybaby

if you'd like to be to my general taglist, feel free to ask or visit my taglist form to be tagged in more specific fics :)

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jpnriikicore · 9 months

Text

── hickey galore

paring colby brock x fem!reader, word count 774, genre kinda suggestive, authors note there is a age-gap between colbs and the reader but of course the reader is of age, ( masterlist )

something colby has always held over your head since you’ve known him is the fact that he knows your neck is incredibly sensitive. in public he would place a gentle kiss on side of your neck just to watch you squirm. he would continue to tease you about it through the day and continues on like nothing happened. god, the teasing gets worse in privacy.

now, your cuddled up on the couch you settled between his legs. the arm that started at your waist at the beginning of the night was now holding the back of your thigh. one hand is interlocked with his. your fingers playing with his rings as a comforting habit you’ve picked up over the years. you were at this party that sam decided to throw last minute. you were almost late colby somehow convinced you that you had more time than what you did just so he could kiss you longer.

the majority of the time of getting ready was you attempting to cover up the hickeys that he gave you, but eventually in the end you just gave up and went to the party covered in his hickeys anyways.

his hand moved closer lifting your dress a little bit higher.

"colbs." you mumbled, putting your hand on top of his in a poor attempt to stop his actions.

"don’t worry nobody’s paying attention, kid." he whispered in your ear.

the nickname that fell from his lips sounded degrading. you weren’t a kid anymore. you were incredibly mature for your age. he used every chance to make you remember that you were younger than him. you weren’t that younger than him just young enough to make society look down on you two.

every time his hand moved an inch higher the more his touch felt like electric waves going through your body.

sam called him over as you shifted away, so colby could get up.

he leaned against the wall as he continued to talk to sam. occasionally glancing over at you. he’s wearing the black button up that you adore on him. the first few buttons are undone like normal, but tonight a few more buttons were undone. like as if he was just begging for attention exposing his collarbones and some of his chest. you could see his tattoo peak through the shirt some. he knew exactly what he’s doing.

he ended his little conversation with sam. immediately walking back over to you maintaining eye contact. he settled you in his lap. you "accidentally" shifted yourself closer to him in a way you just knew that would rile him up.

"i want you." you whispered in his ear while your dainty hand played around with his necklace.

his eyes glanced at sam who seemed to be preoccupied with a friend as he sit down the glass that was filled with whatever liquor he was drinking.

he pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. his hand slipping up your dress completely his ring claded hand stroking your legs and stomach. the coldness of his rings compared to your warm flushed skin made a shiver go up your spine.

"come with me," he whispered, you shifted onto your feet and you link your arms with his as you walk upstairs to the bathroom. "you have to be quite for me."

you promised to his good girl as you walked into the bathroom. not a second later after he locked the bathroom door he taken back by you pushing him against the bathroom wall kissing his chest leaving a few hickeys, but you found yourself being roughly pushed against the wall. the roles being switched.

he continued to add to his collection of hickeys on your neck. whines escaping from your mouth due to the sensitivity of your neck.

"what would sam think seeing his little sister like this?" his hand slid up to wrap his hand around your throat adding some pressure to the sides just enough to keep you dazed.

hickeys littered your entire neck and area that your chest was exposed due to the dress you wore being low cut. you was completely flustered, your hair was completely messed up, your dress was wrinkled, and your eyes was blown out with lust.

you couldn’t even think straight. in response a loud whine escaped you. fuck, you was fucked.

"want to take this back to the car?" he mumbled, against your lips. you untucked the rest of his button up that was tucked in his jeans. letting your fingers fiddle with the buttons of his shirt hurriedly trying to unbutton the rest of them.

"mm-hmm."

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagines #colby brock fanfic #sam and colby #xplr

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misshugs · 26 days

Text

The Cameragirl || snc

You've been Sam and Colby's cameragirl for some time now. Usually, nothing too crazy happened to you in most investigations, but this time...

warnings: paranormal activity, reader getting attacked, near death experience, strangling(?), cursing, angst?

a/n: took a bit of inspo after watching the boys' video of the asylum, but nothing exactly like it. just the fact that the place is an asylum

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 3.6k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

As they were making their iconic intro and explaining what this new place was about, you made sure to have a sturdy pulse whilst filming them.

"Today, it's just me, Sam and our lovely cameragirl, Y/n." Colby said, letting you shift the camera towards your face and smile at it.

"Hello there." You said, making sure your face was extremely close to the camera, merely because it has become your way of introducing yourself.

"And since it's only us today like the good old days, we decided to make something fun. ALL of us." Sam explained to the camera and smirked, looking directly at you.

You batted your eyes, looking at them while they kept on smiling menancingly at you. "This wasn't a part of the contract." You said, gaining a laugh from both of them.

You zoomed onto his face and began talking with this soft, almost narrative voice. A voice you very well knew they enjoyed. "What is this oh so fun idea you seem to be hyping about, mr. Golbach?"

"Why thank you for asking." Sam nodded slightly, moving his attention towards the camera. "The three of us are gonna do a little challenge tonight." He clapped his hands together as you began unzooming the camera, putting Colby back on frame.

"That's right, we're going to walk alone, lights out throughout some of the most haunted corridors from this place." Colby continued. "The owners of this place told us it gets freaky when people are alone, so we thought this might get us some good activity."

"We have some cameras with nightvision but we're not gonna see shit." Sam added, "After a while, we all should find our way back to the main lobby."

"So stay until the end to see how that's gonna turn out." Colby says, getting close to the camera before covering it with his hand, making you stop the recording for the cut.

"That was pretty good." You said, looking at the video slightly.

"You're still good with the challenge, right?" Sam asked, looking at you. You scoffed.

"Please. I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure about it. Remember you told me about it before the video?"

"I know, I know. Just making sure, you know how I am." He laughs. "Wouldn't want you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"You're saying that like we haven't known eachother for how long?"

He chuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright, so since we're all settled, should we start right away?" Colby chimed in, looking at both of you.

"Not yet. This place has some good cinematic potential, lemme cook first." You said, looking around with your flashlight.

"Aight, we'll let you do your thing, I'll go ahead and look for the equipment." Colby said.

"Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask the owners about something." Sam said, taking out his phone.

"Go out with Colby, I'll be here waiting." You said, fixing back your camera to start recording.

"Alone?" They both asked, looking at eachother and then at you.

"I do my best work alone, gentlemen. You know that." You begin walking towards the shadiest corridor you've seen in your life, without even looking back.

"Oh wow. Fearless. She's trying to do the challenge before us." Colby laughed.

"Alright, I'll be super quick. If anything happens, just yell. As loud as you can." Sam said, smiling.

"Copy that." You laughed.

In the blink of an eye, you were left alone. You were used to these type of things, so it didn't bother you much. You've somehow become numb to all of this paranormal adventuring.

And that was one of the main reasons why you liked to take control of the camera, since you were able to keep your cool in stressful situations, making it easier for the viewers later on.

Plus, you didn't know how to act on camera and they were the professionals... allegedly.

Whenever something odd happened, you made sure to try and record as much as you could, in the best angles possible. You liked to joke around and call yourself a professional in your craft, although sometimes it wasn't even a joke.

You were passionate about it. The videos and the ghosts, it was only natural to try and do more, risk yourself to do something more interesting and outgoing.

That's a piece of yourself they loved about you. You were simply a perfect match in their combo.

As you began to do your cinematic, you began to have shivers. A sudden draft of air passing through you, as if a window suddenly opened.

Looking around, there was no possible way of that happening. You were in the middle of the corridor, absolutely no chance of an air draft simply passing through so randomly.

You thought it might've been a bit odd, but nothing you haven't felt before anyways. While you kept on making some videos, an eerie feeling of someone watching crossed over your spine.

The sensation of a presence slowly getting closer to you behind your back.

Almost feeling the heat of another person behind you, towering over you.

Hurriedly looking back, you were met with Sam's hand almost touching your shoulder. He stopped midway, knowing he got caught trying to scare you. "You bitch." You spit out, making him laugh.

"Damn it!" He said mid laugher. "I was so quiet this time, how do you always seem to know?"

"I can feel you lurking closer, you stalker." You looked away from his gaze, trying to ignore the thoughts of his pretty face. You began walking back to where he came from, meeting Colby in the process.

"I'm not a stalker, if anything, I'm protecting."

"Quietly from the shadows, sounds like a stalker to me, but you do you." You smiled softly, looking at the confused Colby.

"I left for a second, what did I miss?"

"Stalker behavior, nothing else." You said, putting your camera up again and ready to record.

Colby shook his head from side to side, already being on your side of the story without even asking further questions. "I can't believe you brother."

"Wha- it wasn't-..." Sam sighed, defeated. He knew you were joking, so he wasn't going to win anyways.

You laughed and pointed the camera at them. "Ready when you are." They nodded and you began to record.

"So as you can see, in our hands we have some devices that we'll scatter throughout this first room. If you've been here before, you'll probably be familiar, but if you haven't, these are basically some motion censor devices that will let us know if something walks infront of it." Colby explained, turning one of the devices on and showing to the camera how it worked.

As they organized everything, the REM-POD immediately began beeping. "Oh, shit. That's the rem pod." Sam said, stopping on its tracks. "That was the temperature dropping."

You made sure the camera caught that as you got closer to it. "Oh fuck. I was feeling a bit cold since we got here." Colby added. "Alright. I think we're ready."

"Okay. If there's any spirit around that would like to communicate with us, we would like for you to use any of these devices we've put up for you." Sam started, as you made sure to get far enough from everything for the shot.

"You can touch these lights on the floor, or maybe this device I have on my hand." Colby continued, pointing towards the EMF reader. "We mean no harm, we'd just like to talk to someone."

A couple of seconds passed, looking around, waiting for something to happen.

"Maybe they don't want..." Sam began, before getting interrupted by the REM-POD beeping, making you hurriedly move your camera angle. "Oop. Nevermind. Thank you very much. Can you do that again if you're here with us? To let us know it wasn't something else?"

Silence filled the room for a while, before the device started to beep once again.

Excited, they began asking questions to this entity, expecting for it to be somewhat intelligent enough to give answers back.

Luckily, it was. It seemed to be someone that died inside the asylum, a woman. Curious about the story of this woman, they kept on asking questions. Some of them being answered, others being completely ignored.

Asides from the constant beep from their device, you heard a knock coming from one of the corridors. Quickly looking around, they stopped talking. "What?" Colby asked.

"Heard something." You whispered. The room went silent, followed by what sounded like footsteps getting closer. You turn the camera back at them and their faces were shocked.

"Holy fuck." Sam whispered.

"That was like... thumps. We're the only ones here, right?" Colby asked him.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be." Sam says, walking towards the place they heard the sound, quietly. You followed close behind. "Hello?"

Nothing. They kept on looking around, searching and at the same time waiting for something else to happen. "There's no one here." Colby says. "But that was clear as day."

"Super clear, the camera must've have heard that, for sure." Sam said, looking at you as you nodded. "That was crazy."

"Yeah, let's try something else but closer to this area, maybe it's more active." Colby said, and all of you nodded.

A couple of minutes later, and you were all set up. This time around, they turned on a spirit box to try and communicate better.

The idea was to first use it as normal, then for Colby to do the Estes Method.

And so, the spirits began to talk.

"What's this." It spat out. Colby and Sam looked at eachother, smiling.

"Hello, this is a spirit box, you can use it to communicate with us. Would you mind telling us who you are?" Sam said, looking around.

"Hello?"

"Hi, hello." Colby responded. "Who are we talking to."

"I'm scared."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Colby asked, furrowing his eyebrows whilst looking at the camera.

"Behind you."

They quickly looked behind them. "Oh, fuck. I hate that." Colby said, as you smiled at their gestures.

It quickly faded away when you felt the familiar presence of someone behind you.

Heart racing, you looked around for a second, but there was nothing there. It didn't mean the feeling went away, though.

"Monster. Care..." It seemed the audio cut before finishing the whole word.

"Monster... care?" Sam asked, confused.

"Or maybe it meant careful? Like, careful of the monster?" Colby questioned.

"It would make sense. What monster are you talking about? Is it harming you? Are you scared of this monster... or... person?"

It took a while before responding. Last thing it said, before a screech filled the radio was... "Run."

Quickly, they turned it off. They looked at eachother. "That was terrifying." Colby said. Sam nodded and sighed.

"Let's try and look around for some other place. This doesn't feel safe." Sam said and everyone agreed.

For the past hour of recording, moving around and joking here and there, you felt a bit uncomfortable. Usually, you weren't the type to get scared over the paranormal, but this place felt more eerie than usual.

You heartbeat has been increasing slowly, as well as a slight pain in your chest that quickly faded. You felt watched.

There was a point where you even felt slightly touched, quickly warning the boys about it.

Due to this, they almost discarted the idea completely, thinking you might be getting targeted, scared that it might do something to you. It took you a couple of minutes of convincing them to keep on recording before the conversation was dismissed.

You tried to brush it all off, as 'something you've felt before', but deep down you were really anxious about it. Perhaps it made you feel better to think about it being just the nerves.

But you weren't the type of person to feel these nerves for no reason.

"Hey, you good?" Colby touched your shoulder and whispered to you, noticing you seemed a bit weird. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just zoning out."

"Yeah, I noticed." He chuckled, looking into your eyes. "You sure you're okay though?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly concerned. "You don't look well."

"What? Do I look like a ghost to you?" You asked, smiling, which quickly made him show that gorgeous smile you loved.

"More like you've seen one." You shook your head.

"I'm fine. I've just seen some shadows running in the corners of my eye, but nothing too big to point out."

He batted his eyes. "You've what?"

"Calm down, you know I see those things all the time. It's nothing new." Half of it was true. The other half, well... there was a chance you might've seen a whole figure standing close to a doorframe, but you felt your imagination was tricking you too much tonight, so you didn't say anything.

You weren't a psychic or a medium or something close to it anyways. If anything, you'd probably consider it more like a hallucination due to the constant lack of sleep you've been having lately.

"I know, I know, but still. You could tell us about it, you know? Maybe we all see the same thing you do and since you don't point it out, we don't notice."

You rolled your eyes playfully. You were about to say something, but a breeze passed through your ear, a soft whisper saying "Come play."

You jumped, covering your ear and walking closer to Colby. "Shit." You whispered.

Confused, he held your shoulders. "What? What? You heard something?" His worry was enough for Sam to stop setting the cameras up and walk closer.

"What happened?" He asked. You looked around where you were standing.

"Did you guys not hear that?" You asked, the shook their heads. "I heard something like... right next to me." When you said that, Sam began recording once again.

"Alright, so... apparently Y/n just heard something right next to her." He began explaining to the camera, pointing it at you.

"It was like a whisper, it.. uh... it just said 'come play', like, the creepiest shit you can say. I even felt the air on my ear, that shit made me jump." You tried laughing about it to not let the mood down, but it wasn't working much.

"Although I really want to, maybe we shouldn't do the challenge." Colby said, looking at Sam straight in the eyes, genuinely worried.

"Guys. Come on. Don't back down when we're this close." You said. "We're basically done for tonight, this is the last thing we're doing and we're out, right?"

"...yeah." Sam whispered. "Let's..." He sighed. "Let's do it. Just like she said, we walk through the corridor and come back straight away."

Althought skeptical, Colby nodded. "Fine. Let's hurry up then. The quicker we begin, the quicker we're leaving this place."

And so, everyone held their cameras and said their goodbyes. The three of you went through your respective corridors and began walking, alone, with no light.

"Alright guys. I'm not good at, like, talking to the camera but I'll try." You sighed, pointing the camera at your face while slowly walking the dark corridor.

"Honestly? I'm usually not as creeped out when we come to places like this, but this one is like... up there. It's giving me the chills, making me paranoid, I feel like I'm... seeing thing. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. That's... that's also an option now that I think about it."

Looking around with the camera, although it's absolutely useless, you started feeling out of breath. Almost as if the air didn't reach your lungs anymore. "It feels... hard to breathe." You took a deep inhale and shakily exhaled.

You gulped, your throat suddenly feeling dry as the lack of oxygen was evident.

"I'm just gonna walk... faster. I wanna get this over with..." And so, you did. But the further away you got, the worse it all felt. You felt your vision starting to get blurry although you could barely see anything.

You paused as your vision began to get used to the darkness.

At the end of the corridor, what you could shape out like a human figure was standing there. Seemingly the same one you barely saw before.

This time, it didn't seem to go away.

You were also alone.

Unable to breathe.

You don't know when it started, but you were unable to breathe properly. You choked, trying to regain yourself from the feeling.

Your neck feeling tight, your stomach hurting at the sudden feeling.

Putting your hands on your neck, you coulnd't feel anything that would make you feel this way. You started to get worried.

You felt as if you were being choked. You tried to scream, but all that you could spat out from your lips was a soft, quiet, 'help'.

Trying to turn around and walk back, you saw the figure again and got scared, falling towards the floor. You coughed for air, sucking back as much as you could but being unable to.

Leaving the camera behind, you tried to crawl back to where you came from, but the lack of circulation on your body failed you as you coulnd't handle it anymore.

Your body falling on the floor, the camera seemingly recording your movements come to a halt.

Your eyes closing, leaving you unconscious.

It didn't take long before Sam and Colby got back to the lobby. Waiting for you, something seemed off.

They knew the corridor wasn't as long as theirs. You should've been the first one out by that logic. They've been waiting long enough and they were starting to get worried.

Even though the concept of the challenge was to be alone in the darkness, the idea of you being in trouble was too much to bare.

Heck, even if you were pranking them, the anxiety of you not coming back on time was driving them insane, they were ready for a scare if it had to come to that.

But the scare they were expecting wasn't the one they got.

Minutes of walking and calling out your name came to a stop when they saw you on the floor.

Hurriedly, they ran towards you and fell to the floor, yelling out your name. "This isn't funny, Y/n!" Sam yelled, moving your body, only to notice how cold you felt. His heart sank.

"Y/n, come on!" Colby said, putting himself on the other side, looking at Sam. The color from his face was gone when he felt her body. Colby, worried, touched your body and understood why he looked that way. "Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

Throwing the camera to the side, Colby quickly checked your pulse. "Sam. Call 911. This is serious." You still had a pulse, but you weren't breathing. First thing that came to his mind was CPR.

While Sam began to call, Colby was trying as hard as he could to help out. He began doing mouth to mouth, trying to bring some oxygen back to your lungs.

Tears streaming down both of their faces. Colby started making compressions to your chest, while Sam was talking to the 911 dispatcher and using the flashlight to illuminate Colby.

Luckily, they weren't too late. You began to cough and moved to the side to spit out some saliva. You breathed heavily and both of the guys sighed in relief.

As you tried to catch your breath, they softly held you up in place while your color came back to you. You blinked a couple of times, adjusting your view to your surroundings.

When you looked at them, they hugged you tight. "Fuck..." Sam whispered. "Let's get the fuck out of here right now." He held you softly and helped you out, as Colby grabbed all of the cameras.

It was hard for you to walk. It felt as if a ton of weight was keeping you from even standing up. It felt as if your limbs went numb, the lack of oxygen probably acting up.

Sam noticed, and didn't hesitate on holding you up and putting you on his back so that you could rest. They began walking as fast as they could, reassuring you that you will be fine.

You were focused on getting your breath back while listening to them scream at the spirits.

"You are not allowed to follow us home." Listening to Colby talk like this, while taking all of the equipment made you feel light. You started moving your arms and made sure to hold onto Sam, closing your eyes.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving." Sam reassured you, waiting for Colby to grab everything and get out of there in a rush.

After the police arrived and handed you an oxygen mask, you started feeling much better. You had some marks on your neck, like some hands were just squishing the air out of you.

Your body... at first, you could even see your veins pop out of your legs because of your lack of color. The poor circulation that ran through your body for a couple of minutes really drove your body to its limit somehow.

It took you a while to be able to stand on your two feet again, but before the police left you could walk on your own just fine. Sam and Colby however still managed to help you out.

"Let's head back home." Sam whispered to you. You nodded slightly and tried to walk on your own, only to be held up by Colby.

"Don't force yourself right now. You need some rest." He said, taking you back to the car. Your face having a rush of blood because of the gesture.

"I... I can walk."

"Let us do this. Please. It's too much already that you fainted right when we weren't with you." Sam said, looking at you, your heart racing at the look of his blue eyes upon you. You gulped.

"...f..fine." You said, resting your head on Colby's chest, making him smile.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

part two is up!! the link is in the beginning! <3

thanks for reading all the way! likes, comments and requests are much appreciated.

-nikkõ

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delaber · 1 year

Text

A Date (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: you have a date and Bucky’s not exactly happy about it.

Words: 3.8K

Trope: friends to lovers 💞 with a jealous Bucky trying his best to be brave, and failing horribly.

Notes: another fluff piece to mend Bucky’s heart ❤️ honestly, I have a problem with all these fluffy fics I’ve been writing recently. I just cannot stop myself lol.

"You have a date?" he manages to splutter just before the panic takes over and makes his heart skip a few beats.

Fuck!

A fucking date?!

His fingers are slipping on the wet handle of the pan he's in the midst of cleaning, and in that moment, all he can think about is how happy he is that he's currently bent over the kitchen sink so you can't make out the shocked expression on his face.

You're nodding beside him, playing with the dishtowel you're holding but Bucky can hardly make out what you're saying when you return his question with a quiet "yeah".

His ears are ringing bells and he just wants to get the fuck out of there.

Silently, he's begging for you to stop talking. He doesn't want to know more. Doesn't want to hear what you've agreed to and who you're... - fuck, what if it's someone he knows?

What if it's Sam?!

Shit!

The panic in Bucky's chest runs amok! If he walks in on his two best friends fucking, he's gonna kill himself!

With dread, he realises that he has to know how careful he needs to be around the compound...

"With - uh - with whom?" he clears his throat and curls his toes in prepared mortification, his narrowed gaze firmly fixed on a wet piece of broccoli that's lying lonely and sad at the bottom of the sink.

Please don't say Sam, please don't say Sam...

"You know the cute guy from the coffee shop?" you answer proudly, and it makes Bucky's heart spring violently back to life. That guy??? "- he finally asked me."

Well, it's not Sam - yet somehow, it's worse.

Deep breath, he tells himself and plasters on a neutral expression as he looks up from the pan and directly into your eyes.

At least you look excited, he concludes as he takes in your dreamy little smile that's usually reserved for when vibranium fingers briefly brush over your warm skin but that he now has to share with... him. The moron in the green apron. Mr I'm-too-busy-flirting-with-your-girl-to-get-your-order-right.

Fuck, he's burning up!

"That's great, sweetheart," he hears himself croak from far away, trying his best to sound like he's happy for you and not as if his heart is in the process of being ripped out of his chest. "I'm real happy for you."

"Thanks, Buck," you playfully bump your hip against his while looking down at your hands as you once again twist the towel between your fingers.

You seem almost... nervous. This date must really be a big deal to you.

He gulps and pushes away another incoming wave of nausea. It's not as if he hasn't long ago accepted that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. You're friends. That's it.

"Are you excited?" He asks without really knowing why. He doesn't want to hear your answer. To hear you verbally confirm the look you already have on your face.

Slowly you look up at him and he has to chomp down on his inner cheek to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"You know what?" you ask quietly with a tilt of your head and Bucky's heart starts racing even harder. "- I actually am."

Even you sound surprised - not that Bucky can really blame you.

"Mmh," he merely hums and pretends there's a particularly stubborn area on the dirty pan that needs his attention.

"Is that weird?" You ask.

He can feel how the sincere question in your voice laces itself around his abdomen, squeezing him tight.

Is it wrong of him to want to snap the stupid piece of teflon-coated metal in his hand in half? You're his best friend and he should just be happy you're happy.

Fuck it, he is happy! He loves you more than anything and you deserve to feel this way - he just wishes it was because of him and not someone else.

"No, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to untie the invisible knot behind his navel as he starts scrubbing again. "Why would it be weird?"

Thankfully, you don't answer.

...

Cold droplets of water are running over your forehead and down the length of your nose, desperately trying to reduce the tension that's been resting right between your eyebrows since your conversation with Bucky last night.

Splashing your face with water is a stupid attempt to make yourself feel better - you know that - it hasn't worked the other times you've tried it and this must be the tenth attempt since you woke up this morning. The only thing that'll truly help is if Bucky would tell you what's going on.

He's been acting weird since last night, and even though you aren't sure what reaction you'd been hoping for, this definitely isn't it. You know he isn't exactly the biggest fan of the man who's taking you out for dinner later, but getting so annoyed he can barely uphold a conversation? Well, that wasn't really a scenario you'd even considered at all...

You suppose you could just tell him the truth - maybe that would make him more accepting of your choice of date - but it's not as if you can really tell him that the only reason you're going on that date to begin with is to force yourself to get over, well, him.

You've known Bucky two years now and apart from small moments here and there, nothing's happened. It's been two excruciating years full of pining and painful almosts and ifs but he clearly doesn't look at you that way and you don't want to keep putting yourself through the heartbreak. You deserve to spend your friday nights with someone who actually sees you for what you are: beautiful, smart, desirable, a woman.

And as you stand looking at yourself in the mirror, you realise that you need this date to get Bucky out of your head. Fuck if he doesn't approve of the cute guy from the coffee shop. It's none of his business who you're going out with and if he wants to be annoyed about it, then so be it.

Yet you still cannot stand the thought of him sitting by himself all night. He hasn't seemed like himself all day and you know how he can spiral over the smallest of things.

Thus, you check for Sam in the kitchen, the gym, and in the spa area in the basement of the compound, but eventually find him in the common room on the third floor, completely hypnotised as he stares at the television screen in front of him, the playstation controller grabbed tightly in his hands.

You do a quick scan around the room to confirm that it's just the two of you before you approach him. "Wilson, have you seen Bucky today?"

"Bucky? Uh - no," Sam mumbles without moving his gaze away from the animated character who's running through an abandoned city. "I assume you've already tried the dark cave he calls his room?"

"I know where he is," you sigh and flop down on the sofa next to him, stretching your legs and putting your feet in his lap. "I was just hoping that maybe you'd talked to him."

He doesn't answer apart from a few incoherent noises you're sure are for the game and not for you, so you poke at the controller with your toes to get his attention. "Sam..."

"Hey! I'm trying to save humanity from a zombie apocalypse here. Keep your stinking feet away from me," he playfully flicks the underside of your foot without sparing you a glance. "I already told you I haven't seen your siamese twin all day."

"Yeah, but do you think you could... go check on him maybe?"

"I'm busy. You go check on him."

"Sam..."

At the sound of your soft-spoken words, Sam sends you a brief side-eye before he finally tosses the controller down on the sofa table with a loud sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you shake your head innocently. Is it really your fault that Bucky is too childish to accept the man you're going out with? No.

Sam runs his eyes over you and squints hard. "You guys are usually so dependent, you're practically joined at the hip. And now you want me to go talk to him even though you didn't do anything?"

"Look, he's being weird," you sigh, "- can you just check on him? Please? Maybe have a guy's night in with beer and that stupid zombie-game you're always playing or whatever?" you gesture to the television screen where the character from before stands panting, saying random stuff every few seconds. "I don't want him to be alone."

"First of all, The Last of Us is not stupid!" Sam raises his index finger at you, feigning an insulted huff. "Secondly; a guy's night in..? While you're doing exactly what if I may ask?" he arches an eyebrow, urging you to keep talking.

"I - uh - I have plans," you say quickly and try and look determined although you can feel your entire face heating up. "...a date of sorts."

The dead-panned look on Sam's face is quickly wiped off, instead replaced with an annoyingly broad smirk. "You have a what now?" he chuckles teasingly.

"You heard me," you roll your eyes.

"Oh I heard you loud and clear," he hoots, "you are going on a date!" he says, emphasising the last word with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't be a dick about it."

"My, oh my. We're finally gonna see what kind of man that can sweep the rug from underneath you."

"Okay, I'm leaving," you make a move to stand up, but Sam interrupts you by putting his palm to your shin.

"Come on, I'm just teasing," he laughs, "tell me about your date. Who's it with? - Not Bucky, I assume."

"Why would I go on a date with Buck?" you shrug nonchalantly although you can once again feel the heat radiating through your every feature. "It's the cute blonde from the coffee house down the street."

"Oooh, the guy who looks like a young Brad Pitt but with humour?"

"That's the one," you press down on your lips and avoid looking directly at Sam. God, this is embarrassing.

"He's a cutie!" Sam teases with a chuckle.

"I know," you play with a loose thread on your shirt, avoiding his eye.

"Then why aren't you more excited about it?" He asks but immediately emits a groan, "Jesus... do not tell me it's because of Bucky?!"

"I'm worried about him," you whine and bury your face in the sofa cushions.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're going on your first date in forever and you're worried about that sourpuss?"

"Sam, you didn't see the look on his face when I told him about it! He hates the guy - I think it really upset him."

"Of course it upset him," Sam scoffs, "It's like taking candy away from someone who really wants to fuck said candy!"

Your eyes snap over to Sam in an instance. Completely taken off guard, your voice dies in your throat. Did he just...? No, surely, you must've misheard.

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed," Sam groans, "I swear to god, he's two days away from crawling behind you just so he can lick the ground you're walking on!"

The earth has stopped spinning. "W-what?"

"The puppy eyes? The 'pick me' behaviour?" he rolls his eyes at your shocked face.

Your heart starts pounding so fast you can barely keep up. "Are we talking about... Bucky? As in our Bucky?"

"Uh, huh," Sam nods as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "That guy's practically begging you to take him by the hand and lead him to your bed. He's so in love with you, it's disgusting to look at."

"He's what?!" You exclaim loudly, completely out of breath. This is definitely news to you! "No, no, no! Bucky's not in love with me, we're friends," you pant with the blood rushing past your ears.

Sam shoots you an unimpressed side-eye, "yeah keep telling yourself that"

"What do you mean?" you pant, trying to puzzle together Sam's suspicion with your disbelief.

"I swear to god, the two of you don't even have a single brain cell put together..." he rolls his eyes, "I've seen that boy almost snap his neck because you were laughing and he wanted to know what you were laughing at. Trust me when I say that he's not annoyed that you're going on that date - he's jealous."

Well... fuck!

...

You don't think you've ever been this nervous as you pace the hallway outside Bucky's bedroom. You've been here ten minutes now, desperately trying to force yourself to actually make contact with him, but you're holding yourself back. There's so much on the line and what if Sam's incorrect? Then, you will truly have mucked up and everything between you and Bucky will be ruined.

Shit!

You stop pacing. You can hear his favourite album from the forties playing on the other side of the wall but apart from that, there hasn't been a single sound from in there.

You pray he's in a better mood than when you walked in on him angrily hunched over his bowl of cereal this morning, but the fact that he put on the only type of music that can calm him down, doesn't really scream 'put-together'.

It makes you even more nervous though you know you have to talk to him at some point. It's not as if you can avoid him forever - so before you can truly think about the upside of postponing the inevitable conversation, you raise your knuckles and carefully knock on his door.

Everything inside you tenses up. You vision becomes blurry, and you seem to automatically focus all your attention on the sounds coming from inside his room. There's a short shuffle, a sigh and then an irritated "what?!" muttered from somewhere behind the walls.

This is bound to go wrong.

You consider running away and pretend you've never even been near his room, but it's too late to back out now. You have to talk to him at some point, you remind yourself.

With your nerves running wild and the blood pumping through your every vein, artery, and fibre, you open the door a little and poke your head inside his room with a small "hi," your throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He's sitting on the bed with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hand buried inside a book that's lying closed in his lap. He looks angry at everything and everyone - as if he's minutes away from strangling someone - but when he finds your eyes from across the room, the tense muscles in his cheeks seem to unclench a little.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, licking his lips. "I thought you were Sam..."

You smile, so relieved to see him softening that you automatically step inside his room without waiting for him to ask you to. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You're not," he shakes his head with a small gulp, "I thought you'd left already. Don't you have that big date?" he asks in a weird voice and sends you a stiff smile.

"Not until seven," you shrug and sit down next to him on his bed, immediately noticing how he's started avoiding your gaze.

"Right," he nods and occupies himself by putting his book on his bedside table. "So - uh - still looking forward to it?"

How do you tell your best friend that no, you're not looking forward to it because he's the one you really want to go out with?

"I don't know," you shrug, suddenly so anxious your temples have started pounding, "not really."

He finally looks up at you again, his slate blue eyes jittery as they meticulously search your face. "What happened?" He asks with tightly knitted eyebrows, "you were so excited for it yesterday."

You hesitate. "...Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly," he sits up a little straighter, a serious look on his face, "- he didn't upset you, did he?" He says on impulse, his voice suddenly dark and dripping with venom at the mere thought as he reaches out for you and puts his fingers on your arm.

"No Buck," you shake your head and take a deep breath to get your pulse under control. "He didn't upset me."

"Then what?" He squeezes your arm softly, his eyes concerned as he tries to read you, "you can tell me anything."

"I know... It's just that..." you hesitate and consider ending your sentence with I'm in love with you, but the words die in your throat.

"What sweetheart?" he shuffles a little closer to you.

"Bucky," you heave a big breath of air to prepare your bold question that can potentially change everything between you dependant on his answer. "Do you not want me to go on that date?"

"What?" his eyes immediate travel over your face and you can almost hear his pulse running haywire as his fingers let go of your arm. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just..." your breathing picks up as you scan his every anxious feature. It makes you anxious too. "- you started acting weird the minute I told you about it. You've been avoiding me all day."

His fingers find your arm again, his grip a little tighter than before as he desperately looks at you. "No, no, no, sweetheart! That's not what happened," he licks his lips and plasters on the fake smile he's been practising in the mirror all day. "- I mean... I'm not the biggest fan of the guy but who you're dating is really none of my concern. I'm sure he's great, and as long as he treats you well, I'll make sure he stays on my good side," he says softy and sends you a smile that seems a little too genuine for your liking.

You hesitate again as you check his face for cracks, but his smile stays intact and happy. "...So you're really okay with it?" you ask in a small voice, mortified.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, of course I'm okay with it!" he slides his fingers down your arm, capturing your hand inside his fist. "I really just want you to be happy. That's what's important. And you deserve to be taken care of for once instead of being stuck here with me and Sam." He reassuringly squeezes your fingers tight, but it just feels as if he's in the process of letting you go.

Slowly, you can feel your heart breaking.

You knew it... You knew Sam was wrong. Bucky isn't in love with you. Never has been. Never will be. Things are exactly the way they've always been and you're left pining after a man who doesn't want you back.

God, you feel like a idiot for getting your hopes up like that.

"Good," you nod resolutely, fighting hard to not let the heartbreak slip through your well-feigned mask. "I'm happy to hear you feel that way."

"Of course I do," he smiles solemnly.

"I should probably go get ready then..."

"Yeah," Bucky nods and lets go of you. "It's almost six."

With a sigh you hope he doesn't hear, you stand up from his bed and brush down the front of your jeans, not really sure you even want to leave his room.

He's looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Have fun," he says while his hands grab the sheets underneath him, fisting the fabric. "- can't wait to hear all about it."

"Thanks, Buck," you feign a smile to match his, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, sweetheart..."

You turn around with a wave of your hand, but the smile on your face falters the minute you've turned on your heel.

You can hear his heavy breathing over the music playing in the corner, and when you reach out for the door handle, a delicate sound finally breaks the reticence between you.

"Don't go..."

At first, you're not sure if you're imagining it, but then you hear him shuffling behind you, and when you turn around and face him, he's on his feet. "Don't go on that date," he whimpers in defeat, "I'm begging you. Please... don't go."

"Bucky..."

"I'm in love with you," he says guiltily with a gulp.

Your heart stops.

"- and I can't pretend I'm okay with you going on dates when I'm not."

You're completely speechless. You want to comment on everything. Run to him and proclaim that you're his. That you've always been his. But you're nailed to the spot and all that manages to escape your lips is a tight whimper.

"- I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now..." he closes his eyes and looks as if he's in pain. "And I know I'm risking everything by telling you this," he gulps, "but I've been keeping it in for so fucking long, trying to protect our friendship. I just can't keep pretending I don't want... more. It's stupid, I know."

"Bucky, it's not stupid," you finally manage to croak and it's as if the force that've been gluing you to the spot finally lets go. "It's not," you whisper as you take a few long strides over to him, stopping right before your chests touch. "It's not stupid," you repeat and reach a hand upwards, caressing his bearded chin.

His eyes are glistening, and his breathing is coming in ragged as he searches your face. "Sweetheart," he gulps in confusion, "I don't... - what does this mean?"

"It means -" your hand reaches up so it can rake through his hair, coming to a halt on the back of his neck where you can feel the goosebumps travel through his entire body. "- that I'm in love with you too. Have been for quite some time. Since I met you, actually."

Now it's his turn to be glued to the spot.

His mouth falls a little open and you can tell by the look on his face that he's in the process of questioning everything, so you underline your confession by putting your forehead to his. "I want to be yours," you whisper and observe him closely.

At first, he tenses even harder, but then a small smile starts tugging on his lips as he finally relaxes in your arms and pulls you closer. "I want you to be mine, too," he declares sweetly as his heart blossoms in his chest. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

"It's you," he whispers against your skin, "- It's always been you."

"Kiss me," you beam and almost cannot stop smiling silly when you reach up for his mouth, finally claiming the softest, most pillowy lips you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers #bucky barnes jealous

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themorningsunshine · 1 year

Text

I like me better when I am with you

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary - Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.

Warnings - Fluff, Bucky’s internal thoughts, jealousy

Word count - 2.8k

a/n - I had so much fun writing this.

Bucky’s internal monologue is in italic.

Stark parties were his least favourite. They always consisted of the same kind of people. Bucky didn't have to remember their faces to know that. They were all the same. Rich people with money much more than they could handle, spend it in the worst and the dumbest way possible. No, really, why the hell would they get their already filthy expensive phone coated with gold? And don't even get him started on when he had heard a man complaining that Tony hadn't put 'perfectly squared ice cubes' worth 300$ each in their drinks. Hell, he had somehow started respecting Tony's choices and that man was currently wearing a 100,000$ suit.

But these parties were never this unbearable. He always used to have company. He still has Steve sitting beside him and don't get him wrong, Steve is his best friend but there's a limit as to how much Bucky can hear that man complain about the new recruits.

"Can't believe Tony was able to do that. That man has got brains. Only if he was not so arrogant. Don't you think, Buck?"

His name slipping from Steve's mouth makes him look at his best friend who has been talking to him for .... well, a long time. He didn't even know when he switched topics.

Bucky never really zones out. He is a great listener but today, something else has caught his attention completely. Something which keeps bugging him and he doesn't even understand why.

Steve sighs as he realises just how much his best friend has been listening to him. "You know, Sam is right, you do have a staring problem."

"No, I don't," Bucky says in a way that makes it look like that's the most absurd and offensive thing he has ever heard.

Steve chuckles and says, "You don't have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't hurt you."

Bucky gives out a sarcastic chuckle. After everything he has been through, there is nothing in a hundred-mile radius of this party that could remotely hurt him. "I am just fine, Steve. Why would I be hurt?" He doesn't say he is good, or great, he says 'just fine' 'cause that's his default setting. To be just fine. He is rarely ever more than that.

No, you are, when you are with her. His inner thoughts whisper to him. He shakes his head to get that thought away as if it had offended him too.

Steve gives him a small smile and nods his head towards a direction that Bucky has been not so subtly staring at for the past half an hour.

And there you are. In all your glory. In the beautiful, simple, golden outfit you are wearing, sipping on your drink in the most gentle way possible. The colour golden suits you, Bucky thinks.

That's what you said when she was wearing blue. A person can look good in 2 colours. Then what about green and - Shut up.

He looks at you again and notices the thing that has been bugging him. You're still talking to him. The man with the too smooth suit and the too silky hair and the too gentle words and the - ... God, he hates that man. And he has reasons for it. Who the hell wears a black tie with a black suit? Doesn't he have any other colour to wear? And who the hell drinks non-alcoholic drinks when at a Stark party? And then Bucky remembers you telling him once that you hated the smell of alcohol. That you couldn't stand within a metre radius of the people who had drunk a lot. But, that man doesn't know that.

You are still smiling at him and talking. But, that's okay. You love to talk. You could spend hours talking about the movie you just saw or the book you just read. That's nothing. And smiling, well you smile at everything. That's your default setting. To find beauty in everything and give it the most beautiful and genuine smile he has ever seen. You can really find the good in everything.

Maybe that's why she is friends with you.

That's not the point. You even smile at strays. And that's who the man is, a stray, a wild, animal.

Cannot be wilder than you. Or did you forget who you are, Buck?

Bucky doesn't like these thoughts. They tend to come back to him in crowded places. When there are too many people staring at him, talking about him. You always used to be there with him. Making fun of all these rich people and their etiquette.

The both of you would mostly escape from the party early, especially when you were done with what you actually came here for, which was always food. He had to agree. Tony did know how to throw a good party.

You would sneak him into the mini theatre and would watch the silliest movies, just to laugh at their absurdity. Or you would just take him to the roof and the both of you sat there, stargazing and talking. You were really a good friend of his.

Friend? Friends don't glare holes into the back of the man they're just talking to.

This man had approached you at the start of the party and hadn't left your side. Clingy. Rich, coming from you.

You didn't owe Bucky anything. You didn't sign a contract that you had to spend all these parties with him. No, it wasn't any of that. That doesn't mean it couldn't hurt.

"Buck, why don't you just tell her?" For a second, Bucky is taken aback. He had completely forgotten that Steve was still sitting there. What had happened to his super soldier skills?

Too busy gaping at her I remember asking you to shut up And I remember telling you not to fall in love with her

Bucky clears his throat at the last comment by his inner conscience. Sometimes, it acted weird.

"Tell who, what, Steve?" Bucky feigns nonchalance as if he has no idea what Steve is talking about.

Steve chuckles. "How many hers do you have in your life, Buck?" Noone. Just her.

Bucky is sure he is going crazy. Maybe he has had too much to drink. You haven't touched alcohol. Oh, I wonder why that is.

"I know many people who use that pronoun, punk. Nat, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, many shield agents, Carol, oh and yeah... y/n. You have to be more specific" Well done

"Fine, I will be more specific. How many 'hers' do you stare at?" "None." He replies, a little too fast and Steve gives him a knowing smirk. And there it goes...

"I am not staring at anyone, Steve." He gives him a pointed look. "Whatever sails your boat, Buck. But I'd recommend talking to her before it's too late."

Before it's too late

That sentence echoes in his ears. He didn't want to lose you. Not to the annoying guy who had still not left your side, not to the shield agent who always insisted on training with you whenever he got the chance, not to anyone. He didn't want to lose you. Never.

How can you lose someone who isn't even yours? This time his inner voice is gentle, pleading as if it is silently begging him to do something.

Before he even knows what he's doing, Bucky is out of his chair and walking towards the bar.

You chuckle at something the man says before you notice Bucky walking towards the both of you and your smile gets wider.

"Hey, doll." He greets you, completely ignoring the man standing a couple of feet away.

: "Hey, Buck. Please tell me Steve didn't talk your ear out about work." You say with a chuckle. Of course, you had noticed Bucky talking to Steve, your eyes tended to look for his even in a room full of hundreds.

Bucky just lets out a chuckle, shrugging, already feeling much at ease now that he was with you.

A clearing of throat brings both of your attention back to the man standing beside you.

"Gosh, I am sorry. Bucky, this is Todd. Todd Williams. You remember the law firm Tony was talking about the other day?"

Bucky just nods his head, least interested in who this man was.

"He is the owner." You introduce him to Bucky with a polite smile on your face and Bucky wants to rip this man's head off. Even though he just knows his name, he is pretty sure he is going to hate him, if he doesn't already.

"Hi, Bucky, I have heard a lot about you." The man brings his hand forward for a handshake and Bucky thinks he will chop off his hand before he shakes it with the man.

"James." He replies with a stern look on his face.

Todd awkwardly takes his hand back and narrows his eyes in confusion.

"My name is James. Only my friends call me Bucky."

You widen your eyes at Bucky. You knew he never liked meeting new people and that he was not really the warmest to strangers, but he was never so.... hostile. If looks could kill, Todd would be six feet under by now.

"It's nice to meet you, James." Todd tries again, now slightly scared of the former winter soldier.

"I wish I could say the same. What are you even doing here?" Bucky asks, annoyed.

"Bucky." You whisper yell his name to remind him how Tony had conducted an emergency meeting to tell everyone that they have to be nicer to the guests. You, then put on a smile before replying for Todd, "He is here for the charity auction. Isn't that nice?"

Bucky squints his eyes at you as if he can't figure out what's so nice about giving your money away for charity.

"That is just an excuse, really," Todd says, in an attempt to break the tension. "I came here in hopes of meeting a beautiful woman." He then looks at you before saying, "Mission accomplished."

You giggle at his words, flustered. You know he is just trying to be nice and not flirty. He had just told you how badly he was missing his wife who was much better at these charity auctions than he was.

What you don't notice is how Bucky's jaws tense and his fists clench. If they were not standing in a room full of so many people, he would have picked the glass from the nearby table and broken it on Todd's head. Tony's warnings are damned.

He instead just says, "Well then, you don't have to stay for the auction. Leave."

Todd nervously chuckles."I could. But now that I am here, maybe I could enjoy the party for a bit."

"You should. Tony's parties have the best appetizers." You tell him, desperately trying to make him feel comfortable when there is an ex-assassin who looks like he could slit his throat if given a chance.

"But you know what's better? The exit gate. You should check it out and while you are at it, maybe also get your ass out of here." Bucky says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"Bucky." You gasp. This wasn't funny anymore. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

You give Todd an apologetic smile before holding Bucky's hand to get the hell out of here, without waiting for his response.

Bucky stops for a moment to look at Todd again, "The exit gate is that way. Feel free to use it while we are gone."

You pull him with you and take him towards the nearest balcony, not leaving his hand till you are out in the cold air and can't hear the party from inside.

You let go of him to cross your arms across your chest. "Buck, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Showing an annoying joke of a man his place," Bucky replies, without a single ounce of guilt for what he has done.

"Bucky." It's your turn to be upset. "He is a businessman. A rich one. His contribution could be great for the auction. Do you not remember what Tony said?"

"I don't care what Tony says. What is he gonna do with so much money, anyways? Buying some piece of mind?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the nine realms were you so rude to Todd?" You snapped.

"Oh, so now you call him Todd, huh?"

"That's literally his name."

"It's a very stupid name, okay? But it suits him. A stupid name for a stupid man. In his stupid suit with his stupid money." Bucky rambles, disgusted as if he hasn't heard a worse name in his long life.

"Buck, you are behaving like a 5-year-old now. What's - ?" You stop yourself as an amused grin spreads on your face as you put the pieces together. "Oh, god!!" You place your palm on your mouth before whispering, "Bucky, you - You are jealous."

"No, no I am not, Not even a bit. Nada.Negative. Why would I be?" Bucky shakes his head as if that were a ridiculous thought. Why was everyone getting the most ridiculous ideas today?"

"I would have believed you if you hadn't said no 6 times. You are jealous." Your smile grows wider as you take a step towards him with a pointed look. "You are jealous because he was talking to me the whole time and he called me beautiful and said that I had a pretty smile." "When did he - " Bucky stops himself as he realises the rage in his voice will give him away. He takes a step back and turns away, till he is standing near the railing.

You stand beside him, about to say something, till you look into his eyes. His eyes have a look you have seen before. He is hurt. He is processing a lot of things that he doesn't want to think about. This wasn't amusing anymore. "Hey. I - I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bucky, I am - "

"I am not jealous, okay?" He now turns and looks directly into your eyes. "I am not. I just don't like it when someone else has your attention. Not because I am jealous, no. But because I am scared." Bucky swallowed thickly. You had seen him vulnerable before when he had nightmares and you were trying to remind him where he was or when memories from his time at hydra hit him with full force. But this was a different kind. It was as if he was laying his soul bare in front of you. Voicing his worst fears.

"I am scared because I don't want anyone else to realise how amazing, smart, funny, kind and just so damn lovable you are. Because then they will steal you from me. I will lose you forever and - and I don't want that. I don't want to lose you to someone else. I don't want to lose you." He says the last sentence as if he is begging whatever god will listen to not let his worst fears turn true, to let him have this. Let him have you.

"Tell me, doll. Why am I so scared to lose you when you are not even mine?"

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, you closed the distance between the both of you. As your lips met his, everything else stood at a standstill.

Bucky was too shocked to respond for a minute. This couldn't be happening. Did you feel the same way about him? How -

All these thoughts turn into nothing until you're the only one comprising his thoughts. And Bucky realises this is how it has been for a long time. It was just you. In his heart and his mind. Your warmth spread through him and captured his soul until it was impossible to separate the two of them.

He kisses you with the same love and gentleness as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer towards him.

When the necessity to breathe arose, you pulled away but still stood close.

"I want to be yours, Buck."

If the kiss had stolen his breath away, your words make his heart beat frantically. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

"You don't mean that, doll. You - "

"I do. I do mean that, Buck. I choose you. And I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd always choose you”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #marvel #oneshot #jealousy #love confessions #bucky barnes fluff

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dcxdpdabbles · 21 days

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Excuse me? I really love your work and I was just wondering if we can get another chapter of Passion for Fashion?? I really love that but no rush whether or not u wanna. (Also, I'd love to see the Batfam or croc or anyone be educated WHAT KC actually is lololol I just think it would be fun.)

Danny stares at the man across from him with barely concealed bemusement. Red Robin hides behind his menu, muttering about all the pizza toppings.

It seemed pineapple was a must, and he fought not to wrinkle his nose as various people shot their table side glances. He's noticed the staring since they changed, but Danny is tired of the lingering gawking.

He gets that his date looks suspicious in his get-up, but it's not the worst.

They had to stop at a second-hand store, where he went in to buy a trench coat, a pair of large sunglasses, and a fedora, per Red Robin's request. While inside the store, Red Robin somehow produced a blond wig and some makeup, changing his features just slightly so that he appeared to be a different person.

They both stop at a local gas station to change outfits and finish their prep work in the bathrooms.

Danny had gone in sweats, a stained shirt, and mismatched shoes—he had not been expecting a date—but when he left, he came out wearing an experimental style Dan had found.

It was called Corp Goth, and he secretly adored it. Maybe Sam was onto something when she said a pure black offit made anyone attractive.

It was a form-fitting black jeans, a top with a darker shade of black long-sleeve shirt, and a flowing black trench coat. Dan had included various jewelry pieces, with strict instructions on where to put them so that the style was "balanced," it gave him the slightest hints of old-style rock aesthetics.

Danny felt good about his clothes until Red Robin saw him. He didn't think he was that bad-looking, but if it caused the other to run into a streetlight, Danny would hate to think what other less kind people would say.

"Would Hawiian be alright?" Red Robin finally asks, his voice just a tad bit high. Is he that nervous to be seen by people?

Danny raises a brow. "If that's what you like. I'll do whatever you want me to."

The other teenager—is he? He looks older now with his make-up—a few years—and makes a strange choking sound. "Okay."

"Alright. So now that we know what to tell the waitress when she comes here, can we return to the fact you broke through my window?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs to get comfortable.

A girl nearby chocks on her water, making Danny's head snap in her direction. Her friends quickly pat her back and urgently speak to the blushing girl. When he confirms she is all right, Danny returns his gaze to Red Robin.

He is taken aback by the sharp attention now being aimed at him. Yes, he can't exactly see the other eyes behind those dark sunglasses, but he feels the heavy stare all the same. "I want to discuss your connection to Killer Croc and the Infinite Realms."

Danny considers it. On the one hand, he can't talk about his secret mission, but on the other, he needs to find some information about this place. He's gotten bored wandering around, tinkering with things while the fashion contest dragged on.

They have been here for months and have made no headway in helping Batman. Heck, Danny has yet to even see him. If anything maybe this guy will know some information.

But he thinks he shouldn't lay all his cards just yet. So, he needs to bend the truth a little.

"There isn't much to tell about Killer. He was involved in our kidnapping a few days ago. I guess they hired him without explaining what the job was since he came to apologize for almost trafficking us." Danny shrugs, thinking over his answer as he takes a small sip of his soda, missing his mouth slightly. He quickly catches some of the spilled drink with his tongue, mentally debating himself for being so clumsy. There is a gasp from the same girl three tables away.

Danny fights the urge to sink into his seat as he ignores her. "He said he sells drugs, not people. How he tracked us down is anyone's guess, but since he came all the way in person, I figured I should invite him in and offer him a drink."

Red Robin tilts his head. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you invite him in and offer him a drink?"

"Ugh, 'cause it's good manners?" Honestly, did big-city folks really have no sense of being civil? Amity Park has a small population, but there are enough people to be called a city, and none of them have ever been confused by the idea of being invited in for a drink.

Red Robin considers this answer before he leans forward. "How about your connection to the Infinite Realms?"

Here, Danny carefully selects his replies, ensuring that all his answers are accurate, just not in the way the others will get. "You can say it was my parents, but mostly my mom. She was the one who made the final step and connected the family to the Realms."

"Your mom? Where is she?"

"Dead," Danny whispers, thinking of his own mom, whom he hasn't seen in weeks. He wonders if she or his dad has noticed him missing yet. If they have reported it.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Red Robin looks down at his hands in silence in a show of respect. Danny can appreciate it. However, that doesn't last long before he lifts his head again, this time with a stubborn little tilt to his mouth.

"That wasn't a full explanation of how the Infinite Releams involve you or your brother."

Danny shrugs. "It's how we got our meta powers. The portal to the other side opened on Dan and me, triggering our ice and glowing eyes. We've been inside it a few times, but the portal sealed shut the last time. We haven't been able to go back."

"That's why you here," Red Robin says in great realization. "Gotham has enough death in it that it helps your powers."

Not really, but they can work with that. Danny smiles, putting one finger up against his lips, and Red Robin is true to his name by turning a lovely red hue. Danny hasn't seen anyone blush that hard since Jonny 13 when the other asked him out on a date.

It's cute.

"That and it's also the cheapest living city. Dan really has his heart set on being a fashion designer so we need to save money on fabrics and stuff."

"You're his model. Have you always wanted to go into modeling?"

"Not really. I like mechanical engineering more. Maybe when I finish helping Dan, I'll look for a school to apply to." Danny shrugs, leaning forward to give the other a smirk.

Star once told him that Danny's slow up and down was his best flirting technique after he had done her math homework for her. In return, she agreed to help him get better at dating.

He's not sure how well her lessons had gone, seeing as he still struggled to get a date back home (with the living anyone), but he thinks some of it was right since Red Robin goes even redder, if that's possible.

"Enough about me. How did you get involved in smashing widows and looking tasty in spandex?"

"I-um- well funny enough I-" Whatever he was going to say is lost as a figure jumps down from the darkness, landing on their table. Danny yelps, pushing himself away, but in doing so, he falls backward since his chair is not meant to be leaned like that.

He crashes to the ground with a swear, closing his eyes at the impact. The back of his head stings a little, as Danny slowly cracks open his eyes and stares upwards- at...a man in a bat suit?

"Moby Dick! Are you Batman!" He gasps, finally feeling like they are about to make a step forward in their mission.

The man glares down at him before grunting. "Red Robin. Retreat to cave."

"But-"

"Now"

Then he throws a smoke bomb on the ground. Danny leaps up, but both men are gone by the time the smoke clears. "Wait! Mr. Batman, sir, I need to talk to you!"

There is no reply, just the girls filming with their phones and the sound of speeding cars. Danny kicks the ground. "Oh come on!"

When he wanders home, he finds Dan lying face down on the ground with various ice cream tubs surrounding him. On some pieces of paper are various-sized hearts, the initials "DF + KC" inside them.

Dan is singing heartbreak sounds into the carpet, muffled by his tears.

"Dan, man, have some dignity. You knew the EverBurning for like ten minutes."

The muffled crying gets louder, and Danny rolls his eyes. He slumps onto the couch with a sigh. "Listen, I think I got a lead on Batman. It's a man dressed like a bat. How hard can it be to find him?"

His clone-turn-twin raises one hand, pointing to a smashed button Danny missed when entering the living room. Upon closer inspection, he is startled to find out that it's a miniature microphone and tracker. There is a very tiny symbol on the side.

"Did Red Robin bug our house after breaking our window!?" he asks in outrage as Dan nods. "To think I flirted with him!"

Dan sobs louder. "I tried flirting with the best tail I have ever seen in my life and you got a date with a stalker! We're going to die alone!"

Danny really hopes they finish this stupid mission soon. He's getting tempted to let Clockwork's bomb take him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #fashion for passion #Part 5 #Dan is in the trenches #He found the bug after cleaning the glass #Bruce interrupted Tim's date #Danny unknowingly looking mind numbing hot

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tanoraqui · 3 months

Text

obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

#doctor who #JRR Tolkien #ficlet #my fic

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junicult · 1 year

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So... don't know if you have this in the works after your last post, but what would it be like with the bachelors going down on reader for the first time? If you're comfortable with it, that is. 👀

!! the bachelors going down on you for the first time

contains ; soooo much smut. i got so carried away mb y’all LOL. nsfw (minors pls dni.) fem!farmer. oral (f!receiving). praise. established & unestablished relationships. fwb!shane. sexual guiding. inexperienced!sebastian. implied height difference in alex’s.

harvey.

- haha.

- i love this man.

- he is so (i cannot stress this enough) so affectionate.

- absolutely infatuated with you and everything you do.

- as a doctor, he has a lot of people he spends time thinking about: but you are somehow always the main thing on his mind.

- like, tell this man that you did something so minor like stubbed your toe, and he’s carrying you around, forcing you bedridden so he can take care of you.

- well, maybe not to that extent but you get it. you’re the most important thing to him.

- so it’s no surprise that translates to sex as well.

- he only cares about your pleasure, and how you’re feeling.

- before you had sex, he was a nervous mess.

- he wanted it to be perfect :,)

- he didn’t wanna plan it ahead, just kinda hoped it’d all come naturally but surprise he spent the entirety of the day thinking about it.

- it was just supposed to be a fancy dinner date, yet he managed to find you underneath him in his neatly made bed, lips already swollen from his doing.

- “have i told you you’re the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen?” it’s corny, cheesy, but oh-so true.

- his fingertips feeling your thighs up your dress, burning into your skin.

- like i said, he’s been thinking about how this night would play out for days. he wants it to be perfect.

- what other way for it to be perfect then him going down on you?

- i’m just saying, harvey on his knees, wide, soft eyes looking up and you while his lips press against your thighs and his cheek rests against your knee.

- his fingers reaching up to slide underneath the waistband of your underwear, doing nothing but tug slightly.

- 😇

- “may i? please?” he nearly whispers.

- and the moment you nod, his lips turn into a soft smile like he’s been waiting forever for that simple gesture.

- he wants you to watch him comfortably, so he props a couple pillows against the headboard so you can look at him.

- loves when you get flustered and tries to hide your face.

- he pays so much attention to your clit. knows how stimulating it is, and especially when he sucks it just right and your hips twitch a little.

- deffffffinitely moans into your pussy 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

- & ruts against the bed lollllll

- uses his fingers too. he’s so slow, and careful, all the while his movements still make your head spin.

- “please don’t stop, ‘m so close,” you whine, eyebrows pinching, and you hardly even realize your fingers that ravel and tug on his soft brown hair.

- he’s shaking his head, as in a silent way to tell you “fuck, i’ll never stop,” as long as he can hear you moan like that longer.

- he’s SOOO EAGER.

- wraps one of his hands around yours while the other lightly presses into your stomach to keep you still.

- doesn’t even care that u nearly suffocate him when your thighs wrap around his head—if anything, he’s in heaven.

- can’t take his eyes off of u. he might just die from the sight of you alone.

- he has to catch his breath when you finally collapse, head lulling to the side.

- he’s literally so hard it hurts.

- pressing into your thigh when he comes up to kiss you make out with you.

- “y’taste so good, don’t you think? so sweet, can’t get enough.” “you’ll let me get some more, right? please? want you, need you so bad.”

sam.

- he’s blunt.

- just straight up.

- he’ll nonchalantly tell you if you have something in your teeth, and then pick it out for you.

- he’s the type to give you genuine input if you tried on a new outfit.

- like, “that looks amazing on you. turn around?” or “hm, it’d look better if it didn’t bunch up like that in the front.”

- zero shame. you know he’s not doing it to be rude, that’s just how he is.

- so, if he’s just lounging around at your house while you work, occasionally popping up to help you with easier tasks, expect him to be his same old self.

- and maybe even take you by surprise.

- you walk in during the evening, ready to change from your clothes and bathe after a long day.

- “hi baby,” he’s already smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and his hands wrapping around your waist.

- he doesn’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way your eyes were slightly lowered from tiredness, or the subtle earthy scent wafting off your body—but it made him much more excited to have you in his arms.

- “you always look so pretty when you finish work.” he sighs, his kisses pressing down the other side of your neck.

- “i do? please,” you snort, shaking your head to dismiss him like you always do.

- but this time, he wanted you to know for a fact just how gorgeous you are.

- “why do you never believe me when i compliment you?” he pouts, leaning to bury his face in your neck.

- it’s the way his soft gaze has your heart thumping a little quicker, and the slight tilt to his head makes your throat threaten to close.

- his lips wrap around yours before you can protest his comment, leaning into you to slightly dip your back over your bed until he’s dropping you both along the mattress carefully.

- “can i show you just how pretty you are? will you let me?”

- he can spend hours kissing you all over. if you have freckles or moles all around your skin, i can assure you he’s kissed every single one.

- i’d like to think that, despite him not being super experienced, he’s still a very loving guy.

- he doesn’t overthink, he’s very carefree, so if he wants to eat you out, he’s going to. obviously with your consent ofc.

- he may not be the best at it, but he does know a lot about you, and since he spends a lot of time with you, it’s easy to see what you like and what you don’t.

- he thinks ur cunt is so pretty. probably embarrasses you on accident by just staring at it LMFAOO

- he’s so gentle when he starts. pressing his hands into your inner thighs to keep them spread, and his tongue is the first to touch you.

- fingers your clit so he can really delve between your folds.

- “taste s’good,” he’ll moan into your cunt.

- btw he’s moaning just as much as you are, he can’t get enough.

- tell him what to do. he likes when you whisper, “just…keep doing that for a second,” or “wait move your hand ba—fuck, right there.”

- it makes him feel so good when he’s doing it right.

- another man who’ll rut against the bed, and may i be so bold as to say he might even cum just from eating you out?

- yes. yes i may.

- he’s so obedient too. i don’t think he has it in him to ever edge you, because he finds that he just can’t stop.

- will overstimulate you more then anything.

- when you cum, he’ll probably be panting just as much as you are. his breath against ur dripping cunt, making to shudder while you catch your own.

- cups your cheek to kiss you again, completely ignoring the fact that your slick is all over his lips.

- he’s in love.

- “thank you for being my girlfriend.” GNNNNN.

shane.

- tbh, y’all probably had sex before u even started dating.

- more then once, at that.

- some of which you were both tipsy after a friday night, coming back to your farm to fuck him in every room of your house.

- you guys were definitely fuckbuddies at first.

- he went down on you a few times during these stages.

- but, as a guy who was a little drunk, horny, and honestly just wanted to get his dick wet—it wasn’t the best he could do. just enough to warm you up.

- he was completely fine with your situation, until he started to realize he was actually falling for you.

- that he wanted to see you outside of just hooking up. he liked when you’d stop by on his way to work, talk to him for a minute. he’d actually look forward to it.

- so when he ended up on your couch again, arms laced and kiss marks already littering your neck, he knew he was going to make this time different.

- your dress rode up just under your bra, his lips sucking your skin down your stomach while you propped yourself against the armrest of the couch.

- he was quick to loop his fingers underneath your panties, tugging them down your legs.

- “someone’s eager,” you tease, having no clue that you’re absolutely right.

- he’s almost desperate. like he has to show you he’s better then what he’s done in the past.

- his arms latch onto your hips, teeth gently biting down on your inner thigh to hear you let out a brief squeal.

- “stay still f’me, okay?” he asks, his breath hitting against your cunt that makes your stomach flutter.

- it’s the way he delves between your thighs that has you stuttering a gasp, instantly ignoring his one request so he has to use minimal strength to force your hips still and thighs apart.

- his lips sucking onto your puffy clit, causing your stomach to clench and immediately squirm under his hold.

- you’re looking down at him like you’re baffled behind pinched eyebrows and jaw wide—which is exactly what he wanted.

- so much so, he can’t even hide his smirk as his tongue slides between your folds to taste you properly.

- “o-oh, fuck me,” you breathe, head hanging back.

- you’re squirming so much, and he’s not having it.

- “can’t you listen to me?” he almost groans, hardly pulling away for his words to become intelligible so the vibration against your clit has you arching your back.

- he’s so messy, uncaring about the slick that’s staining his cheeks and chin.

- loves when you hide your face, mainly because it makes his confidence boost, but he’ll fs call u out.

- “nuh-uh baby, eyes on me.”

- he’ll gently nip at your clit if you look away.

- and he’s teasing you so much, you can feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes.

- he’ll edge you just so he can start all over, and then overstimulate you so you’ll never forget it.

- will literally leave you breathless, collapsed on your bed after cumming for what felt like hours.

- and he has the AUDACITY to ask, “what? that’s all you got? c’mon, you can give me one more…right?”

sebastian.

- spreading the inexperienced sebastian agenda one post at a time.

- he’s never gone down on anyone before. so genuinely, he has no idea what he’s doing.

- well, okay that’s a lie. he’s not an idiot.

- he knows how stimulating a woman’s clit is, and he knows where it is more importantly.

- but he’s never exactly had one directly in front of his face.

- he’s only ever seen pussy eating in porn, and that’s not the most reliable source. so he’s kind of just depending on you to help him out.

- don’t be shy, either. he wants to learn. he wants to make you feel good.

- his goal: to make you pass out, tbh.

- but baby steps first.

- you’ve already had sex many times before he even proposed the idea of going down on you.

- he’s fingered you before, but even then that’s still new.

- needless to say, you were taken off guard when he asks, “can i go down on you?” after a lazy evening.

- you’re both doing your own thing, with him on his computer and you cleaning some freshly harvested vegetables in the sink.

- “excuse me?” you laugh.

- until you realize he’s not kidding.

- “i wanna learn.” is all he says, before you’re grabbing his hand and guiding him to your bedroom.

- he’s gotten good at knowing how to kiss you, that enough has you warmed up pretty well. you didn’t even have to tell him to kiss his way down your neck, to your stomach before he’s spreading your thighs in front of him.

- he wants to start by fingering you, because he knows how to do that, plus he kinda wants to approach it confidently.

- like i once said. long, thin fingers. he also plays the keyboard…he’s skilled w his hands.

- rests his cheek on your thigh, watching the way his fingers disappear in and out of your wet cunt, and the occasional gasp you let out.

- “what do you want me to do?” almost breathless when he asks.

- when he feels bold enough, he subtly flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, keeping his fingers moving inside of you while his eyes glance up.

- just the way your stomach clenched from that one simple action has him eager.

- wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

- “s-shit, yeah, like that,” you weakly praise behind multiple stutters and pants.

- he can’t get enough of how your cunt squeezes around his fingers the more he does something your body appropriately reacts to.

- which he loves. it’s like you’re subconsciously telling him he’s doing so well.

- he never realized how much he loves when you tug on his hair until now, mainly because you unknowingly press him against your cunt so he has nothing better then to just lick.

- he doesn’t take his fingers out of you, but he does move them a little so he can finally get a taste of the entirety of you.

- whines.

- he’s practically drunk.

- wishes he wasn’t so nervous to do this beforehand, because fuck you feel so good on his tongue.

- “the prettiest pussy, tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles.

- you probably didn’t even hear him bc he made no effort to pull away.

- stuffs his fingers inside of you, curls them right when you’re about to cum.

- and when you do, he feels on top of the world.

- he’s never seen your body shake like that.

- and now he doesn’t wanna stop.

alex.

- omfffffg.

- he’s a sweetheart, through and through.

- so doting and adoring the longer you get to know him and be with him.

- it’s rare you’ll wake up to make breakfast, or make dinner without his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head.

- and he’s a little clingy, but that’s just because he loves you so much.

- ur first time having sex w him was early in ur relationship. probably the same day you made it official i’m ngl.

- but he likely didn’t go down on you until a few times after.

- not because he didn’t want to, but lowkey giving or receiving head isn’t his favorite part of sex. as a man w a lot of stamina, he’s fucking you to fuck you. not just eat you out.

- which is why you were a little shocked when you felt his kisses move down your torso, his hands gliding against the sides of your waist as he moves down.

- he also wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you still,

- mainly to show off his muscles.

- oh yeah, he’s not wearing a shirt btw. he never does.

- kinda laughs when you express your nervousness about him going down on you.

- “relax, pretty. just trust me. i’ll stop if you want me to.”

- kisses your thighs, and once he finally takes off ur underwear he’s suchhh a tease.

- like, to the point where you’re dripping, impatiently rocking your hips into him.

- “what happened, baby? not scared anymore? what’s the matter, hmm?” “all needy and i haven’t even done anything, hah.”

- i hate him (affectionately.)

- once he finally touches you where you need him, he’s so fucking slow.

- eyes on you the whole time, his little snarky smirk on his face watching you nibble onto the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

- he waits a minute before he fingers you while licking your clit.

- he feels so fucking good when you give up on staying quiet, letting your back arch and nearly scream out a moan.

- he’s so quick with it, his nice, thick fingers knowing just where to curl inside of you.

- “cum for me, c’mon, know you can do it.” he pulls away to speak.

- he needs to watch you entirely when you cum, so he replaces his lips with his thumb while he rubs your clit and fingers you until you’re sobbing.

- “i know baby, i know. just let it out.”

- he doesn’t stop just yet, but he’ll slow down until you nearly force him away from overstimulation.

- makes u lick his fingers loooolllllll.

- and he’ll make out with you so hard while you’re still trying to catch your breath.

- side note, i feel like he enjoys putting you in lots of different positions. if you weren’t flexible before alex, then u sure as hell are now.

- …probably ate u out once with u sitting on his shoulders against the wall. i’m sayin.

elliot.

- alright now.

- do i even have to say it?

- HE’S A MUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!

- if u don’t think he’s eating u out the very first time u have sex then ur just lying to urself. there’s no way he’d miss this step.

- if you don’t want him to, that’s a different story. he wouldn’t even dream of pressuring you.

- but if you do…u better believe.

- he’s so gentle and sweet, first of all.

- holding your cheek, cupping your jaw while your lips move so graciously against one another’s.

- he’s absolutely kissing his way down, but he’s taking his time, letting you squirm underneath him.

- “you’re just so perfect darling, look so beautiful.”

- kisses ur clit <3

- he’s so slow and gentle, licking you softly and listening to your quiet gasps.

- he swoons when he can hear your breath hitch the moment he starts to pick up his movements.

- he’ll position your thighs on his shoulders and laces your fingers together.

- he’s super responsive. loves when you praise him / tell him you like what he’s doing.

- especially when you feel so good you can’t really speak, so you end up roping your fingers through his hair and tugging it into a loose bun.

- that’s enough to drive him crazy.

- “nngh, c-can’t, s’too much,” you whine, back arches and eyes squeezed shut.

- but your words mean nothing in contrast to the way your hands press against the back of his head, keeping his close.

- he doesn’t even need to use his fingers to make you cum. his tongue is so skilled.

- sucking ur clit like a pacifier 🫡

- he’s also very vocal. he usually coaxes you through sex using his words, but since he can’t while he’s eating u out, he’s just left to moaning uncontrollably.

- and he can’t get over the vibrations making your body shudder every time.

- he gets so excited when you’re close to cumming.

- how you just kind of go silent, jaw locked in aisle nt scream with an occasional whimper pushing through.

- and how you immediately exhale the moment you finish, body nearly collapsing.

- he’s not stopping lol.

- wants you literally shaking, your overstimulation short circuiting your brain so you just fall weak.

- “i’m so proud of you, my love. did so good for me, tastes so good. think you can do it again?”

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that-sarcastic-writer · 6 months

Text

A Good Father

Dad!Dean Winchester X Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Dean has a beautiful wife and the cutest little girl. The perfect family. Maybe it's time to have a real home, too.

Part 2 of A Good Man but can be read as a standalone. This is actually how supernatural ended thank you very much

Warnings: not much, candy cane fluff, foul language. Still minors dni cause I don't want minor on my blog

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Why not post it right? I love Dean with all my heart. That's nothing new. Enjoy the teeth rooting fluff cause I don't have the mental capacity to write smut rn :,)

Sleep still covered your eyes as you rubbed them softly. It couldn't have been later than six a.m., or at least what you saw through half-closed eyes on your phone screen when you woke up. You weren't fully sure, you were still processing that you were awake. You hadn't entirely wanted to get out of bed, but the lack of your husband's warmth all but forced you out of the comfort of your covers. Your feet took you to the study first. That's normally where you would find the brothers anyway. But you only saw Sam.

"Morning." You mumbled softly, running a hand over your face as you walked over to the younger Winchester.

Sam lifted his eyes from the ancient looking book in front of him, and he gave you a warm smile.

"Oh, hey, good morning."

You stood beside him, leaning a hand on the table as you looked around for Dean with a small frown.

"Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen with Rosie. She woke up like an hour ago, so he's making her breakfast." He answered with a smile.

Your own lips irked up in pleasant surprise. Normally, Rosalie— yours and Dean's little girl— would come running to wake you— or both you and Dean, depending who was home at the time. You never minded that she would be up before you since Sam was always up before sunrise, and he loved spending time with his niece. But it did surprise you a bit that Dean didn't wake you at all this morning. Though, you were more so in awe at the fact that he had decided to take care of her that morning by himself.

Truth was, he had been gone a while, almost a week. That had been the longest he had spent on a hunt ever since she was born— five years ago. And your little girl was definitely missing her dad. She loved you, no doubt about it, but the little one was a daddy's girl for sure, but you blamed Dean for spoiling her so much. So she was feeling his absence greatly. She cried almost every night, asking why daddy wasn't there to tuck her in. It broke your heart a hundred times over to see her so heartbroken. When Dean came home last night, she all but clung to him, refusing to leave his side. And you guessed that had carried over to this morning.

"Thanks, Sam." You patted his shoulder and padded through the long halls of the bunker to the kitchen. You held in your breath as you peaked your head through the door and you nearly teared up at the sight.

"You think mommy and Sammy will like these?" Dean pursed his lips, nudging at the tiny human resting on his hip as three different pans with pancake batter, sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs cooked on the stove.

"Uh-huh. It looks yummy." She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he held her.

"Yeah, sure does." Dean shrugged, lips pulled into a proud grin at his own work. He always was a great cook.

He stood for a second, keeping an eye on one thing as he moved around another with a spatula and still somehow held a five year-old on his hip. He had his attention somewhere else, so he almost missed the tiny voice in his ear.

"I missed you, daddy." Rosie mumbled, her soft voice almost inaudible against him. Dean looked down at her, his eyes slightly big and his lips parted. He stared at her for a long second before he said anything. He was wondering just what the fuck he ever did to deserve something like this.

"I… I missed you too, baby. Always." He sighed out, his chest aching with an indescriptible feeling as he brushed some loose strands behind her ear, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

You were silent for a long minute, lips slightly parted and eyes filled with awe as you leaned against the doorframe to watch the sight in front of you. Dean, still in his pajamas, with his little girl on his hip as he cooked. He was saying something to her, or so you figured since you heard her giggles, her tiny hands bunched around his t-shirt as she buried her face in his shoulder. He was smiling too.

"I'm deeply hurt. Making breakfast without me?" You spoke up, feigning hurt.

Dean turned around, he smiled at you at first but when Rosie started giggling at you, hiding deeper into his chest, he gritted his teeth.

"Ah, busted. Told you mommy would find out." He shook his head, holding back a smile as you approached them.

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He gave you a shrug with a toothy smile that showed the edges of his canines, and he gave you that innocent puppy dog look. You groaned out.

"We'll talk later." You warned, but your tone was playful. You finally slipped a smile as you stood on the tip of your toes to give Dean a kiss on the lips. He happily leaned down to meet you halfway. And then you kissed your little girl, leaving kisses all over her tiny face.

She giggled, nearly jumping out of her dad's arms into yours. Dean happily passed her over to you, his hip starting to get numb. You held her happily, pressing a kiss to the mess of her bedhead. God, the more this one grew, the more she looked like Dean. The same green eyes, the same freckled cheeks. But she had your nose, and her hair was a shade darker than Dean's, closer to Sam's brown. But you knew that she would be the spitting image of her dad when she grew older.

"Did you help daddy make breakfast?" You asked Rosie, and she nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! I helps daddy make pancakes." You gasped, lips parted to share her excitement.

"Those are gonna be the yummiest of pancakes, right sweetheart?" Dean leaned down, nudging her cheek with his finger. She nodded.

"Alright, little one, go sit with Sammy, we'll bring you out some pancakes, okay?" You told the little girl, and she nodded again, mumbling an 'okay'. You smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you set her down her tiny feet. She had spent her whole short life in this bunker. You were sure she could find her way around the general area.

"Tell Sammy he's a nerd for me." Dean called out to Rosie as she ran off, chanting that her uncle Sammy was a nerd. Dean was smiling proudly to himself. He was raising her right.

"You're an ass." You playfully scolded him, and he gave you a look of feign innocence. He shrugged at you.

"I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?" He irked his lips at you, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled you close. God he had missed you so fucking much.

"Missed you, too, hun." You leaned up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He tried to hide it, muffle the sound, but he winced when your hand touched his cheek.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you immediately pulled back to look at his face. You hadn't noticed the red bruise on his cheek, on the purple bruising around his eye. You gasped quietly, gently brushing the tip of your fingers over the bruised skin. He scrunched up his face at you, about to pull back, but you shot him a sharp look.

"I'm fine, baby. Just some bruises. You shoulda seen the other guy." He grinned, trying to humor you, but the concern didn't leave your face.

"I don't want to, actually." You sighed softly, your eyes falling to his chest, avoiding his eyes.

You wouldn't say it to his face, not actually. How could you? He never lied to you, from the moment he wanted something real with you he told you the truth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with him. Sammy and hunting come with the package— he told you. And you accepted it. All of it. You married him anyway. You gave him a daughter anyway. But God, it terrified you beyond words that he was still hunting. That he still left you and your little girl for days at a time. And that he would come home with new scars and bruises that would last days. But at times— like this one— you feared that neither of them would come home at all.

"Sweetheart…" There was a bit of warning in his voice. He could read you so easily. He grabbed your face, forcing your head up to look at him now. "What is it?"

"You worry me, Dean. Look at your face. I don't even want to know how it looks under your shirt." Your eyes fell to the side, and your chest filled with ache as you tried to say the right words. "I'm sorry, I know I have no right to guilt trip you. But your daughter missed you, I missed you, and we need you, Dean, that's all."

Dean said nothing at this, his face stayed unreadable as he listened to you. And he heard you, he heard you loud and clear. He felt pressure on his chest and a sick feeling to his stomach. Fuck, he had grown soft.

"C'mere." He pulled you to his chest. He rested his hand on your hair, and he sighed softly when you threw your arms around his torso. "You know I love you, and Rosie, so much, right?"

You nodded against his chest. "I know babe, I love you, too."

We need you, Dean.

"Daddy! I told uncle Sammy he's a— a nerd!" Rosie announced loudly when she saw you and Dean again. And you had to hide your smile at the pointed look Sam shot his older brother.

Dean played dumb, his lips falling open, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm telling ya, Sammy, I dunno where she learns it from."

"Yeah, great parenting dude." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, and he could only snort in response.

"Yeah, well, here's my apology." Dean shrugged, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Sam with a shit eating smile. Sam pretended to be offended, but he ate the plate in front of him without protesting.

"Alright, Rosie, you wanna eat some pancakes before school?" You set the plate with the smaller portion of pancakes and bacon in front of her and she nodded happily.

"Yes, please!" She excitedly grabbed a fork and dug in, but stopped a second later and looked at Dean. "Daddy can I has syrup?"

"Sure, baby." He practically saturated her plate with syrup and then his own. You shook your head at how alike they were already. You shared a knowing look with Sam and sighed softly, eating from your own plate.

You didn't often have the chance to have breakfast as a family, so you always treasured little moments like this when you had them. And deep in your heart, you wished you had moments like this more.

~~~~~~

"Sweetheart, you in here?" Dean peeked his head into your shared bedroom, his eyes darting around for a few seconds, and then his lips curved up at the sight of you on your shared bed, face deep in your laptop.

"Hi love," You smiled at him, setting your laptop aside to greet him. He happily joined your side, his lips pressing a kiss to yours instantly. "You left Rosie at school, right?"

Your words were stern as was the look you gave him. He pulled back and pouted. You were definitely scolding him for the time he decided to take Rosalie on a drive with Baby just because she asked instead of dropping her off at school.

"'Course I did. No rides in Baby this time, I promise." He smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Hope so." He saw you reach for your laptop again so he decided to speak again.

Dean thought about it. He thought about it all morning. He drove around town for another hour just to get his thoughts straight.

"Listen, I was thinkin' 'bout what you said this morning.."

You shook your head at him, "I'm sorry, Dean, I know I shouldn't have. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

"Hey, no, don't do that. Let's not forget about it." You frowned at him, but you didn't respond, so he kept talking. "You're right. I know you are. Hell, I got thrown around so hard, I don't know how I got outta bed this morning. I thought about you, thought about Rosie. Thought about my old man, too."

You frowned softly, resting your hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading through the short hair gently, "Dean.."

"I don't want to be like my old man. I don't want to leave you and Rosie alone anymore, I just can't."

You straightened up, a bit unsure where he was getting at.

"Dean, baby, what are you trying to say?"

"You and Rosie deserve a normal life, a house, all of that shit." Dean breathed out the words, and he held your face in his hands, a tiny smile on his lips. "I want to try it. A normal life. Don't you?"

"I… Dean.." You sighed out softly, attempting to process his words. You stared at him long and hard, and all you saw was love, his green eyes were sincere. "I wouldn't force you to give up hunting. I mean, that's all you've known? And what about Sam? I just—"

"That's exactly it. I'm… I'm so goddamn tired of the life. Don't get me wrong, we save people, hell, we've saved the world, but is that really all worth it if I can't come home to my wife and daughter?" He tilted his head, his free hand was on your thigh, and he squeezed softly. "And Sammy, I know he's tired of it too. He's always wanted a normal life. But he stayed because of me. If I get out, I know he'll do it, too. He's done it before. Who knows, maybe he can find his own pretty girl to marry and have a couple of kids with."

For the longest time, Dean had refused to even consider doing anything else with his life, doing anything better. This was all he had ever known, all he was ever actually good at, right? But lately, God, just lately, he was seeing that light at the end of the tunnel. You and Rosalie were right there. And if you were there with him, the rest of the world could go to hell for all he cared.

"Dean, I love you, I loved you then, hunter and all, and I will love you no matter what. But if you want to settle down.." You breathed out a soft laugh, the words sounding so nice when you said them out loud. You leaned closer to him, a smile on your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. "We'll settle down. A house, normal jobs, play dates, all of it."

"Christ, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" He smiled wide, and he pressed a hard kiss to your lips. It was warm, loving.

"Mhmm, so, what would a former hunter do for a living?"

"I'm pretty good with cars aren't I? What do you say? Think I should open my own car shop?"

Your husband as a mechanic? That wouldn't be half bad.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural

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elithemiar-blog · 2 years

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Danny gets invited into a robotics/mechanics club after he mumbled out the basic idea of his parent's latest invention just by looking at it, the name did help.

He doesn't have much of a choice to recognize what an invention can do based off of its look for his safety.

So mechanics and engineering he just starts picking up from his parents through association.

At some point, he has to modify one because it hurts both humans and ghosts.

His parents are so caught up on the fact that it hurts ghosts as intended that they completely miss that it hurts humans too, severely.

Danny, and Tucker when needed, start modifying the weapons for people's safety. Which Danny gets really good at and starts taking his parent's blueprints and building safer, and mostly better, inventions.

So, when this new classmate overhears the trio discussing on how to fix it. They think Danny would be a great addition to the club, and when they bring it up at their next meeting, everyone else either doesn't believe them or is joking.

Due to gossip and high school hierarchy (by Casper standards), Danny is a freak, loser, and stupid.

This classmate brings Danny's intelligence to himself and tries to urge this kid to come to the club one day after school.

Danny downgrades his own intelligence on engineering that the classmate is befuddled, until being at Casper for longer they understand on why this is.

A school event has this classmate trying to strike high praise on Danny, but even his parents kind of bat him aside to talk about ghosts.

People start gossiping that this classmate has a crush on Danny.

Eventually, they do get Danny to a club and the rest of the members kind of call him out on his crush, in front of Danny. However, he does prove himself and the club agrees to invite him to some kind of multi-school engineering showcase, and they do need one other person to make a full team.

He really doesn’t want to go. Somehow his parents are pushing him to go. At some point, somehow, he's being required to go.

Maybe Tucker and Sam urge him to go, who already noticed Danny's talent. He still doesn't want to leave Amity, but with his friends pushing him to have fun he's more willing to think about it.

Maybe the trip becomes a 50/50 extra credit opportunity on his math and science grades, which he needs.

Marvel: Tony, Peter, and/or Banner are at this event to find future employees or award scholarships.

DC: Bruce and/or Tim are at this event (maybe another as well), to also find future employees or award scholarships.

Maybe there's some kind of lead revealed during this event that helps a case.

They find Danny being isolated by the club except for the classmate and they're curious on why.

The classmate is giving high praises, gifting information that Danny doesn't want revealed, to these people who will actually listen.

This team gets challenged to build something different.

The classmate turns to Danny to help out and he gets invited by the rest, but he doesn't get a say...

Danny sees something wrong and tries to say something, but no one let's him get a word in..

When the build gets judged, it doesn't work. Danny with random parts in hand, fixes it on the spot adding a little touch that makes it work and then some.

He gets high compliments from these very smart people, but he brushes them aside. Not realizing what he did, he'd just really wants to get back to Amity.

While the event is still going on, he gets pulled aside to look over a project or design and he can tell what needs fixed or how to reroute power better (purposeful mistakes meant to challenge him).

Here he is, at an event for school, being given complements and not really noticing.

These people very curious on who this kid is goes searching. Maybe the club kids tell the not-paying-attention-club-advisor that he did nothing.

Maybe the one doing the complimenting calls the school and, petty tattles on the club, gives full praise and offers a scholarship.

Someone can be so focused on either working on what they want to do or what they have to do (in Danny's case), that talent found isn't recognized even if highly complimented by an expert.

The mental image of Tim inviting Danny to the manor to help out with a WE project, and Tim is trying to get him to recognize his own talent. Bonus points if its vigilante associated (like Nightwing's eskrima sticks malfunctioning and sleep deprived Tim can't figure it out). Bonus points if the rest of the family are there over seeing.

Maybe he can't be an astronaut anymore cause he doesn’t fit certain requirements. Maybe he can still work for NASA despite his grades, he fixes a missed problem that would've made the rocket launch unsuccessful, and it was a last-minute change.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny downplaying his intelligence #environmental conditioning that he's not as smart as the rest of the family #he's far too caught up on protecting amity #and his love of astronomy #to notice his talent with engineering #tucker gets involved specifically to lower the strength of the ectosignature tracking #Shout out to the entire four years working on one goal and not exploring the creativity that is my mind #My family and I have no knowledge of where it comes from still #Weapon designs people still want made #Stories that people are telling me to finish and publish #Four years of regret that's still being worked on #dp x marvel

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randomshyperson · 9 months

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Enchanted - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The new Avengers welcome party takes an unexpected turn. Wanda is delighted and tries to make a friend. | Based on “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: mutual pining, really fluffy, emo wanda being a shy mess with a crush, they are both teenagers in this btw, hints of social anxiety. | Words: 4.913k

A/N-> Yes, I’m writing about worthy!Reader again, sue me. It has a certain resemblance to an abandoned one that I posted here a while ago, but this time they are strangers to friends. This is also totally influenced by the new version of this song.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

The party setting was not one that Wanda would choose as a favorite, and frankly, she had little desire to be there.

But Steve and Natasha insisted she joins, after all, there were reasons to celebrate besides the almost obligatory socializing and marketing for Earth's most famous team of heroes; their latest villain, Ultron, had been successfully exterminated. And in addition to the conflicts, there were new members on the team. Given the circumstances, and the recent destruction of her home country, neither reason would be enough to get her out of her room, but it was Natasha who convinced her to celebrate what truly mattered: Pietro was alive.

Somehow, the twin managed to make the broken leg an extra charm to his character, and the crouched figure dressed in an expensive suit courtesy of Stark Industries - an image that would make the teenage version of Pietro Maximoff have a fit of outrage - turned into the soul of the party. Unlike her brother who seemed overjoyed by the spotlight, Wanda hurried to find a corner as soon as she entered the tower hall packed with guests, her heart racing for every glance and flash of photographers interested in the newest Avengers.

The evening wore on with polite celebrations and a battle of egos conversations; it all seemed very political to Wanda, but not in the same way as it had on her rebellious afternoons in Sokovia, with all the ink and posters and protests, and more about fake smiles and passive-aggressive accusations, people in suits reminding themselves of the cost of the Avengers' existence, and an almost drunken Tony Stark bragging that money was no problem.

It was exhausting in its entirety, but Wanda managed to find a decent and entertaining distraction which was watching Pietro and Sam bicker for the attention of the guests. At the same time, Natasha kept her company at the bar.

The widow's voice calling her attention made her take her eyes from her twin supported on crutches to her newest teammate. Wanda was still a bit uneasy around Natasha - Her own guilt about the confrontation in which she invaded the other's memories, in addition to the moment of being scolded for a borrowed jacket made her feel embarrassed, even though Natasha had been very kind around her since then and had even been the person to lend her the red dress she wore tonight.

"You were tense all night, Maximoff." Commented Natasha not teasing her, but as a friendly remark that made Wanda sigh. The redhead glanced at Pietro before turning her attention back to the younger girl, her gaze softer. "It was just a scare, Wanda. He'll recover, and before you can miss him, your brother will be causing trouble again."

The joke drew a smile from her, weak but still true. Wanda tried to take Natasha's words to heart, hoping that the reaffirmation would push away all the nightmares she'd had with the memories of her brother bleeding in a destroyed Sokovia, dreams created by her fears that her brother's masked savior wouldn't have arrived in time.

Natasha cursed suddenly, and Wanda stared at her curiously, only to discover the widow staring at something behind them, at the entrance to a party that was emptying as the night wore on.

“"What the hell is this little shit doing here?" Grumbled the widow and Wanda frowned, surprised that although it was a swear word, the anger didn't carry over into Natasha's gaze. She looked more worried than anything else.

Looking back, Wanda saw a singular figure. The band T-shirt, even if hidden under a pallet, brought a faded, confident tone to the figure who greeted with polite smiles and made their way to the bar with such familiarity that Wanda immediately understood that whoever the person was, they had been to the Tower many times before.

But Natasha came out from behind the bar at a hard step and met you halfway, close enough for Wanda to see how Nat grabbed your wrist and hear the words whispered in a scolding tone.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

Your posture was not intimidated one bit - You freed yourself from the tug effortlessly, smiling and adjusting your jacket.

"I was invited, of course."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, assessing your response during the seconds you looked around, smiling and waving to a few people. "I'm going to kill Tony."

You sighed impatiently. "Come on, Mom, it's just a party-"

The term made Wanda's eyes widen, almost unable to resist the urge to raise her head and fully expose her spying on the conversation. Natasha didn't let you finish, walking off at a harsh pace toward the iron man on the other side of the room.

With a roll of your eyes, you ignored that and made your way to the bar.

Wanda noticed a few things quickly as you reached out beside her to grab a bottle of booze from behind the counter. The first was that you were certainly not the legal American age to be drinking and this explained the checking glances you threw around before stealing the drink, and the second was that your complicit smile toward her made her heart forget how to beat properly.

"Sorry about that, Natasha is quite the doting type of mom." That was the first thing you said to her, as you moved close enough for Wanda to swallow dryly at the intrusion of your perfume into her senses, intoxicatingly attractive. You smiled again, propping your elbow on the counter beside you to extend your hand to her. "I am Y/N, by the way. And you're Wanda Maximoff, right?"

Jesus, keep it together. She thought, feeling her face heat up at the attention.

If Pietro saw the disaster, he would be laughing at her face, and knowing that her brother was just a few feet away ready to mock her, made Wanda suddenly gain a little confidence.

She confirmed who she was and as she shook your hand, she added, "I didn't know Natasha had any children."

You chuckled relaxedly. "It's complicated." You replied, releasing her hand to grab the beer bottle you left resting on the bar. "She's not my birth mother, I'm more like a souvenir"

Wanda frowned at your rather vague answer, ready to inquire when before you could take a sip of your drink, someone took it from you from behind your shoulder - It was Clint Barton, also wearing a suit and with a smug expression of repression.

"I'll take this." He chuckled, ignoring your sigh of protest and approaching to greet Wanda quickly before turning his attention back to you. "And may I ask what you're doing here, kiddo?"

You snorted impatiently, putting your hands in your pockets. "What do people do at parties, Barton?" You returned naughtily, but Clint grinned, shaking his head.

"You know Natasha is going to give you a hard time for this... in addiction to drinking-"

"What drinking? You didn't even let me taste it." You interrupt grumpily and roll your eyes when to further irritate you, Clint takes a long gulp. With a sigh, you lift your chin toward Wanda. "I'm just getting to know the new Avengers, it's not a crime to make friends." You commented, offering Wanda a wink that made her swallow dryly.

Great, of all the people she could meet in a new country, she was going to have a crush on the Black Widow's daughter. Her luck always improving.

"Kiddo, you know the rules-" Clint tried to reason, but you huffed impatiently again.

"God, you guys are such hypocrites!" Despite the clear irritation, your tone remained controlled. "The Maximoffs are what, months older than me? Yeah, Barton, I read Fury's files. Honestly, this is ridiculous! Stark is also trying to recruit that fourteen-year-old vigilante, but suddenly if I want to join the team it's the most dangerous thing in the world! I only came for the party, but I'd be happy to get a thank you for the last mess you put yourselves in! I don't know, like a "thanks Y/N for saving my life" instead of a "you're too young to be here", Uncle." Your venting made the man lower his head, sighing in agreement.

The archer tried to call you over to ease things, but you had already left the scene, annoyance stamped on your expression. With another sigh, this time in defeat, Clint returned the bottle to the bar and touched Wanda gently on the elbow.

"It wasn't the best way to meet her, but I hope you don't get a bad impression." He tried to joke, but Wanda only needed five seconds to reflect on your words to understand exactly who you were.

"Clint, she's helped us in Sokovia, didn’t she?" Inquired the girl with a certain desperation. "She’s the one that saved Pietro?"

Barton smiled proudly. " Yeah, that's her." He confirmed to which Wanda sighed softly. So many days wondering how she could find and thank the mysterious person who ensured her brother's safety and the closest thing to a father figure she had at the moment, only to have you stand in front of her and get tongue-tied.

You disappeared in the midst of so many guests, and Wanda gave up searching with her gaze when Clint called her back to get her attention.

"You'll have time to say thanks." He commented realizing the whole thing and smiling softly. "If Y/N gets what she's been pushing at for years, you two should be roommates. And well, whenever she's not at school, she's around."

Wanda absorbed the words attentively, feeling her curiosity rise. "Oh, really? And how old is she again?"

"She wasn't exaggerating, Maximoff, she really is only a few months younger than you and your brother." Clint replied casually. Although he was looking around, old habits of an agent, he seemed willing to talk to Wanda. "The only reason she's not the youngest Avenger is because Natasha doesn't want her to be on the team."

The information makes Wanda frown. "Why is that?"

Clint smiles, shrugging. "Safety, of course." He gently rebuts. "Aliens and bio-nuclear warfare isn't exactly the right place for a teenager."

"Still here I am.'" Wanda retorted without sounding really annoyed. Clint hesitated before sighing.

"It's different, Wanda."

"Of course, Clint." She retorted with a fresh bitterness on the edge of her stomach. "She matters."

Barton grimaced, moving a little closer and staring her in the eye. "Don't jump to conclusions without knowing the full story." He began. "These are different situations. You and Pietro are enhanced young people without a country to go back to. And of course your safety matters to me. But we've had this conversation before, Maximoff. When you faced that army, you chose to be an Avenger, even though you can resign from this position whenever you want, you are a very strong girl who I would trust on a battlefield. But Y/N is 17 years old and the most action she's seen in her life was at the drive-in of The Future Terminator ." Clint commented but Wanda looked away, catching your figure again, this time greeting Pietro who recognized you far more easily than she did. The hug he gave you made her look at Clint seriously.

"I think you give her little credence." She retorted, impressed with her confidence in defending someone she didn't even know. "She made a difference in the last fight."

Clint laughed dryly. "She's already won you over, hasn't she? She's a born talent." He teased, smiling at the pink tint to her cheeks. "And speaking of talent, I have to admit, that kid has plenty of it. Natasha trained her of course, but never let her go into real action. And well, she's always been very observant. Tony has a sweet spot for her, taught her everything he knows, and if you ask me, he spoils her a little. But I can't blame him, she gives us those puppy dog eyes and it seems like no time has passed. We're all old and she gets what she wants from those soft adults."

The warmth and nostalgia of the veteran's words made Wanda smile as well. She let a moment pass before commenting:

"Earlier, Y/N said something about being... souvenir." And the phrase drew a hearty laugh from Clint.

He shook his head in disbelief before retorting, "It's a long story..."

"It's not like I have anywhere else to go." Wanda jokes it's kind of dry humor, but it makes Clint chuckle weakly. He settles into the chair next to her and assumes a thoughtful expression.

"Well, I guess it all started in Budapest..."

It's not like she needed any more reasons to like you, but nonetheless, Clint gave all of them and more. The story was brief but much appreciated; Natasha found you by chance, the joke about being Souvenir now made sense and Wanda wanted to laugh at your dry sense of humor so similar to hers. A professional Russian spy is given a second chance and while she is trying to gain the trust of the people around her, she encounters an angry child during an infiltration and elimination operation. Unlike everyone on the team of military and guilty billionaires, you were just a civilian with no options. Born into a family made up of people who made all the wrong choices and compromised your safety. Enter the Shield, with two agents who were determined to bring the only survivor home.

Wanda immediately understood Natasha's responsibilities and desperate desire for your safety.

Clint's narrative grew vaguer, and he got quieter as he drank more. Wanda didn't need telepathy to know that the archer was thinking about his own kids, and with a tired smile, he took a last sip of his beer and offered her a pat on the shoulder.

"Time for me to go home, Wanda." He commented, looking around at the practically empty party room now. They had been so wrapped up in stories about the past that he had barely seen the party ending. "Whatever you need, give me a call, okay?"

Clint's goodbyes were always like this, and Wanda just returned the smile.

Alone at the bar, she decided to make her way to her twin brother who was now sitting on one of the couches. The whole way there, she tried to keep her racing heart in check on account of the person in the opposite seat.

"[...] And all that for her to kick me out of bed the next day!" The end of Sam's story drew laughter from the group, and Wanda tried to go unnoticed and find a corner, but once you were close enough, you adjusted yourself on the couch.

"Hey, there's space here." You offered gently, tapping the free spot next to you and with all the attention on her, Wanda could only accept the invitation quickly, squeezing in next to you on the couch.

Sam, who didn't mind the momentary attention stolen, continued to tell stories of failed date nights, tales funny and embarrassing enough to keep the group entertained. Wanda was too busy trying not to look like a complete mess and hiding her own expression from her curious brother to pay attention to them.

Before she could realize it, she had stood beside you in complete silence for half an hour, just listening and forcing smiles whenever Pietro tried to include her in the conversation at the mention of some memory they shared. The party officially ended as the night wore on until only those who were part of the team were left in the room. And well, you.

"Hey kiddo, come on, I'll drive you home." It was Natasha already with a jacket over her dress and keys in hand. The information that there was a home beyond the tower stuck in Wanda's mind, and she had to force herself to stop imagining what the black widow's ordinary life as a single mother would be like.

Instead of getting up, you sank further into the sofa, stretching both arms out on the support of the furniture. Wanda was sure her face was the color of Natasha's hair, but she didn't dare look above her own lap, being sure that Pietro would notice if she did.

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm going to stay a little longer."

Natasha sighed wearily. "Kid, please." She insisted but you didn't lose your slouched posture.

Instead, you let your arm fall over Wanda and Sam, each on your side. "I just made new friends, come on!" You justified, squeezing them both for a moment. Wanda bit the inside of her cheek hard, "And tomorrow is the weekend!"

The widow didn't look persuaded at all, but a certain iron man mimicked the gesture you made with the other two, hugging Natasha sideways as his free hand brought out a little cocktail.

"Don't be so grumpy, Romanoff." Tony teased. "It's not like Y/N is twelve. In fact, I already bought her an eighteen birthday present."

The information made you get excited, and get up to try to get more information out of your uncle about that surprise gift.

Wanda let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding when she no longer had your arm around her, and as she raised her eyes and met her twin's curious gaze, she knew the color of her cheeks had worsened.

When Thor was drunk enough to keep talking about Asgard, and Natasha's keys were hanging over the hammer on the table, you yawned in the middle of a joke.

Steve chuckled, shaking out his hair and exchanging a quick glance with the widow talking to Agent Hill across the room.

"It's late, let's call it a night, Avengers." Announced the captain, receiving a chorus in protest but far too tired to counter more willingly.

Wanda herself was missing her heels, practically asleep against the shoulder of her twin brother, who was in one last round of improvised poker with the Falcon.

"Party killer." Tony teased with his eyes closed - He had been woken from his nap by the voice of the captain, who laughed at the comment before offering his hand to encourage you to get up from the couch.

The next few minutes were a blur in Wanda's mind until everything came back into focus at once. She was holding the crutches with her magic and helping her brother to stand when she heard you mutter something about sleeping in the tower. Suddenly, your sleepy figure tripped over the table leg, and instead of a tragic accident with the hammer static in the center, everything crashed to the floor.

The Mjolnir rolled a few inches away from your body, and you laughed embarrassedly, half of Tony Stark's punch in your jacket.

"Damn, let's hope she didn't scratch your toy." Joked Sam, but Thor was half pale looking at you in shock.

It was Rogers who lifted you like a knight to the rescue, but when he tried to duck to retrieve the hammer, the item didn't care to flinch.

Suddenly the whole group understood what had happened while you were distracted by the punch damage to your new suit.

"Sorry, Uncle Tony, I think it's going to stain..." You muttered upset, raising your eyes to the room of adults staring at you and breaking into a confused laugh. "What?"

Thor swallowed dryly. "Hm, kid, can you... pick up the hammer for me?"

You shrugged, ducking down at the same moment. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to knock it over." And you lifted it without any difficulty, extending it to Thor who looked about to pass out and didn't make a move. You made a confused face. Opening your mouth to question, you had no chance to do so as Thor was already looking at Natasha.

"We have to talk." He pointed at you next. "The three of us."

Nat sighed and grabbed the hammer from your hand, tossing it into Thor's lap who caught it just in time to avoid hitting him in his most sensitive parts, grimacing at the redhead.

"See? It's no big deal. I can lift it too, so don't even try to give me that look."

"Natasha-"

"No. She's a kid, Thor! Don't even start, we're leaving!"

"Romanoff!" Insisted the god, but he had to get up to follow the figure of Nat, who had grabbed your hand and was practicing running away down the tower.

The rest of the team stood in an embarrassing silence, being able to hear the heated discussion in the hallway of the other three for the next few minutes until Steve cleared his throat.

"I think it's best if we each go to bed..."

"Shush, popsicle." Cut Tony impatiently. "We just found new rulers of Asgard."

"Yeah, let us hear it." Insisted Sam and Steve got no support from anyone else, everyone too curious to give privacy to the discussion that seemed close to ending.

A moment later, Thor returned with a smile on his face, and next to him, a widow with her arms crossed. "We have a proposition to make." Announced the blond man, giving the smaller one a gentle nudge.

Natasha sighed stubbornly. "It's against all my wishes-"

Thor snorted good-naturedly, nudging Natasha's face like an older brother and ignoring the other's protest to excitedly tell the room: "Everyone has seen that little Romanoff can lift the hammer, and well, this is the greatest proof of honor, strength, and dignity a warrior can have and I think it's more than enough to give that girl a chance to be part of the team like she's always wanted since she was a rude little brat-

"Thank you, Uncle." You cut in with a laugh as you came into the scene again. Wanda saw that you were now out of your wet suit, the t-shirt gave way to what looked like one of the social shirts of the party waiters and was clearly an improvised outfit by the way half the buttons were still being buttoned.

Thor suddenly wrapped you in a corner hug, looking very proud and the gesture made you chuckle. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" He commented tearfully, to which you shook your head.

"I would still finish school, and there's college too, but Thor thinks he could train me like the Asgardians. That is of course, if you guys would accept me into the team. What do you say?"

The group grinned affectionately, and as Steve Rogers sniffled softly, Tony opened his arms excitedly.

"Of course, you can be an Avenger! Come here!"

As the adults moved to hug you tight, the new members stood watching politely, smiling at the scene. Pietro, now standing next to his sister, leaned in to whisper:

"I saw the way you look at her.” He said, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hide any reaction. "You totally have a crush."

"Shut up." She snapped sullenly, ignoring her brother's chuckle.

Your inclusion in the team gave energy for one last round of drinks - non-alcoholic for the underage trio - in celebration. And around three in the morning now, Wanda could barely keep her eyes open.

She walked Pietro back to his room, worried that he would stumble on the way and ignoring her brother's jokes that he would speed up before he could hit the floor, and only after he was comfortable under the sheets did she leave the room towards her own.

She eventually found out that Clint didn't lie. In fact, you were her roommate, and well, she felt a little embarrassed to interrupt a moment of reconciliation between you and your mother, who was kissing your forehead before letting you go to rest. The widow also offered a smile to Wanda who nodded absently, and thus, the two of you were left alone in the hallway.

"Hey, Maximoff."

The brunette smiled, scratching her eyes softly. "Hey, new Avenger." She managed to joke, eliciting a shy giggle from you. It was clear that you were pleased and excited, and Wanda wished she could say that she wasn't affected one bit by the gleam in your eyes, but that would be a lie.

"I'm still sort of digesting that one. It seems surreal." You comment, scratching behind the back of your neck. Steve's act of ruffling your hair left earlier that evening gave you an air of domesticity that made Wanda's breathing catch. Damn it, Pietro was right. She was a goner. "I know the situation is quite different, but I guess you must be nervous too, right? Your brother at least, acknowledged that he is."

Wanda blinks in surprise, stealing a glance at Pietro's door. He hadn't confessed this to her, but it made sense that despite everything, he was nervous about becoming a real superhero.

"Yeah, I guess." She retorts, crossing her arms. "I think it feels more real when we're fighting together."

You chuckled softly, hiding your hands in your pockets. "Don't let my mother hear you. She's still processing that part." You joked, getting a soft laugh from the other, the sound bringing a soft color to your cheeks that Wanda doesn't notice, too busy hiding her own. "Hey, total change of subject but do you go to school?"

She blinks in confusion, "What...?"

"It's just that it would be cool to go with you!" You quickly clarify. "Since we're similar ages, I figured we could be classmates..."

Wanda shifts the weight of her foot awkwardly, clearing her throat. "Hm, I fell behind." She interrupts, frowning slightly. "You know, the schools stop with the conflicts and the bombings. And then Hydra came and the tests and it didn't make sense for either me or Pietro to keep studying anymore..."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Sorry." You mutter clearly embarrassed that you brought up the subject. Wanda uncrosses her arms, not knowing what to do with her hands. "God, I'm so stupid."

"It's okay, you were just curious." She tries to reassure you, receiving a nod and a forced smile.

It was your turn to switch the weight of your feet and to take your hands out of your pockets to cross your arms. "Sorry, sometimes I speak without thinking. And I think too much, so often the lines slip out before I finish thinking about them... Anyway, I read your file, and I know the basics of history so of course it was inappropriate to ask such a stupid question and-"

"Y/N." Wanda interrupted you with a somewhat impressed laugh. She had just realized that you were as clumsy with social interactions as she was. What a great pair you would make. "It's no problem, really. It's... sweet that you care about my education. I think Stark is taking care of it, with the whole paperwork thing, you know? We'll probably have a tutor, me and Pietro, I say."

"Sure, that makes sense." You comment with a sigh. "And tutors give homework, right? I'll be around, we'll be able to help each other and everything."

Wanda chuckles tenderly, nodding. She's exhausted, but she doesn't want this night to ever end. "That's a great idea, detka." She lets the nickname slip, begging the gods that you let it go. But of course, you choke and turn pink, consequently bringing warmth to the other's face.

There is a timid pause between you before you mutter.

"My mother taught me a bunch of foreign languages growing up." You recount quietly, staring at your feet as Wanda stares at a dot in the hallway. "But I wanted to learn Sokovian to meet the new Avengers. It's cool if you want to call me that...I like it."

With her face very flushed and her heart racing in her throat, Wanda could only nod and hum in agreement, her shyness drawing a small laugh from you.

"Risking a second inappropriate question tonight but you wouldn't have a phone, would you?" you quibble, to which Wanda quickly denies. You nod. "I figured not yet. I'll get one for you, and for Pietro too. That way we can keep in touch, you know? I can send you memes, or homework cheats. Or movie recommendations. We can even create a superhero Instagram page for you."

Wanda giggled shortly, nodding clumsily at the tenderness of your gaze and the concern for her entertainment. "You are so silly..."

You narrowed your eyes in amusement, pointing at her. "Let's see if you'll say that when I turn you into a social influencer." You joked getting another hearty laugh from her.

During the next pause, filled with complicit giggles, Wanda knows you are staring and you are doing the same and before it gets awkward, you clear your throat and break the charm, returning some of the space you broke by instinct during the conversation.

"It's late, we should get to bed before the captain comes to do it." You remark and Wanda nods in agreement, even though she wishes she stayed.

"We'll see each other tomorrow. Right?"

You agree so quickly that your neck snaps. "Of course, t-tomorrow. Yeah, 'can't wait." Wanda smiles tenderly, nodding before walking away to her own door.

She enters first, biting back a silly smile that struggles to fill her own face.

Alone in the hallway, you have the same problem.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff

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rollingsins · 8 months

Text

all hers, part xxvi

summary: In the aftermath of everything, back to Woodsboro YN and Tara go.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is a bit of a nothing chapter, apologies in advance. This is also the penultimate chapter, part of why I've been procrastinating so long. but alas, all good things must come to an end ;'))

The trip back to Woodsboro hospital is smoother than anticipated.

The morphine does wonders for your pain, but not so much for your coherence. By the time you’re rolled out into the ambulance, you’ve told Tara how pretty she is at least six times and declared Sam ‘best sister-in-law in the world’ at least three.

Thankfully, Nurse Rosario is nowhere to be found.

Although Tara had mellowed slightly after your last talk, you’re not keen for a repeat. After she’d plied you with enough morphine to take down a horse, she’d disappeared. Perhaps heeding the warning of Tara’s stormy glare.

Tara rides in the ambulance with you, her hand pressed in yours. Sam sits beside you (Dewey had re-romandeered the car they’d stolen with a sigh and a forgiving smile).

By the time you’re rolled into Woodsboro hospital, it’s near noon. Your Dad’s insurance has paid for a private room for him, your Mom and you and so you tilt your neck eagerly as you’re rolled onto the floor, searching each face for the familiarity of your parents.

“Your parents are here,” Says one of the EMTs, noticing the way your head tilts around madly, “Your Mom is getting a scan done, your Dad is with her. They’re both okay. They’ll be here soon.”

“Thanks,” You say, though it doesn’t sate your anxiety. That won’t be gone until they’re both here with you.

The floor is awash with busy doctors and nurses.

Most don’t give you a second look.

Except for one.

Nurse Dawson is standing near one of the nurses stations when you’re rolled into your room.

You see her first, though Tara doesn’t notice her.

And when Nurse Dawson turns and sees your girlfriend, her face falls.

Only for a moment. Her face conflicts, but the professionalism wins out.

She straightens her shoulders.

And you can tell by the look on her face she’s the one assigned to you.

Tara smiles at you as the EMTs settle you into your new bed. Oblivious to the carnage she causes.

It’s like some sort of reverse superpower.

The ability to somehow irritate every medical professional assigned to her.

You sigh and lean back into your pillows as the nurse approaches.

“YN. Ms Carpenter,” She says politely enough, “Nice to see you again.”

Tara looks over impatient. You can tell by the lack of recognition in her face she doesn’t recognise the nurse. Instead, she looks over to Sam.

“Sure,” Says Tara, nonplussed, “I’m going to need another bed in here for my sister. She spent last night on a couple of plastic chairs.”

You look around the room.

There’s two empty beds - presumably for your mother and father. It’s cramped in here, more so than usual with your family reunion. You can tell before the Nurse speaks Tara isn’t going to like her answer.

“We don’t have beds to spare for visitors, Tara,” Nurse Dawson says pointedly, “Perhaps you and your sister could come back in the morning.”

Tara stares a moment.

Then her eyes narrow.

You tug gently at her hand trying to draw her attention.

“Babe,” You touch her arm gently, “Maybe it’s not a terrible idea. You and Sam could both go home and get some rest.”

“Absolutely not,” Tara says, voice indignant, “I’m not leaving you alone, baby.”

“Mom and Dad will be here with me,” You assure, but Tara’s turned her glare towards you, “Seriously babe. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Says Tara, voice final. She shoots a look over to Nurse Dawson, “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.”

Your Mom is wheeled back in first.

You sit up in your bed so abruptly you almost knock Tara to the floor.

Your Mom is misty-eyed, gaze a little unfocused, undoubtedly strung out on pain medication. Her eyes well when she sees you, hand twitching as she sits a little taller in her seat.

“Mom,” You croak, “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” She says. The nurse wheels her into the slot beside you and she reaches for your hand, “Are you okay?”

Sam wanders off to leave you to your reunion, but Tara stays nestled into your side. Your Mom’s leg is gone, and you can’t help the flood of tears that burst through each time your gaze wanders down.

“It’s alright, YN,” Your Mom assures, “I’m alive. Dad’s alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Your Dad follows in, shortly after.

He’s in a wheelchair, looking so frail with dark circles under his eyes and milky, pale skin. He squeezes your hand and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

And then he surveys Tara.

She’s sitting up now, your hand still pressed firmly in hers. He watches quietly for a moment. You almost think he’s about to ask her to leave when he reaches out, and outstretches his hand.

Tara blinks in surprise.

Your eyebrows furrow.

Your Dad looks serious. The kind of seriousness usually accompanied by a raise in tone or the promise of his shotgun. But there’s none of that now.

Hesitantly, Tara takes his hand.

“Thank you,” He says, as she clasps her hand in his. He shakes it firmly, “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Tara doesn’t say anything.

You look at your Dad. His voice is earnest, his brows pinched.

He looks open.

Like he’s about to cry.

“Dad,” You say, voice soft.

He squeezes Tara’s hand once, then lets her go. Slowly, he wheels towards you, eyes misty.

“You,” He says as he pulls you into a hug, “Are never leaving my side again.”

He pulls back slightly and thinks.

“Or hers.”

When the dust settles and your Dad has got the last of his dewey, sappy words out, the room moves back into normality.

Normality now, it seems, is absurdity.

Tara and your Dad are watching a ball game together. You survey them, eyebrow raised, sharing a look of bewilderment with Sam as she walks back into the room.

“Hey,” Says Sam, tray of donuts in hand. Tara and your Dad don’t look up from the TV, “What are we watching?”

“Giants,” Says Tara. She lounges back into your hospital bed, nestling her head on your shoulder, “Flores is killing it.”

“About damn time,” Grumbles your Dad, “He spent the last game striking out.”

“Speaking of striking out,” You say, eyebrow raised at Sam, “Did you speak to Nurse Dawson about a spare bed?”

Sam shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’d rather sleep in my own bed anyway. Besides,”

She eyes your Mom and Dad.

“It seems like a family affair in here anyway. You’re sure you don’t want to come with me, Tara? The nurse seemed pretty insistent that no more beds would fit.”

“I’m sure.” Tara says, voice flat. She curls a protective arm around your waist.

You flash Sam a small smile, “It’s fine, Sam. She can sleep with me. She’s little, she fits.”

Sam purses her lips.

Tara glares up at you.

“I am not little.” She says, frowning.

You press a kiss to her lips.

“Okay, then big guy, better go home with Sam.” You tease.

She pouts. Nudges her face into your neck.

“I fit,” She tells Sam, and then turns her attention back to the ball game.

Sam makes her departure, shortly thereafter. Your Dad falls asleep midway through the game, your Mom is wheeled off for an MRI at just the moment Tara’s friends make an appearance.

Liv’s bought flowers, Chad and Mindy follow in with wide eyes. They hug you, settle down into the seats by your bed, careful not to wake your snoring Father.

“Hey,” Mindy says, “How are you feeling?”

“She’s okay,” Says Tara, smoothing your hair back, “Now the morphines kicked in, right baby?”

“Right,” You echo, sitting up slightly.

Liv smiles.

“These are for you,” She says, “Tara said they were your favorite.”

“Thanks Liv,” You say with a smile.

Mindy settles on the chair to your left, Chad and Liv hover near the end of your bed.

Mindy leans over to you, a little wide eyed.

“The Sheriff,” She says, chewing her lip, “Damn it. I should have guessed.”

“I just don’t understand,” Says Liv, eyebrows pinched, “Why would she kill her own son?”

Tara shifts, uncomfortably. Mindy rolls her eyes.

“She didn’t kill her own son, dumbass,” Says Mindy, “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallow.

“There’s no body” Mindy says, leaning forward in her seat, a little excited, “When Ghostface kills, there’s always a body.”

Liv blinks back at her.

“What if…” Mindy says, eyes squinted like she’s thinking hard, “What if Wes isn’t dead at all. What if that’s just what he wanted us all to think? What if there’s a third Ghostface, and it’s him?”

Your heart hammers.

A wave of nausea rises at the theory, but before you can voice your displeasure, Chad beats you too it.

“Give it up, Nancy Drew,” He says, shaking his head, “You haven’t been right a single time. All those powerpoints for nothing. I think it’s time to pack it in.”

Mindy pouts, slumping back in her seat.

“I could have been right,” She says, but Chad raises a hand.

“But you weren’t. Jesus. Leave it alone.”

He pats your hand, not unkindly, “The important thing is Ghostface is gone and YN and Tara are okay.”

“Thanks Chad,” You say.

He leans back in his seat, eyebrows pinched.

“I just don’t get why she did it at all,” Says Chad, tilting his head in a frown, “Same with Richie. Why? It all seems so pointless.”

Tara stirs, pressing a comforting kiss to the side of your neck.

“That’s for the police to figure out,” She says, squeezing your hand, “For now? Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

The days pass by in a blur of morphine, and nausea and the blare of Tara and your Dad’s newfound hobby of watching sports games together.

Tara sleeps at your side, dotes on you like a baby bird who has fallen from the nest.

Sam stops by in the afternoons, Nurse Dawson avoids the two of you as best she can, coming into your room wordlessly and appraising Tara with a resentful glare everytime she changes your bandages.

Dewey returns to take your statement, takes Tara and Sam away for hours to question them, but ultimately, the case is clear cut.

The Sheriff is Ghostface, Richie her accomplice, and by the seventh day of your hospital stay, Dewey informs you the police are closing the case as solved.

It would be worrying - the police’s utter lack of comprehension - had it not been in your favor.

So you nod your head and squeeze Tara’s hand as you accept his apology for the Woodsboro police failing you both.

“We’ll be suing the police department,” Says your Father curtly, before Dewey can make his exit, “For gross negligence and endangering the life of my daughter.”

You sigh.

Tara cocks her head, as if she’s about to list off a variety of law firms she’s learned of through her extensive research before you squeeze her shoulder, and pull her back down to you.

Your Mother huffs before you can say anything.

“We’re not suing anybody,” Says your Mom firmly. She offers Dewey the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Deputy Riley.”

“We should be suing the police,” Tara grumbles later, when she’s helping you into the back of Sam’s car.

You’d be discharged by a happy Nurse Dawson. Your Mom and Dad would stay a little longer in the hospital while you slept over at Tara’s for a few nights.

Hospitals give you the creeps, and you didn’t want to spend any more time there than necessary.

Tara slips your seatbelt around your waist and you pull her in for a brief kiss.

“What’s all that about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?” You say quietly as Sam slips into the drivers seat and Tara falls quiet.

Your stomach is still a little sore - you feel it now as Tara and Sam help you up the staircase to her bedroom.

“Watch it Sam, you neanderthal,” Tara snaps as Sam almost steps on your foot as they're half-carrying you to bed.

You scold her if you had the strength. Instead, you focus all your energy into trying not to focus on the searing pain in your side as Tara slips you into her sheets.

“Sorry, YN,” Sam says quietly before Tara shoos her out.

You’re sweating a little, gone is the morphine. Nurse Dawson had put you on something else - something a little less addictive, and a little more prone to letting the pain in.

You groan as Tara slides into the spot next to you, soothing your pain with the press of her lips.

“Does it hurt, baby?” She asks, brown eyes mournful, “Do you want me to get you your pills?”

You shake your head.

The pain stings, like a dull ache, but it doesn’t hurt so much you need more. You touch her arm, nestle yourself into her side.

“Just stay with me and I’ll be fine,” You say, as she curls her arm around your waist. She leans down and places a protective kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” She admits, softly. You lean up and she presses the softest kiss to your lips, “Do you want me to see if Chad can get you something stronger?”

“No babe,” You chide, gently, “I’m fine.”

Tara thinks.

“Do you want me to go down on you?” She asks, hopeful, “That might make you feel better.”

You laugh.

“Might make me feel better, or you feel better?” You ask.

“Both,” She says with a pout.

You lean up to her, press another warm kiss to her lips.

“Just stay with me,” You say, “As long as you’re here I’ll be fine.”

Tara rubs her hand along the stretch of your back.

“Okay,” She says, voice soft, “I’ll just stay here with you.”

#all hers #ghostface!tara #jenna ortega #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #fanfic #mine

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Text

Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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#dean x reader fluff #supernatural fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader valentine's day #dean winchester x y/n #fluff #spn #supernatural dean #queued #supernatural fandom #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fic #supernatural fan fic #dean winchester #supernatural #fanfic

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iinsertblognamee · 8 months

Text

big sister's

summary ― what happens when your overprotective big sister finds out you're dating and not just that, you're dating the team captain. well shit.

pairing ― sam kerr x arnold!reader

warning/s ― angst, swearing

You let out a puff, as you sat down on the bench next to Katrina. Leaning over to stretch your legs, feeling the tension slowly break away. Training has been hard, Tony ensured we were performing to our absolute best.

Charlotte joined, asking Katrina about Harper. You tried to listen in to the conversation but your attention was quickly stolen before you could contribute anything important. Caitlin was in deep conversation with Sam. You could see Sam’s leg muscles flex as she attempted to stretch her injured calf. You embarrassingly roam your eyes all over her body as she pushes her hips deeper.

A shove stole your attention away - a knowing smirk on Katrina’s lips. Her eyebrows wiggling, Charlotte joined in.

“What’s going on over there little miss?” the older woman teases, giving you another shove.

“Shut up” you puff out, shaking your head as you stood up and turned your back to Sam. That would stop you from stealing any more glances. Grabbing your water bottle, taking a large sip so you could dodge the questions you knew both girls were bursting to ask. You could feel Charlotte wrapping her arm around your neck, bringing her head close to yours - giggles already leaving her lips.

“I don’t know if Mac would approve of this arrangement” The comment gets Katrina to let out a laughing snort; now gaining the attention of Ellie. “What’s happening over here?”

All three of you start to talk over each other, your “Nothing!” the loudest - causing Katrina and Charlotte to burst into giggles once again.

Thankfully before either of them could say anything else, Tony walked in - gaining the attention of everyone in the changing rooms.

“Alright ladies, good job out there today! Make sure to get changed and ready for lunch. We’ll be waiting for you in the cafeteria”. A clap of his hands gets everyone moving again. Katrina, Charlotte and Ellie walk out together, as you start to pack your bag up.

Soon enough you were one of the last to start to leave the room. Your attention fixated on tying your hair up in a bun that you don’t realise arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into the changing room. Spinning you around, you’re met with brown eyes and a small grin. You let her guide you to a corner of the room, her grin growing bigger.

“I miss you” she confesses, as she pulls you closer to her. Your lips practically touching. You feel her give your hips a slight squeeze, a small shiver running down your spine.

“I’ve been here the whole time” you bite back, a smile playing on your lips as she rolls her eyes at you. Shaking her head, “You know that’s not what I mean”. You almost miss it with how small she sounded, so intimate.

You did know what she meant. Over the past couple of weeks, the two of you hadn’t been able to have a moment to yourselves. Between world cup preparations, and brutal training sessions mixed, with group hangouts, your time with the women in front of you had been limited.

“I know, I miss you too” The confession brings a smile back on Sam’s face, one of her hands moving from your hip to cup your face. Her thumb grazing your lip, her eyes piercing yours - watching your every reaction. The sharp breath you take, only makes her smile wider.

You ultimately stop the chasing game, smashing your lips onto hers, your hands gripping her hips and pushing her body closer to yours. Somehow she manages to deepen the kiss, her hand now cupping the back of your neck to keep you on her lips.

The kiss was your first taste of her in weeks and if you weren’t so desperate you would have blushed at the noises leaving your lips. Sam only seems to take that on with pride, her second hand now gripping your ass. You gasp into her mouth, her taking the opportunity to trace your lower lips with her tongue before she lips it into your mouth.

You had known your girlfriend long before you transferred to Chelsea from West Ham United almost two years ago. While you both had been on the national team together, you had met her back when your big sister and Sam had been teammates back in 2014.

Although there had always been some sort of attraction between the two of you - it wasn’t until you had gotten injured just under a year ago did the pair of you decide to really go for it.

You vividly remember coming into contact with an opposing team member, pain and suddenly you were on the floor. You were walked off the field, Sam trying to follow but ultimately had to finish the game. The final whistle couldn’t have come any faster, Sam rushing towards the medical room to find you still being checked over for any signs of concession they may have missed.

Three stitches later - which Sam had held your hand for - you were given the all-clear to head home. Sam took it upon herself to take you home, checking every few minutes to make sure you weren’t going to collapse on her on the car ride home. It wasn’t until you found yourself covered in blankets (in fresh clothes with help from Sam, because god forbid you somehow hurt yourself getting changed) on your couch, water and food ready for you that she finally started to relax. She made sure to stay close enough to you in case you needed her for anything, her eyes never leaving your face.

You can’t remember if it was before Sam had asked you if you needed anything else or after she offered to stay the night but your lips were on hers. And as they say, it only got better from there.

The two of you broke away from your quick make-out, a giggle leaving your lips as you shake your head. The two of you acting like horny teenagers.

“We should probably head to lunch before people start to notice we aren’t there” Your suggestion creates a groan from your partner, the frown appearing on her face reminds you of your nieces when they get told it's bedtime. Shaking your head, before bringing your lips back to hers for one last peck.

The sound of shoes squeaking against the floor breaks the atmosphere the two of you had created, the two of you breaking apart to find Alanna frickin Kennedy standing there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. You feel your heart seize up, and it takes you a few seconds to remember how to breathe.

“Holy shit” was enough to leave her lips for you to break out of your shock. Your legs moving fast enough to grab her by the arms - somehow stopping the woman from running back to your sister.

“What the fu-” “-You can’t tell Mac” You cut her off, pleading as she closes her mouth. Looking over your shoulder to Sam before back at you. You can see the confusion on her face.

“Wh-what is - how did this happen?” You couldn’t find yourself saying anything, your mouth gaping but nothing coming out. “Lana-” Sam starts but immediately stops when the defender shoots her head up to look back at her.

“Mackenzie is going to kill you Kerr” The words made your blood run cold. You knew she was right.

Mackenzie Arnold, your big sister. You loved her, but you knew she had a protective streak when it came to you. She had managed to scare off every single person you had attempted to date, and as much as you love her - you wouldn’t let Sam be one of them.

Before you could even begin to beg Alanna to keep her mouth shut, you feel everything around you stopping once again.

“What the hell is going on here?” The sound of your sister’s voice is enough to make you drop your hands from Alanna and spin your body so you were facing her. You swear everyone in the room can hear your heart beating - but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

Sam goes to say something but Alanna cuts her off “Just grabbing these two - Y/N was talking game plays when I walked in”

Your gaze shoots right back to the blonde next to you, a forced smile on her face but you swear you could kiss her right now. You swear you hear Sam let out a breath as well.

“Well hurry up - I got a plate ready for you Y/N” It’s enough to get you moving away, breaking away from the small crowd that was now in the changing room and following your sister out - not daring to take a glance back at Sam.

You make your way to the cafeteria with Mac, taking a seat next to Caitlin as your sister sat on the other side. A plate is ready for you as promised. You can’t help but note it takes an extra five minutes for Alanna to join you guys at the table, but don’t allow yourself to question it as your sister keeps her arm around you.

The bus eventually comes to pick everyone up, Alanna taking the window seat as you move in next to her. Almost immediately your head is on her shoulder, your eyes struggling to stay open. You miss the way Sam checks you over from her seat, the slight frown as she watches you pass out almost instantly.

You flinch in your sleep, Alanna’s hand coming to cup your cheek and push your head further into her neck - her soothing graze calming you enough for the twitching to stop almost instantly. Sam watched the whole thing, the frown only deepening.

She understood why you wanted to keep the two of you under wraps, she knew how protective Mackenzie was over you - and honestly, she couldn’t blame her. She knew you were just worried about upsetting your sister, but it killed her to have to watch Alanna look after you when she was sitting just three seats down.

A slight nudge wakes you up, your sister smiling down at you as you rub your eyes.

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty” she grins, you sliding your head back into Lana’s neck and letting out a tired groan. It takes you a few more moments before you slowly start to get up - your body wasn’t obviously ready for it as your knees buckle, Mac grabs you instantly to steady you. “Woah there! Take it easy Y/N”

You feel Lana’s hand hold onto your waist, as she moves you out of the seat and towards your sister - who still had her hand holding your arm. You let the pair slowly guide you out of the bus, your eyes still half closed.

You don’t know how you managed to end up in your room, but the feeling of someone placing you in your bed and putting your blanket over you was enough for you to let sleep take over you once again.

The next time you wake up, it’s by kisses being littered all over your face. A grin appears on your lips as you slowly open your eyes to come face-to-face with Sam.

“Hey baby” she practically whispers, her finger tracing your face, slowly down around your lips, before bringing her face closer to plant a kiss right where her fingers were.

“Hi,” you whisper back, closing your eyes once more and letting out a content sigh. “I like this” you add, you feel Sam vibrate with a laugh, her hand now moving down to your arm.

“I like this too - could lay next to you forever” her voice just a little bit louder this time.

“Hm. that sounds nice”

The door slamming open doesn’t give you two enough time to break apart before your sister comes cruising in - carrying what you can only assume was dinner.

The silence is immediate. Until your sister speaks.

“What the fuck is happening here?” her yelling brings attention to your teammates, Alanna and Caitlin appearing in your room - both their faces frozen at the sight.

“Mac-” you try to start, she shuts you up as she raises her hand. Her gaze pointed directly at your girlfriend now sitting up next to you.

“Huh, what the fuck is this Kerr. Cause it looks like you're trying to fuck my little sister” Sam looks between the two sisters, trying to figure out the best way to calm the situation down. Your sister doesn’t appreciate the silence. “Which wouldn’t be right, because I know you swore you would stay the fuck away from her”

Your gaze breaks from your sister to Sam.

“What?” you know everyone in the room hears the way your voice cracks but you don’t care. You look and wait for Sam to deny it, but the way her eyes refuse to look at you answers your question.

Suddenly you can’t be in the room - you can’t have everyone looking at you. You manage to jump out of bed, but not without your foot getting caught in the sheets. You lose your balance, slamming your hip right into the bedside table. Sam and Mac both jump into action to help you but you flinch away from both their hands.

“Don’t” you manage you spill out, the tears streaming down your face, as you manage to slip through everyone and out into the hallway. The stinging from the bump was blatantly there. You hear your sister's voice but manage to turn the corner before you can make out what she’s saying.

You quickly knock on the first door around the corner, a few seconds later Katrina opens the door with Harper on her hip. Her smile drops when she notices the tears streaming down your face and your hand holding your sore hip. Within an instant, you're inside her room - the door closing behind you.

She guides you to her bed, harper noticing that you were sad as she threw her arms up to be grabbed by you. You let Harper distract you, as Katrina grabs you a glass of water from the bathroom.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks, handing over the glass - you take a sip before placing the glass down. Something in the way she looked at you just made you spill everything.

You tell her how you started dating Sam after years of having a massive crush on her. How you felt like you couldn’t tell your sister because you were scared you were going to lose Sam if you did. How it didn’t matter because Mac found out anyway and you lost Sam anyway. While in the heat of your breakdown, you let it slip that you always felt that Sam couldn’t love you the way you loved her - and now it was proven. The way she couldn’t even begin to defend herself when your sister spilled that she had told Mac she wouldn’t go for you.

Katrina let you cry out to her, her hand never leaving your back as she soothed you down. She didn’t once stop you or try to cut in and for that you were grateful. Letting everything off your chest to someone, you suddenly felt so much lighter.

Once you feel like you’ve said everything you could, you turn your attention back to Katrina, she gives you a small smile as she tucked some hair behind your ear.

“Can I say what I think?” she asks, all you can do is give her a small nod.

“I think you don’t give yourself or the girls enough credit. Look I know you felt like you had to keep it from Mac because she wouldn’t approve or whatever but I know your sister and I know you. She would do anything for you Y/N. And if that meant being okay with you and Sam she would - because she loves you so so much. And I don’t know what conversation happened between Sam and Mac before but anyone with eyes can see just how much Sam loves you. I'm honestly surprised it took Mac this long to finally see that something was happening between the two of you. Sam looks at you like you hung the sun and the stars, and I promise you that whatever was said in that conversation before has nothing on what Sam feels for you now. Was it shit that this is how it all came out? Yes! But those two girls love you with all their hearts and would do anything to see a smile on your face”.

The tears had managed to start again as she spoke to you, her other hand now rubbing your knee too. “You really think so?” you mumble out, your gaze looking anywhere but at her face.

“I know so. And another thing! You don’t realise just how much those two would do for you. You don’t need to be worrying about losing either of them. And if they did walk away well it's their loss and I promise you the rest of us girls wouldn’t take it lightly.”

You let out a small laugh at the last part - a smile on Katrina’s face as she wipes away the final streaks left for the tears before. She takes Harper out of your lap, who had somehow fallen asleep during your breakdown.

“Now you know you’re always welcome here but I think you need to go talk to your two girls before they both break down this door looking for you”.

You say your thank yous, as you give her one last hug before making your way back to your room. The door is still open but when you walk in you notice that your bed has been made as well as the clothes you had left on the floor are now cleaned up. Sam is sitting on the chair by the small table in the corner of the room. Her lip in between her teeth - a nervous habit.

“Hey,” she croaks out, standing up to wrap her arms around you before stopping herself and bringing them back next to her side.

“Hi,” you mumble back. The silence feels weird between the two of you.

You both go to say something before pausing for the other to continue.

“No, you go,” you both say, causing a small laugh to leave both your lips.

This was going to be okay.

“I love you Y/N. I need you to know that. God, I love you so much it hurts. And I’ve loved you for a long time - longer than I probably should have but I do and I'm not going to apologise for that. Yes, your sister and I had a stupid conversation years ago that I regret but I promise you it wasn’t how I meant it. I just know that when I first saw you all those years ago I knew you were it for me and that was before I knew you were Mac’s younger sister. I’ve loved you since 2014 when you came to training and kicked my ass. I still loved you when I saw you jump in Mac’s arms and thought you two were together and I think I loved you even more when I realised you two were sisters and I still had a chance with you. Your sister had made our whole team promise we wouldn’t try anything on you and I stupidly agreed because I couldn’t understand why you would ever want someone like me. But here we are, and I’m so sorry but I’m not sorry for loving you and I will never feel sorry for that because you’re it for me, Y/N Arnold. You're my game-saving goal, you’re my everything and I will forever be in love with you.”

You don’t know when exactly you both started crying, but the moment she stopped talking you were in her arms - your lips smashed against each other. “God I love you so so much” she mumbles onto your lips as she continues to kiss you.

“I love you so much Sammy, you have no idea. And I'm sorry that I hide you from Mac, I just didn’t want to lose you”

“I know baby. I know. I don’t blame you”

“Bu-but” her hands were combing through your hair, relaxing you - like she knew it did “I’m going to talk to her, and tell her that she’s just going to have to get over it cause I’m not losing you. Not over this”

“You’ll never lose me Y/N. Ever” And sealed it with a kiss.

The two of you ended up in your bed, moments sealed between the two.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours had passed, Sam traced your face with her finger - the bedsheets covering both your bodies, smiles and secret glances shared between the two of you.

“I should probably talk to Mac” you whisper into the atmosphere, her tilting her head to catch a better look at you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” as much as you wanted to say yes, you knew you needed to talk to your sister alone.

“That’s okay - but thank you” you murmur back, pressing one last kiss on your girlfriend's lips, before slipping out from under the sheets and grabbing the first couple of items you could find on the floor and putting them on before making your way towards the door.

“I love you” Sam calls out, as you open the door.

“I love you more” You blow her a kiss, as you close the door and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Making your way down the hallway felt a lot more daunting than you were hoping. You knew in your head that your sister would love you no matter what, but you still couldn’t help but feel nervous.

You loved Sam, but you love your sister too and you don’t know what you would do without either of them.

You knock quietly on the door, taking a deep breath as the door swings open. Your big sister was rubbing her face, but you knew she hadn’t slept at all. The second she notices it’s you, she straightens up - her hand dropping.

“Mac..” you start, and you already feel the tears coming. It’s enough for your sister as she pulls you into a hug and brings you inside her room. She guides you to her bed, her embrace never leaving you. It was hard for you, the two of you rarely got into fights - even as kids.

You wait for her to say something, too scared to say the wrong thing; as much as you love your sister so was stubborn and you knew this.

“Macca, please” you almost choke out, moving your body so you were now facing her, her hands now resting on your legs.

“How long has this been going on?” Great. Straight to the point. You know there’s no point lying but you suddenly feel guilty telling her the truth.

“Since I had to get the stitches last year” Had it really been that long? Had you really kept this from your sister for that long? She lets out a sharp breath at the confirmation but doesn’t add anything. Your heart breaking.

“Please don’t hate me” The tears had officially started, and Mac’s head shoots up at your ask, her mouth falling open.

“I could never hate you” she chokes out, ripping her arms around you and pulling you into her embrace. Her hand patting your hair down. “I love you too much to even think about ha- that” You grabbed onto her harder as you heard her voice crack as she responded to you.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, embracing one another.

“I had always figured something had happened” she mumbled into your hair, before pulling you off her to watch your reaction.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

She let out a small sigh, as she looked up at the ceiling. “Sam called me up just after they had given you the stitches, told me everything that happened and how she was going to take you back home and watch over you. She sounded so worried and I could hear you in the background calling out for her. I tried not to think too much about it because I knew she would look after you, if not for me but for herself”.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart speed just a little faster at this new piece of information.

“She did”

“I know. I never doubted that Y/N. She cares about you. She always has and I know that - but all of this is scary Y/N. You’re my little sister and I just wanted to be able to protect you as much as I could. And I’m sorry that my protectiveness made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about you and Kerr”

You let a smile slip at the sound of your girlfriend’s last name. It was a trait your sister would do to anyone who would try to date you - one of her ways of trying to intimidate them.

“I know Macca, and I love you for being so protective of me - I know I’ll have you in my corner looking out for me but-”

“-But you love Sam, I know. And I know how much she loves you. I think I’ve known for a while, but I guess I just didn’t want to believe it”. She pulls you into another hug, kissing the top of your head. You let her embrace you as you let out a deep breath. You already felt a billion times better knowing Mac was okay with you.

“Are you mad at Sam?” you hear the sigh before you feel her shake her head.

“No, I’m not”

The seconds her words made sense in your brain, you somehow managed to pull her even closer to you, squealing as you thanked her over and over again. It wasn’t for a couple more seconds before you pulled away - a small grin appeared on your face. Your sister already knew this meant trouble.

“So you’re okay with…” you trail off, waiting for her to finish your sentence. She gives you a look as your smile breaks even wider, before nodding her head.

“Yes, I’m okay with you two” You let out a giggle as you grabbed her face and planted a kiss on her forehead - making sure to make an outrageous kissy noise with it. “I love you. I love you. I love you” you repeat over and over again as you keep kissing her head.

“Yes, Yes! I know! Now go back to your girlfriend before she comes here and I have to deal with watching you two do god knows what”

That’s all you needed to hear as you broke away from your sister and made your way back to your room - where you knew your girlfriend waited for you.

And you couldn’t wait.

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine

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bi-disaster-yn · 1 year

Text

Female Rage

Paring: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks it’s a success when the team manage to uncover a Hydra human trafficking operation targeting women and girls. Reader knows it’s only a drop in the ocean of patriarchal violence towards women.

A/N: This was very cathartic for me to write. I carry around all these feelings and fanfic allows me to outlet them. Thanks for being part of it <3

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This fic discusses systematic issues around violence towards women and has mentions of trafficking, sexual violence, domestic abuse and murder.

The sirens, the flashing blue lights, and all of the people around you overwhelmed your senses. Your body became a mere vessel which moved without any control or instruction. A part of your soul had died but you had to keep going.

All around you were women and young girls who, just an hour prior, were being held in a lorry and were being trafficked to a covert Hydra base. The purpose of the operation was an early stage attempt to revive the Red Room but with a team of you, Bucky, Sam and Yelena you were able to put a stop to it.

Having managed to track the lorry down to the specific coordinates, you infiltrated the mission. They had been driving on a long and quiet country road, seemingly hidden by the cascades of giant trees in an extensive woodland. A nasty fight with the Hydra agents ensued when you and Yelena caught up with them in an Audi, while Bucky met them head on with a motorcycle and Sam flew in and took the roof. It concluded with them being hauled away in handcuffs but you wish you’d killed them.

Then came the aftermath.

The scene seemed to be carrying on around you without any of your input, as though you could disappear and nothing would have changed. Government officials, policemen and ambulances had arrived to assist in getting these women to safety. You were supposed to be directing them to safe points, instructing the paramedics and police officers on what to do next but the more you tried to focus, the harder it got.

Each time one of the victims thanked you, it sent an ugly shudder down your spine. An abnormally large shaped lump swelled in your throat, rendering a response impossible. All you could offer was a solemn nod, which somehow, they managed to receive your true meaning. An unspoken understanding that could only be shared between women endured throughout all of your exchanges.

Bucky and Sam were still capable of focus as they liaised with officers and helped women, offering more words of encouragement than you or Yelena ever could. Every now and then, Bucky flashed you an encouraging smile, clearly proud of what you were able to achieve today. It was something you couldn’t return.

Ringing in your ears persisted and you flinched as more sirens arrived. You moved without purpose, trying to point in different directions to aid the girls to paramedics if they needed medical attention, and to a police officer if not. Even then, a peculiar feeling churned in your stomach as you stared at the officers, who were all men and mentally cursed that no one in the police department had thought to send any women to this scene. Effectively, it felt like you were passing these girls from one evil, male-dominated organisation to another.

A strong sense of injustice built up tension in your body, harbouring an overpowering reaction, which you were unsure if you could suppress for much longer.

The match in the powder barrel, however, was witnessing a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 sheltering and comforting two little girls who were terrified and crying for their mother. At first glance, it appeared as though the little ones had no relation to her whatsoever. Yet, this girl had adopted this maternal role which she was far too young to accept. As soon as you saw them safely situated in an ambulance, you decided you couldn’t take this anymore.

Passing by everyone and ignoring calls from Sam, you stormed into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into the trees and the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

You couldn’t remember when you started crying, you just knew that tears streamed down your cheeks. The combination of the tears and the intense headache they brought blurred your vision. You brought your hands to your head and wailed, knowing that no one would hear you.

You thought about how those girls had now secured this trauma and although the Hydra mission hadn’t been completed, this ordeal would alter the courses of their lives forever. This would manifest itself in different ways in all of their lives. They’d never be able to live without the memory of this ever again, tainting their experiences, putting them on their guard, making them cautious of the world and what monsters harboured amongst the humans among them. Honestly, you preferred your chances against Thanos than the men that walked this Earth.

That very concept made you angry. No, not angry. Incandescent.

The lump in your throat was surpassed by a bloodcurdling scream, the sound of which was so terrifying that the birds from the trees desperately flew away in a flock.

It was the only sound that could be heard for miles. All your rage was buried deep inside these woods like it had been in your body for years.

At this moment, this is all you were capable of. You continued to scream despite the scratch it created in your throat, or the fact it had worsened your headache. There was just so much rage contained in your body and you needed to get it out of you, no matter what it took. It was a fury so specific; so intertwined with womanhood and the female experience that no cisgender man could ever comprehend it.

It was female rage.

You were in so much pain. While yesterday you had been wrapped up with Bucky under a blanket, watching TV, eating food, having sex, doing all the normal things one does in a relationship; somewhere else at the same time, this operation was starting. It wouldn’t have been the only one. You were having a carefree day with your boyfriend while elsewhere in the world, men were committing atrocities against women – whether at a systematic level or a domestic one.

You squeezed your eyes shut in aid of your screams. Still without any control, your limbs moved on their own as you started to violently kick and punch one of the trees. Any injury sustained from this frantic display didn’t matter to you. The harsh bark of the tree broke the skin of your knuckles and soon it was decorated with your blood.

The screams and cries persisted as you channelled this anger into the assault of the tree. You were picturing those Hydra agents with the smug grin on their faces. You pictured the man that groped you in the club without your consent on your last girls’ night. You pictured the images of those incels you had curiously watched interviews with but had to turn your laptop off halfway through. You pictured the men who had refurbished the compound and had stared at you as you trained in the garden. You pictured every man who had ever questioned your ability to keep your emotions in check as a female Avenger.

You pictured them all and you desperately wanted them all to know how fucking helpless and infuriating this all felt. You wanted them to feel the weight of the world just as you had done from being a little girl.

Without warning, some force had pulled you back from the tree and had hauled you close into a smothering embrace. In spite of your blurred vision and your relentless howling, you recognised Bucky’s smell immediately as he held you close to his chest, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly together with his vibranium hand and using his flesh one to put your face in his neck. You struggled against him, feeling suffocated and not having abolished nearly as much fury as you needed to.

“Please, doll, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bucky mumbled against your forehead, pressing several gentle kisses to it.

Nevertheless, you still fought against him. But Bucky was too strong for you and even in the arms of your beloved, you were still trapped by a man.

“Bucky. Let. Me. Go.” You shakily told him with gritted teeth.

“I’m scared to, sweetheart. Your hands… look at them.” He sobbed back, clearly in distress. A quick glimpse at your hands validated his concern. The skin round your knuckles had been torn open and in amongst the blood and mangled flesh lay splinters and chips from the tree.

It wasn’t sore, but the rest of your body was.

“I don’t understand, doll. Did something happen back there to upset you? You saved those girls. We wouldn’t have been able to do that mission without you.” Bucky said gently, loosening his grip only slightly to cradle you lovingly, rather than to protectively restrain you.

It triggered a scoff and even further anger from you.

“That’s not the point! The point is it keeps happening! We saved those girls today, sure. But somewhere out there, another one of those operations is starting and more girls will be hurt. Those operations are going on round the world, Bucky! They want us to be slaves to them in any way they can think of – whether that is to be used as a weapon or for sex or as working mules!

And these men, they’re so fucking clever! They’re making this untraceable! And we won’t be able to save them all. It’s never-ending, we’re trying to scoop up water from the ocean!”

Whether you intended it or not, the words came out as a yell and Bucky let you go. Clearly, none of this had ever occurred to him and your fury scared him. Meanwhile, your hand gestures went wild as you spoke, your facial expressions became more animated. This was only the beginning as your thoughts continued to spill out to the unassuming and gentle man you loved so much.

“And this? This is worst case scenario! Every single day women are subject to the violence of men! We’ve saved those girls, right? And we’re gonna do what? Give them normal homes so they can walk about with their keys in their hands?! We handed them over to fucking police officers who themselves have a history of being violent towards women. The cycle repeats itself!

That’s not the end of it though, these men are in our homes with us. They are beating us, raping us, killing us. We can’t escape them. The good ones aren’t signposted – we just have to trust you and it is the biggest and deadliest risk that we all take.”

Bucky nodded along with you, processing your words and affording you as much space to speak as possible. At first, he was just relieved that you hadn’t resumed your beating on the tree. Then, he began to really listen to you and consume your words and your fury. It horrified him.

In truth, he always appreciated that there was a disproportionate tendency in violence to women and that the world existed on a patriarchal system and that some men were just sexist pigs. Admittedly, this had gotten a lot better than things were in the 40s. However, he had never truly really given it much thought or considered how to change any of it. That was just the way things were. How does one go about revolutionising an entire system? Especially one that appeared to be changing over time as he had suspected.

He took a step forward, holding his arms out for you in case you needed some sanctuary. It was an offer you refused, standing awkwardly and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your mission jacket. Attempts to comfort you at this point were futile.

“I’m sorry, doll. I have never thought about it like that. I guess it’s because I’ve never had to.” Bucky began with a sympathetic look. “But you can’t do this all by yourself. You did something so good today and you should be proud of yourself for it.”

You sank to your knees, planting your palms in the dirt below you to try and restore some strength to your frail frame. He was right, but he’d never truly understand.

“I just feel so helpless, Bucky. I feel like I’m drowning and every time I put my head above water, someone pulls me back down again.” You explained with fresh, stinging tears. “I’m a fucking Avenger and even I can’t stop this.”

Bucky knelt on the ground in front of you with a sigh, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t make this better for you. It killed him to see his girl so heartbroken and defeated while he could do nothing about it.

“Those girls we saved are going to tell you their stories and you’re going to be upset and you’ll cry for them because you know what it’s like on a human level to be captured and forced to do something you don’t want to do. But you will never understand this pain and fear on a systematic level like I do! To know that you’re inherently in danger just because you were born a woman. I need to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

This time, when Bucky took you in his arms, you let him. The early exertions had exhausted your body and now you were ready to bury your face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling safe. The venting had alleviated some of the pain but it still persisted, bubbling discreetly under the surface of your skin, ready to boil again when you were next pushed.

Bucky pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. He appreciated that there was nothing he could say to make you feel better. Instead, he offered himself to you as comfort to take from him what you needed. The real effects of your headache and bloody knuckles came into fruition and you clenched your fists to deal with the physical pain while Bucky rocked you in a comforting motion.

“Promise me one thing, sweetheart?” Bucky asked and took your hum as permission to keep talking. “Promise me that no matter how tough this all gets; you don’t let it consume you. You are the best person I know and I will follow you into any mission, battle or war for this. But please don’t hurt yourself over it or try and deal with it on your own. I love you, please let me help. Tell me how I can be better.”

You held him so tightly that you might crush him, grateful for his support and his pledge of allegiance to your cause. Blinking away tears that threatened to fall you nodded against his neck so that he knew you had understood him.

“I promise. And, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Just know that all this anger and hatred I have towards men and how they treat us never applies to you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky held you there in that spot in the woods for what felt like hours until he eventually carried you home. Fatigue had overpowered your body but your brain was still active, already plotting and planning what you were going to do next and how you were going to use your Avenger status as an advantage.

You wouldn’t change the system overnight but you were going to do everything in your power to rally up as much support as possible. The pain and anger that was deep rooted inside you was converted to raw energy and you had the appetite to make a difference.

Female rage is a powerful thing.

#bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #fatws bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #female rage #feminist reader

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