ideasihadbutdontlike

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

The Barrel and the Bullet

Word Count: ~6,300

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Rescue, Happy Ending

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!cop reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, trauma, swearing, implied violence, emotional distress, claustrophobia, but ends with safety and love.

Based off the rookie: spoilers ahead kinda if you haven’t watched except I will not say who is involved in the actual show 😭😭

⸻

You missed roll call.

No one noticed at first , not until Morales came back from lunch and found a plain envelope sitting on the front desk. No name. No note. Just a USB drive inside.

When he plugged it in, the room fell silent.

The screen flickered to life.

You.

Stuffed into a dark plastic barrel, zip-tied, gagged, lip split. You weren’t dead, but you were close.

Shaking. Breathing like each breath was fire.

The camera panned slowly, deliberately. No sound. Just the hum of bad lighting. Then your gag was yanked off.

You didn’t scream.

Instead, with your eyes full of terror and defiance…

You began to sing.

“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”

Gasps in the room.

“But I… can’t help… falling in love with you.”

Then the screen cut to black.

Words appeared.

“Let’s see if your friends can find you before the song ends.”

⸻

Morales called the captain. The captain called D.C.

Which is how Bucky Barnes found out you were missing.

He’d been halfway through a mission debrief with Sam when he got the call, a special request from NYPD. Not officially his jurisdiction, but it didn’t matter.

Not when it was you.

You, who’d been the NYPD lead on their shared weapons trafficking case. You, who always matched him barb for barb, step for step. You, who laughed too loud and never let him shut himself off.

You, who Bucky hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the case started.

Now you were gone.

And someone was using your voice, your song, to taunt them.

⸻

NYPD created a joint task force that night. The captain wanted it hush-hush, no press. Just local detectives, federal support, and Bucky and Sam, who refused to sit this one out.

“This was retaliation,” Morales told them. “She busted one of their caches a week ago. Her name was all over the reports.”

“They’re not asking for money,” Sam noted. “This isn’t ransom.”

“No,” Bucky growled. “This is punishment.”

They reviewed the video again. It killed Bucky to watch it, but he didn’t look away.

“Pause there,” he said, pointing. “See that blinking red light?”

“Motion sensor,” Morales said. “Security brand. Outdated.”

“Pull building permit data,” Bucky snapped. “Anywhere that still uses those sensors. That’s your short list.”

“You sure you wanna be this involved?” Torres asked.

Bucky stared at the screen. “She sang to survive. I’m not going to let her die unheard.”

⸻

Your breath came short.

The inside of the barrel was too small, too dark. The plastic walls creaked every time you shifted. You felt the air thinning.

You couldn’t scream. Couldn’t waste oxygen.

So you sang.

It kept you sane. Kept you you.

When the barrel swayed from movement above, you flinched, expecting fists. But this time, all they did was shine a camera light on your face.

Red. Recording.

And you realized…

They were sending it to your team.

To Torres. Morales. The whole precinct. Maybe even…

No. You couldn’t think about Bucky. That hurt more than the bruises.

But still… you imagined his voice. That sarcastic, low drawl.

“Hey, that all you got?”

So you sang louder.

“Take my hand…”

You weren’t singing for them anymore.

You were singing for him.

⸻

Back at the precinct, another video arrived.

Same barrel. Different angle. Your voice weaker this time.

“Like a river flows…”

Torres slammed his fists against the wall and stormed out.

Bucky didn’t move.

Sam finally stepped forward. “You okay?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “No.”

He stood. Pacing. Like something in him was unspooling.

“I’ve watched her carry half this case alone. I watched her get put on hold every time she asked for backup. And now I’m watching her waste away in a fucking barrel while these bastards broadcast it—”

He broke.

His fists slammed the table.

“I never told her,” he whispered. “She made me feel something real again. And I just stood there pretending not to care.”

Sam’s voice was quiet. “Then don’t just stand now. Let’s go get her.”

⸻

Morales brought in a miracle.

“There’s audio distortion in the second video. Background hum, matches an outdated diesel generator.”

Torres jumped in. “There’s a condemned waste site in Queens. Whitestone Processing. Right near old train lines.”

“Pull the permits,” Bucky said. “Fast.”

The sensor brand? Still registered to the Whitestone property.

Sam nodded. “We’ve got her.”

The captain gave the green light. NYPD moved. ESU rolled. But Bucky didn’t wait.

He was already gone.

⸻

The waste site was rotting and silent.

Bucky burst through the chain fence like a bullet, sprinting toward the storage building with the reinforced padlock.

He barely noticed the fight around him, cops shouting, suspects running. Torres cuffed one of the men screaming about “the barrel.”

Then—

Singing.

Faint. Cracked.

“Darling so it goes… some things are meant to be…”

He ran harder.

A locked storage unit. Bucky ripped the door open with his bare hands.

There, in the middle of the dark room, was the barrel.

He crossed the distance in three steps and dropped to his knees.

“(Y/N)?!”

The lid groaned. Your face, pale and barely conscious, tilted up toward the light.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice cracking. “I got you.”

Your eyes fluttered. “You’re… real.”

“I’m real,” he promised, ripping the ties from your wrists, lifting you into his arms like you were sacred. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

You tried to smile. “Didn’t stop singing…”

He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I know,” he whispered.

⸻

You woke to white lights and soft beeping.

A warm weight was pressed against your leg.

Bucky.

Sleeping with his head resting on the bedrail, hand still clutching yours.

You blinked.

His eyes opened instantly. “Hey.”

“You stayed.”

“Not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard. “I thought I’d never get out. That I’d die with that song stuck in my throat.”

“But you didn’t,” he said. “You kept yourself alive.”

Tears welled. “Did you watch?”

“Every second.”

“I was scared I’d forget who I was. I hoped that you guys would figure it out. I knew… I knew you would make it.”

He moved closer. “You didn’t forget. You reminded us. I thought I lost you.” His breath hitched.

You reached for him, pulled him down.

“Say it.”

He exhaled, shaky and sure.

“I love you.”

⸻

You never watched the videos.

But Bucky kept a copy.

He only played it once. Just to remember the moment you held yourself together with nothing but memory and music.

A few months later, he found you on your rooftop, warm night air, Elvis playing from your phone, your hair caught in the breeze.

“Still your favorite?” he asked.

You turned, smiling softly.

“It brought you to me.”

And without missing a beat, you sang:

“For I… can’t help… falling in love with you.”

⸻

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

"Unspoken" Epilogue- The Living Room

Summary:

Three weeks after the mission, you and Bucky find quiet comfort in each other amid the chaos and laughter of your found family. Surrounded by teasing teammates and the warmth of home, he finally kisses you like a promise: soft, certain, and full of everything unspoken.

Three Weeks Later – Common Room, New Avengers Facility

The couch was too small.

Which made it perfect, really.

You were curled up against Bucky, legs draped across his lap, your head tucked under his chin. He absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair, his other hand resting lightly over your ribs, still healing, still treated like something sacred.

The room buzzed with energy.

Yelena was on the floor with Kate, both arguing passionately over which flavor of ice cream counted as “superior in a post-mission meltdown.” Alexei had taken over the kitchen and was shouting something about “real Russian comfort food” while attempting to sauté with a flamethrower. Bob and Kamala were trying to stop him.

And Sam had just walked in, taken one look at the chaos, and sighed the sigh of a man who missed the days when he only had to worry about Steve jumping out of planes without a parachute.

But no one disturbed you and Bucky.

He hadn’t left your side since you woke up. He was still learning how to exist without hovering, but he was trying. And you were letting him, piece by piece, shoulder by shoulder, heartbeat by heartbeat.

You reached up and tapped his nose. “You know, I never got that kiss you promised me.”

Bucky looked down at you, brow lifting. “The ‘gonna kill you, then kiss you, then kill you again’ one?”

“Mmhm.” You grinned. “I’d settle for the middle part.”

He didn’t hesitate this time.

The kiss was soft and certain, slow like it had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his voice was quiet.

“I’m gonna be real mad if you almost die again.”

You laughed. “Noted.”

Suddenly, Yelena shouted, “They’re kissing again! Someone get a room ready, we’re having a wedding by next Tuesday!”

The room erupted in cheers and dramatic applause. Alexei pumped his fist. Kamala squealed. Kate threw a pillow at Yelena. Sam covered his face with a dish towel and muttered, “I’m too old for this.”

Bucky groaned into your shoulder. “I regret everything.”

“You love everything,” you teased.

“Only you,” he said.

You turned into his arms, safe, warm, still healing, but alive. Together.

And somewhere between the noise, the laughter, the makeshift family that somehow kept growing, you realized:

This was what you’d almost died for. This was what you were living for. And it was worth every breath.

Even the ones that hurt.

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Home Isn't Always a Place

Derek Hale x Reader

The storm started the same moment your car died.

Figures.

You hadn’t even made it ten minutes outside of Beacon Hills before the universe decided to punish you for storming off.

You gripped the steering wheel and sighed, jaw still tight from the argument. Or rather, from his silence.

Derek Hale had a bad habit of shutting down when things got too real. You’d finally had enough of being treated like a stranger when you knew, you knew, you meant more to him than he let on. You called him out on it. On how he pulled away when things got soft. How he acted like protecting you was a duty, not a choice.

“You don’t let me in,” you’d snapped earlier that night. “You just guard me like I’m a mission, and I’m not. I’m a person who cares about you, Derek. Whether you want me to or not.”

And he hadn’t said a word. Just stared at you with those unreadable eyes until you gave up, grabbed your keys, and walked out into the rising storm.

Now here you were, stranded, cold, and mad at yourself for caring this much in the first place.

Then, headlights.

A sleek black Camaro pulled up behind you. Even through the haze of rain and regret, you recognized it instantly.

Derek Hale.

Leather jacket. Scowl. Wet hair already curling at the ends.

Of course.

He walked up and knocked on your window.

“Get in the car.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t get to order me around—”

“This road floods in minutes. Either get in, or I’m throwing you in.”

Still dramatic. Still Derek.

You muttered something under your breath but grabbed your bag and slid into the passenger seat of his car anyway.

The warmth was instant. His presence always carried heat, probably some werewolf thing, or maybe just a Derek thing.

“Thanks,” you said, voice tight. “Didn’t realize ‘emotional damage’ came with roadside assistance.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes on the road. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You just disappeared.”

“Wasn’t really in the mood after getting hit with the Derek Hale wall of silence.”

“I’m not good with words,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

You turned to him. “You said nothing.”

He met your eyes briefly, guilt flickering there. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You already had,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. But his jaw clenched tighter, like he wanted to scream and couldn’t figure out how. You didn’t push. Not yet.

When he pulled into the driveway of the rebuilt Hale house, you blinked in confusion.

“This isn’t my apartment.”

“You’re not going back there tonight,” he said. “You’re soaked, your car’s dead, and I’m not letting you spend the night alone.”

“I’m not made of glass, Derek.”

“No,” he said, parking the car. “But I already let you walk away once. I’m not doing it again.”

You stared at him a long moment before sighing. “Fine. One night.”

Inside, the house was warm. Dim. Lived in. You hadn’t been there since he started opening it back up.

He handed you a towel and a dry shirt. “You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this guilt hospitality, or…?”

“It’s ‘I care about you and don’t know how to say it without screwing it up’ hospitality,” he replied, deadpan.

You didn’t have a comeback.

—

You woke sometime after midnight, the room dark and quiet. You couldn’t sleep, not with his words echoing in your head.

You padded into the living room, finding him in front of the cold fireplace, a book open but unread.

“You’re not sleeping either?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t expect to.”

You sat beside him, closer this time.

“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier.”

“I was scared,” he admitted. “But I was angry too. Because I pushed you to leave.”

You looked at him, surprised by the confession.

“I thought keeping distance would keep you safe,” he continued. “But it just kept me empty.”

You swallowed hard, heart aching.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped caring,” you said. “I left because it felt like you didn’t.”

His eyes met yours, tired, searching. “You’re the only part of this place that feels like home.”

The words hit deeper this time.

You reached for his hand. “So let me stay. Not just tonight.”

He kissed you, soft, certain, like he’d been waiting years for the courage.

In the quiet after, tangled in each other on the couch, you whispered:

“You talk too much.”

He smiled against your forehead. “You love it.”

And you did.

Because storms passed. Pain healed. And sometimes, home wasn’t four walls.

It was him. And you were already there.

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Lost In Time – Part I: Through the Rift

Summary: A young demigod’s last stand in battle goes awry, and they find themselves thrown thirteen years into the future—into a world filled with superheroes instead of monsters. Percy Jackson/Avengers AU. Word Count: ~1,150 Characters: Reader (child of Apollo), Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, The Avengers, Apollo, Dr. Strange Setting: Camp Half-Blood / Stark Tower (future)

Pain. That was the first thing you felt.

Not just physical pain, though your muscles were screaming and your shirt clung to you, soaked in sweat and Hydra blood, but the kind of bone-deep ache that came from two weeks of fighting without rest. You were limping, your arrows nearly depleted, but Camp Half-Blood was just ahead. So close, the strawberry fields looked like salvation.

You loosed one final arrow mid-turn, nailing a hydra slithering up behind Percy.

“Y/N—LOOK OUT!”

Your name tore through the air as the ground vanished beneath your feet. You barely had time to scream before the orange sparks exploded at your feet and pulled you into nothingness.

“Percy! Annabeth!”

Your voice echoed through blackness.

You were weightless. Spinning. Falling.

And then. Concrete.

A sharp thud knocked the breath from your lungs. Alarms rang in your head. You gasped, curled inward on instinct, every nerve firing. Your arms burned from the impact, your quiver crushed beneath you. Still, instinct overruled exhaustion, and you forced yourself to your knees.

Where were you?

You looked up, blinking through blurred vision, only to be met with the wide-eyed stares of several strangers. Men and women, dressed not in armor or camp shirts, but sleek metal suits and tactical gear. They looked like they’d stepped off a movie poster.

One of them stepped forward, cautious but calm. “Y/N?”

Your breath caught. “Who are you?”

“Easy, kid,” said a man with a goatee and an overly smug expression. “We’re not the bad guys.”

Your eyes narrowed. Your bow, splintered, was still within reach. “That’s exactly what someone who kidnapped me would say.”

The strangers exchanged glances.

“Y/N,” another voice cut in, this one smoother, more deliberate. A tall man in a cloak stepped forward. “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. You’re in New York City. And… you’re thirteen years in the future.”

You stood up sharply, ignoring the pain. “What?”

Strange held up his hands. “You fell through a temporal rift. One I was monitoring. You shouldn’t be here, but we’re working on sending you back.”

“Where’s Percy? Annabeth?” you demanded, panic building. “Did they make it?”

“They’re safe. Returned to Camp Half-Blood two minutes after you disappeared.”

You exhaled shakily, your magic flickering dimly around you. The glowing aura that came with your godly heritage dimmed, though it still pulsed faintly. Your nerves weren’t ready to relax.

One of the strangers, tall, muscled, blonde, stepped forward, arms crossed. “You know her?”

Before Strange could answer, the room erupted in golden light. You turned toward it instinctively, shielding your eyes.

“Apollo,” you muttered.

“Still dramatic as ever,” said the god, smirking as he stepped through the balcony doors like he owned the place.

Blond Guy stared. “And who are you supposed to be?”

Apollo smiled. “You haven’t heard of me? Shame. You’d love me.”

Your stomach twisted. Apollo’s last visit had been on your ninth birthday, when he called you his “prodigy” and vanished into the sunset. You were seventeen now.

Apollo turned to you, expression dimming with concern. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You mean place or time?”

He winked. “That’s classified, sunshine. But you’ll be okay.”

“That’s your version of reassurance?” you muttered.

Tony, the goatee guy, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so you know this guy?”

You ignored him. “Dad, get me out of here. Please.”

“I would,” Apollo said, eyes flicking to Strange, “but I’m under strict orders not to interfere with mortal temporal events.”

Strange stepped forward, arms behind his back. “I’ll return her as soon as we locate this timeline’s version of her. We… lost her.”

“Wait, what?” you blinked. “You lost me?”

“Future you,” Tony clarified. “You work with us. Or did. And now you’re missing.”

“Lovely,” you muttered. “Time travel and identity theft.”

Apollo clapped you on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine, sunshine.” He offered a surprisingly sincere smile, then turned and walked into the sky like he always did.

You stared at the open air behind him. “He’s so good at leaving.”

“Hey, uh, kid?” the blonde guy said, pointing at your wrist.

You looked down.

A golden bracelet shimmered against your skin. Delicate charms dangled from it: an arrow, a lyre, a sun.

Steve, because apparently that was Captain America, cleared his throat. “What’s it do?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, fingers tracing the sun charm. “But I think I’m about to find out.”

You tugged gently.

The bracelet flared with celestial light, transforming in your hand. You stumbled back as a golden laurel crown shimmered atop your head, a pure celestial gold bow forming in your grasp. A quiver slung itself over your shoulder, stocked with arrows humming with divine energy.

You turned to the reflective window.

There you stood, radiant, golden, armored like something out of legend.

You looked like a goddess.

The room was silent.

Then, you turned back to Strange.

“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

To be continued…

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

“Unspoken” — Part V: What If We Walk Away

The medical wing was dark, save for the dim blue light over your bed. It was well past midnight.

You were awake again.

Pain was dull now, manageable. Your ribs ached, your arm itched under the bandages, and your throat still burned when you spoke too much. But none of that compared to the silence that had settled between you and Bucky.

He hadn’t left the room, not really. But the version of him that stayed—he was distant. Careful. Quiet in a way that was too quiet, even for him.

And tonight, something told you the weight of it was going to break.

You found him on the cot they’d rolled in days ago. He wasn’t sleeping. Just sitting on the edge, elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Bucky.”

He looked up instantly. Always on alert. Always watching you.

You patted the side of your bed. “Come here.”

He hesitated. Then obeyed, sitting carefully on the edge like he was afraid of hurting you.

You studied him in the low light. The shadows made the lines on his face deeper. His eyes were ringed with exhaustion. Guilt. Something worse.

“You’re here,” you said softly. “But you’re not really here with me.”

His eyes dropped. He didn’t answer.

“I know you blame yourself,” you continued. “For not being able to save me and the city.”

“I made a choice,” he said, voice hoarse. “And when I got back to you, you weren’t breathing.”

You reached out and covered his hand with yours.

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You did the right thing, Bucky. I would’ve done the same.”

He let out a broken breath, like it physically pained him to hear that.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “And I - I don’t know how to love someone if I can’t keep them safe anymore.”

You looked at him carefully. “Is that what this is about? You think we shouldn’t do this anymore?”

He was silent.

Then he said, “If I walk away now, I won’t have to watch you almost die again.”

You flinched. “So you’d rather be miserable alone than risk being happy and losing it?”

His jaw clenched. “I’ve lost everything before.”

“But you haven’t lost me,” you said, voice breaking now. “Not yet. And if you walk away, Bucky… you’ll be the one doing it this time.”

Silence thickened between you.

“I love you,” you said. “Even if I die tomorrow. I love you now.”

He blinked hard, his breath stuttering. His fingers closed around yours like he was holding onto a ledge.

“I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up,” he admitted. “Without hurting you. Without being terrified every second that something will take you from me.”

You reached up and cupped his jaw gently, guiding his forehead to yours.

“Then be terrified. But stay.”

His voice cracked. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” you said. “We either choose each other, or we don’t.”

He closed his eyes. His breathing was shaky.

Then his arms wrapped around you carefully, like you were glass, but his glass, and he pulled you into him.

His voice was a whisper against your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You curled into him, pressing your face into his chest. “Good. Because I don’t want to wake up without you again.”

He held you like an anchor, like the only thing tethering him to this world was you.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“I am too.”

“But I love you more.”

You smiled through your tears. “Then that’s enough.”

⸻

The next morning, when Yelena peeked in and found Bucky asleep in your bed—his arms wrapped around you, face pressed to your shoulder—she backed out quietly, mouthing a dramatic “Finally” to herself.

But she didn’t tell anyone.

Some things, even in this world, were sacred.

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

“Unspoken” — Part IV: In the Silence

The explosion wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not there, not then—not when Bucky had just told you to hold position. Not when you’d just turned around and smiled at him over your shoulder like you always did, like you’d be right back.

He heard your scream over the comms before he saw you fall.

Three Days Earlier – The Mission

The evacuation was still in process when the device activated. A modified Stark reactor, hijacked and repurposed, set to blow the energy core of the entire plaza if they didn’t shut it down.

Bucky was on the north side, holding the perimeter.

You were on the south, guiding civilians.

And then came the transmission: “Barnes, you’re closer to the core. If we don’t stop it in the next 90 seconds, it’ll take the whole district.”

He hesitated for only a second.

He knew where you were, across the plaza, backup barely arriving, a second threat closing in from behind you. He heard your voice:

“I’ve got this side! Go!”

It wasn’t just a command. It was trust. You trusted him to make the right call.

So he ran.

And you didn’t.

⸻

Now – Medical Wing, HQ

The room smelled like antiseptic and heartbreak.

Machines beeped in soft rhythm. A heart monitor, the only evidence that you were still here.

You’d been unconscious for three days.

Broken ribs, a head injury, internal bleeding, and burns down your left arm from shielding a child who didn’t make it.

Yelena sat curled in a chair by the door, one leg slung over the armrest, face tight and unreadable. She’d barely left.

Alexei brought flowers that were currently crushed under a tray of untouched soup.

Bob floated in once, stayed ten minutes, and whispered, “She’s the heart of this team. You all orbit her, whether you realize it or not.”

And Bucky?

He hadn’t left the room.

Not once.

He sat beside you like a sentinel, like a man guarding a grave he refused to let exist. His left hand clutched yours gently, bandages soft between your fingers. His right arm rested on the bed rail.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered for the tenth time that hour.

“I chose the city,” he said again, voice cracking. “I chose them over you.”

He hadn’t slept.

His face was hollow with guilt, with fear, with that old instinct to destroy anything that made him feel too much.

Yelena had tried to drag him away, once.

“She wouldn’t want you like this.”

He hadn’t looked at her when he answered.

“She wouldn’t want to wake up alone, either.”

Day Four – When You Wake

Your first thought was light. Too bright.

Then pain. Then the weight of something warm around your fingers.

Then his voice.

“Hey—hey, hey—stay with me, come on.”

You blinked slowly, vision swimming.

Bucky’s face came into focus. Pale. Red-rimmed. Eyes filled with more emotion than you could process all at once.

You tried to speak. Only a whisper came out. “You look like shit.”

A breath left his body like a laugh and a sob wrapped into one. His forehead dropped to the side of your pillow.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he said softly. “Then I’m gonna kiss you. Then I’m gonna kill you again.”

You smiled. “Sounds romantic.”

He pulled back, eyes wide, searching.

“You know who I am?”

“I’d recognize your brooding anywhere,” you rasped.

And then his lips were on your knuckles.

Hours Later – The Room Fills Up

Yelena barged in first with a dramatic gasp. “She lives! I told you she’s too stubborn to die!”

Alexei followed, setting down an entire roasted chicken. “You need protein. Chicken heals everything.”

Bob hovered in after, quiet and golden as sunlight. “Glad you’re still orbiting.”

John came in last, trying not to look shaken. “You scared the hell out of all of us, you know.”

You smiled weakly. “I missed you guys.”

Yelena kissed your temple and whispered, “He didn’t leave your side.”

You looked at Bucky.

He was sitting again, hands in his lap. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed to hold you now that you were awake.

“Hey,” you said, reaching out.

He met your hand halfway.

“I heard what you said,” you murmured, just for him. “You didn’t choose the city over me. You chose what I would’ve chosen. I told you to go.”

He closed his eyes. His voice was a rasp. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

“I’m here, Bucky. I’m alive.”

“I didn’t know if I could survive losing you.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

You pulled him closer until his forehead pressed against yours.

“Not even close.”

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

“Unspoken” – Part II: Morning Light

The sunlight slipped through the cracked blinds, painting soft golden stripes across the bed sheets, across his back, across the space where your hand rested just above his heart.

Bucky Barnes was still.

Not in the way you’d seen him freeze before—a soldier scanning for threats, holding back instincts, but in a rare kind of peace. His breathing slow, his face unguarded. He looked younger like this. Almost untouched.

Your fingers brushed along the metal plates of his arm where flesh met vibranium. You’d traced the seam the night before without thinking, and he hadn’t pulled away.

Now, he stirred beneath your touch.

“Are you watching me sleep?” he rasped, voice sleep-rough and amused.

“Maybe.” You smiled into his shoulder. “Didn’t know you snored.”

He rolled his eyes, still not opening them. “I don’t.”

“You definitely do.”

“You’re making it up to get out of admitting how fast you fell asleep.”

You snorted, burying your face against his skin. For once, there was no mission. No sirens in your head. No pretending. Just quiet. A quiet that made you want to cry and never leave.

“I mean it,” he murmured after a long pause. “Last night… I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You looked up then, and his eyes were on you; open, honest, no walls.

“It wasn’t just sex,” you said gently. “We’ve been… building to that for years.”

“I was scared it would change everything,” he admitted.

“Bucky,” you whispered, cupping his jaw, “it did. But not in the bad way.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. No urgency. Just reverence.

But peace never lasts long around here.

You were halfway down the hall toward the kitchen, barefoot, Bucky one step behind you, hoodie thrown on over his bare chest. When you heard the unmistakable clink of cereal in a bowl and the crunch of someone who did not care how early it was.

Yelena.

She was perched on the counter, legs swinging lazily, spoon in her mouth, wearing a sarcastic expression like it was her armor.

Her gaze landed on you. Then Bucky. Then back again.

Her eyes narrowed.

Bucky blinked.

You said nothing.

She crunched louder.

“Interesting,” she said finally, setting the spoon down. “Very interesting.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Morning, Yelena.”

“Mhm,” she said, hopping off the counter. “Did not expect this pairing, but you know what? I support chaos.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but she raised a finger.

“Wait. Don’t tell me. I want to imagine how it started. Was it a sparring session? A brush of the hand while disarming a bomb? Or did you both just finally stop being cowards?”

You covered your face with your hands.

Bucky muttered, “Definitely that last one.”

Yelena grinned. “Good. You both deserve something… real. Even if you’re awful at hiding it.”

She was already walking away, bowl in hand, muttering something about “sex hair and tension so thick it fogged the hallway.”

When she was gone, Bucky turned to you, lips twitching into a smile.

“Think she’s going to tell Natasha?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

You sighed and leaned into his side.

“Too late to back out now,” he said.

You looked up at him.

“Good,” you whispered. “I’m not running anymore.”

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

“Unspoken” — Part III: Jealousy looks good on you

The conference room was a neutral sea of beige: beige walls, beige suits, beige coffee. You were regretting your choice to come instead of letting Bob handle it. But intel briefings were part of the job, and you were trying to be… professional.

Unfortunately, Liam from MI6 didn’t seem to care about professionalism.

“Sorry,” he said, brushing a little too close as you reached for coffee. “Didn’t see you there.”

You gave a tight smile. “No harm done.”

“You’re with the new team, right? The one with Barnes and Belova?”

You nodded slowly.

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Bit of a dark crowd. You seem brighter. Refreshing, even.”

You took a small step back. “I’m right where I want to be.”

That should’ve been it. But then he added, “Maybe you could tell me more over dinner?”

You opened your mouth to answer, politely, but someone beat you to it.

Metal fingers closed around your coffee cup. The air behind you shifted.

“Coffee’s bad here anyway,” came a voice low and tight with edge.

You turned to find Bucky, standing too close, too still.

His eyes didn’t leave Liam.

“Mr. Barnes,” Liam said, blinking. “Didn’t see you there.”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Apparently, you don’t see much.”

You elbowed him lightly. “It’s fine. We were just—”

“We’re leaving,” he said simply, placing your coffee back in your hand, barely looking at you.

You didn’t argue, because his tone said not now. So you followed, confused… and maybe a little thrilled?

Back at HQ (justice for stark tower 😭)

By the time you got back, the others were sprawled across the lounge like it was a lazy Sunday.

Yelena had her boots on the coffee table, eating gummy bears with a smirk that already knew too much.

Alexei was upside-down in an armchair doing some kind of neck stretch.

Bob was floating three inches off the ground reading a dog-eared paperback.

John was polishing his shield like a man trying way too hard to stay out of drama.

Yelena spotted you first, and then Bucky trailing behind, jaw set tight.

“Well, well,” she said, loud enough to start trouble. “Did someone threaten the MI6 boy or did he just wet himself from the glare of doom?”

Alexei perked up. “You make face like that at me once. I throw soup at wall.”

Bob didn’t even look up from his book. “Barnes. Jealousy’s not subtle on you.”

Bucky scowled. “He was being disrespectful.”

“Really?” John chimed in with a dry grin. “Because it looked a lot like you wanted to throw him through a table.”

“I still might,” Bucky muttered.

You raised a brow, arms crossed. “So that’s what that was?”

Bucky didn’t look at you. “He was all over you.”

You walked toward him slowly, ignoring Yelena’s very obvious camera phone lift.

“You know I wasn’t interested, right?”

His shoulders tensed, then dropped.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I liked seeing someone act like they had a chance.”

You stopped in front of him. “You could’ve just said that.”

He met your eyes finally. “Didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

The softness in his voice hit you right in the ribs.

Behind you, Alexei whispered, “Ohhh noooo. He is soft again. I hate when he is soft.”

Bob floated lazily past, adding, “Let the man have feelings, Red Guardian. It’s character development.”

Yelena rolled a gummy bear between her fingers. “If this ends in a kiss, I’m charging for tickets.”

You leaned up on your toes and kissed Bucky’s cheek, soft, deliberate.

He caught your wrist gently before you stepped back.

Then he kissed you. Slow. Certain.

Alexei immediately covered his eyes. “They are doing the thing! In common area! Why always here?!”

John groaned. “I’m getting a beer.”

Yelena grinned. “I ship it. Officially.”

Bucky pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breathing a little shaky.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “You’re the only one I see.”

You smiled against his lips. “You’re not half bad at this whole relationship thing. And I think jealousy looks good on you.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured. “It’ll ruin my reputation.”

Behind you, Bob called, “Too late.”

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

“Unspoken” Pt.1

This has been in my drafts forever lol.

Summary:

You and Bucky Barnes have worked side by side in the field and in training rooms for years—tight partners, sharp timing, a rhythm that feels natural… maybe even dangerous. There’s always been something under the surface. But neither of you have dared to touch it. Until one night, something gives.

The punching bag creaked again under the weight of his blow. You didn’t look up, you didn’t need to. You could recognize the sound of Bucky’s fists anywhere. Solid. Relentless. Angry in a way he rarely let show on his face.

You were sitting on the floor of the training room, lacing your boots, trying not to watch him. But you always watched him. Everyone did. He carried pain like it was part of his armor, and somehow it only made him more magnetic.

“I’m surprised that bag’s still standing,” you said, voice low.

He didn’t answer right away. Another thud. Then another.

“I’m going easy on it.”

You smirked to yourself, but when you glanced up, he was staring at you. Sweat ran down his neck. Hair a little messy. Breathing hard. That look in his eyes—not dark, not soft, just searching. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Something on your mind, Barnes?”

“Same thing that’s always there,” he muttered.

You stood, wiping your hands on your thighs. “Cryptic. As usual.”

He moved toward you then, slowly. No gloves, knuckles red. The kind of walk that made you forget how to breathe until he stopped just close enough for it to hurt.

“You ever get tired of pretending?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t respond.

He was always like this, almost. Touches that lingered too long, silences that said too much. The way his jaw clenched when other people flirted with you. The way your heart sprinted every time he leaned in close.

But nothing ever happened. Because neither of you would let it. Too risky. Too complicated.

You swallowed hard. “Pretending what?”

“That we don’t feel it,” he said simply.

You blinked. The air between you felt electric.

“Bucky…” you started, but your voice cracked. “We can’t. You know what happens to people who get close.”

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt,” he said. “I’m afraid of not having this. Whatever this is. I can’t keep burying it anymore. Not when I feel it every time I look at you.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way that made something inside you ache.

“I’ve spent too long thinking I didn’t deserve anything good,” he went on, softer now. “But you… you’re the only thing that’s ever made me want to fight for something more than just survival.”

Silence fell. He was inches away. If you leaned forward just a little, your foreheads would touch.

Your voice barely made it out. “I’ve wanted you since the first mission. And I’ve hated living with that uncertainty and fear.

His hand brushed your cheek, hesitant, trembling slightly like he didn’t believe he was allowed. “Then let’s bet be afraid anymore, eh.”

The kiss wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t rough either. It was like holding back a storm for too long and finally letting the rain fall. A release. A plea. A thousand moments of tension cracking open all at once.

It didn’t fix everything. But it felt like everything.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“We’re gonna mess this up, aren’t we?” you whispered.

“Probably,” he said. “But I’m not afraid to try.”

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

City Lights

Description: Reader was trained in the art of martial arts by the infamous Sticks, the very same leader who trained the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. The reader gets caught up with Shield and decided to become an Agent. On this particular mission, they’re sent out to Russia with Bucky Barnes on two separate missions. A simple in and out. But Bucky is never far behind; how could he be when the reader is his whole entire world?

Bucky Barnes X Reader

The ever-growing volume of the drumming footsteps beneath you left you with little time to find a way out. You were stuck; the only place left to go was the door you entered through, and judging by the army on your tail, that was not an option. The watch on your wrist beeped the signal, a response to your mayday. But the room around you was cold and unforgiving. Surrounded by concrete and steel, there wasn’t a lick of light to be found. And soon, the marching of hurried footsteps faded away, and all you could hear was the drumming of your heartbeat. Instinctively, you reached for your gun. 

Kill or be killed. You’re a weapon. Get. Up. 

Your training rushed back, hitting you at once—Stick’s voice booming in your ear. 

Your environment is your greatest weapon. 

You crept out of the room, listening closely to the drum of the men coming your way. You slipped behind the door to the room. The dim light of the hall allowed just enough visibility to see the shadows rushing up on the wall next to you. 

Listen, Dammit! Get your head outta’ your ass and listen. 

There were footsteps, barely there, far behind, familiar 5th floor. Far different from the intense thudding of boots heading your way. You could see them now. And backup was only two floors down. 

The Russian idiots hunting you were just as stupid as you hoped. And it stung that they got the drop on you, honestly. They all made wide, blind turns into the cinder-block prison. 

6th floor, faster now. 

You readied your gun, waiting for the right moment. The door was the thinnest piece of wood you’d ever seen, so your plan was either slam the door and run and hope they stall; or go in guns blazing. You decided the latter was significantly cooler, and if fate decided today was your last, then you would much prefer a warrior's death. The men, there were 11 of them, previously 16. You had taken the others out earlier. They yelled at each other, frantically looking for a light source to spot you. 

About time. His footsteps, while still silent as a mouse, were much quicker now. He was around the corner.

You quietly slipped from behind the door, careful to stay out of sight. You had a clear sight towards the end of the hall. When Bucky turned the corner, you held your finger up to your lips, and pointed to your gun and the room. He nodded. Lining himself up with the opposite side of the door. 

“Пизда” 

Bucky bit his tongue. You nodded, and both spun towards the entrance, trigger-happy. Between the both of you, it was a matter of seconds before the only heartbeats left were yours and Bucky’s. Releasing your trigger, you adjusted your gun back to its rightful place between your shoulders. 

“Believe it or not,” you laughed, “I had it handled.” 

Bucky scoffed and motioned toward the mass grave you shot down, “clearly.” But his voice was light, because he knew you did. This was light work for you, nothing you haven’t done before. “How did they get you, though?” You took a harsh, weary breath. 

“There was a picture in the command room, they had it on the bulletin board. It was me, a few months ago, with my little brother in New York.” The thought of what that meant sent a shiver down your spine. Whatever the Russians were planning, you were going to figure it out. “It is actually a great picture of us, though; I’m gonna go steal it.” You said, turning around to make your way back downstairs. Bucky laughed, following suit. 

With the picture tucked safely in your jacket pocket, along with anything else you guys could find that might have helped, you walked through the dim and dirty halls out to the front entrance. 

You stopped once you were a few miles away. Tugging on Bucky’s arm, you urged him to look at you. “Look,” you nodded to your right, where the city rested below you. “We’re here so often, but I don’t think I’ve ever stopped and saw something so beautiful.” You whispered. “I never thought I would find a Russian city, one where I’ve just killed men who are planning to bomb other cities and come after my family. A city where I know Hydra lies dormant, and so much shady shit happens. The city has no right to be so beautiful.” 

Bucky looked between you and the city, the mountain you were on casting the perfect glow on both of you. Yeah, he figured you did have a point even he couldn’t deny it. But right now, as he looked at you, he saw the lights twinkling back into your eyes. The city was beautiful sure, but you were there, moonlight kissing your cheeks, captivated by the city lights. He wondered if he would ever find anything as beautiful as that. He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. 

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Nothing I wouldn’t Do

Bucky Barnes 

“Gross”

Bucky grunted in agreement.

The two of you were at a local restaurant watching a couple feed each other desert. Complete with giggles and smiles bigger than their faces. The woman shrieked slightly as some of the chocolate drips down her dress.

You and Bucky look away quickly, trying your best to hide your laughter.

“Don’t ever do that to me. I swear I’ll shoot you,” you said.

Bucky laughed. “I have a metal arm,” he pointed. “You’d miss,” he sassed.

“mmm, I don’t think so,” you sassed. 

“Alright,” he laughed, “so what if you’re sick, and just staying awake takes up all your energy? What about then?” His head was tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows raised in playful accusation. 

You shook your head at him, failing to hide your smile. “I might just have to starve,” you said. You knew though, that Bucky despite his hard exterior would always do whatever he needed to help you. 

He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips, “yeah, ok.” 

He knew it too. He would go against your every wish if it meant he could save you. It was selfish, and sometimes he felt that it was too much, but then he looked at you, and he saw the gleam in your eye as you watched that couple for the corner of your eye. He knew there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for you. 

Bucky sighed dramatically, twirling his fork like it was one of his knives. You bit your tongue, watching him dig into the pasta in front of him.  

“You know I’m gonna have to it now, right?” He squinted at you, glaring playfully. 

“Barnes,” you smirked, “I’d like to see you try.” 

------------

Ahh i needed to get back into writing and I havent done anything for Bucky in a hot minute. 

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

are u gonna do a sequel to troublesome 4s? i just want to see some sort of resolution to maven hitting his mom besides a goodnight, also the reader being pregnant again? her feelings about not wanting the second kid now was not resolved besides buckys internal monologue about needing to treat reader better.

Hi! Unfortunately, I'm not. As much as I would love to because gods know I live for domestic Bucky. Of course, children need discipline. I've just experienced too much negative feedback, so many people suggesting such harsh and borderline cruel punishments for a toddler that I just leave that up for interpretation honestly.

For example, I once published something where a kid hit her uncle, and the uncle pushed her, and yelled in her face. So many people told me it wasn't enough, he should've beat her.

Another when I wrote about a middle school boy and he lashed out, I made him angry; he yelled at his parents. The father hit him and gave him a chore list. That wasn't enough. They should've grounded him longer, taken more away, and so on.

Anyway, I just wanted to share my experience and explain that particular situation. It's actually why I don't write too much about kids and conflict.

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Calm and Cozy

Derek Hale x Reader 

Summary: Soft and sweet, reader comes home worn out after an exhausting day at work. Broken down, all they can think about is warmth, relaxation, and Derek.

mention of sensory overload and reckless driving

The drive home was always the most dangerous part of your day. Fighting monsters daily felt like nothing compared to going home after your shift. But, it was calm after nine hours on your feet non-stop. 

You worked the night shift today, finally leaving your job close to 1 a.m. The pain in your joints was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You sped through town, ignoring, dazed, letting your body autopilot your way home. Thoughts of a warm shower and the cozy bed waiting for you. You always wondered if Derek would be awake when you got there. Most nights, he waited up for you to make sure you made it home okay. Sometimes he fell asleep, waking just as you closed the front door. 

You smile at the thought of him; it distracts you from the aching in your muscles and the swelling of your feet.  Before you know it, the car is parked, and you’re opening the door to the loft. 

Derek looked towards the door from his spot on the bed. He closed the book he was reading, taking in your appearance. Your hair wasn’t messy, but it was out of place. Your shoulders curled forward, caving in on your frame, making you look smaller and worn out. He felt the wave of pain emanate from you, and he winced. He saw the bags under your eyes and the slight tremor in your hands as you tucked your shoes and jacket in their respective spots. He sighed lightly, admiring you, even in your current state of distress.

 You smiled at him, and he saw the shift in your demeanor. 

Your body relaxed when you saw him. Some of the tension left your shoulders, and your eyes seemed to sparkle. The smile on your lips was enough to erase the exhaustion on your face. 

He got up, moving towards you with his arms open slightly, inviting you into his embrace. You practically collapsed into him. Holding onto him like he was your lifeline. You didn’t notice the tear that escaped, rolling down your face. 

Derek wrapped his arms around you, holding you tighter. Afraid you would fall apart if he let go of you too soon. He picked you up and moved to the couch, where he held you- your head buried in his chest- for as long as you let him. 

Eventually, you pulled away, sighing at the loss of warmth. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you whispered. Afraid that if you spoke any louder, you would cry. Days like this --when the lights seemed too bright, and the customers too loud, the time going far too slow, and the rush seemingly never-ending -- those days were the worst. They bruised a part of your soul that needed nurturing and tending too. Something that went much faster with warm showers and Derek.  

Derek stood up, taking you with him. Not wanting to argue, you held onto his neck. He took you to the bathroom, gently set you down on the counter, and started the shower. 

You watched him with a smile as you took in his actions. This was what he did to tell you he loved you. He was never good with his words and would never rely on them to get his point across. He told you, of course, but this is what he did best. 

After your shower you slipped into Derek’s shirt he brought in. Washed your face and brushed your teeth and hair. Finally, you could just cuddle up in bed, surrounded by comfort, wrapped up in the sheets and Derek’s arms. 

He would never tell you, but he made a habit of taking some of your pain away to put you to sleep after a rough day. He’d do it slowly and he’d make sure you didn’t know. He loved that he could help you like that. That he could ease the pain, physically and emotionally at the same time. 

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

HC- Derek’s Kinks

1. BDSM

Derek would be into bondage, holding you down, tying you up, shoving his shirt or something in your mouth. He likes being in control, having his way with you. He’s also a bit of a masochist. He goes wild for hair pulling, and your nails digging into him.

2. Auralism (Sounds) 

He’s obsessed with the sounds you make while he teases you. Hearing the whimpers, and moans that leave you. He likes to hear how wet you are when he fingers you.

3. Nipple Play

This man adores you, every single part of you really he does, but his favorite thing to do is tease your nipples. He’ll lick and bite, trace then with his tongue and his fingers. 

He also likes when you tease his nipples. Something he didn’t realize he liked until he met you. 

4. Spanking

Going back to bdsm, Derek has a thing for discipline. He’ll spank you if you act up in public, or around the pack. If you tease him around the pack is when this side of him really comes out, with your consent of course. 

5. Praise

He loves to tell you how good you are for him, how well you take him, how perfect you look with his cock in your mouth. 

He also likes to hear it. It’s something none of his exes did and at first he didn’t even realize he was turned on by it. Hearing you tell him how good he makes you feel, your words or gasps of encouragement to keep going. It gives him drive, and he likes to know that he makes you feel good. 

6. Edging/Overstimulation 

Derek Hale is mean. Sometimes, if he’s feeling mischievous or whatever, he will stimulate you for hours. He had you going through the night once. He finally let you come once the sun began to rise. He’ll edge you until tears run down your face. He’ll also try out new things this way, find out mew ways to keep you cumming until you almost pass out. 

Derek likes yo use his strength a lot, he’ll hold you up against the wall, or pin you to the counter or the bed, where ever you guys are, he’ll make a show of how strong he is. This is something he does almost every time you have sex. He likes the way you giggle and squeal and squirm in his grip. 

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Teen Wolf

Day Dreams - Derek Hale X Reader smut 

Derek’s girlfriend can’t seem to focus on anything other than him. So much so that she can barely get anything done. 

Calm and Cozy - Derek Hale x Reader Fluff

Soft and sweet, reader comes home worn out after an exhausting day at work. Broken down, all they can think about is warmth, relaxation, and Derek.

mention of sensory overload and reckless driving

Headcanons: 

Derek’s Kinks 

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Marvel

Marvel Universe/ Marvel AUs:

marvel/Percy Jackson

Lost In Time  - A crossover between the marvel universe and Percy Jackson, when 17 year old child of Apollo meets the Avengers ahead of her time.

Lost In Time pt. 2

Bucky Barnes:

You - This is the story of how you met and fell in love with James Barnes.

Happier - On a visit to Wakanda, you feel unworthy of Bucky Barnes.

Troublesome Fours - When Bucky is called to a mission in the middle of the night, his 4 year old is a nightmare to answer to.

Sleep - Reader can’t sleep and is embarrassed to tell Bucky the one solution that might work

Nothing I wouldn’t Do - sweet sarcasm on a date with James Barnes. 

City Lights - Reader was trained in the art of martial arts by the infamous Sticks, the very same leader who trained the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. The reader gets caught up with Shield and decided to become an Agent. On this particular mission, they’re sent out to Russia with Bucky Barnes on two separate missions. A simple in and out. But Bucky is never far behind; how could he be when the reader is his whole entire world? 

Cookies - just a quick little blurb of baking holiday cookies with Bucky. 

Steve Rogers:

Seclusion - Steve and the reader have met before, in the forties actually. He’s one of the few people in the world who knows what she’s capable of, and it’s his death that pushed her over the edge.

[ideasihadbutdontlike]

Day Dreams

Derek Hale x F! Reader 

SMUT

Summary: Derek’s girlfriend finds herself unable to think about anything other than him. So much so that she can barely get anything done. Smut

All day your mind wandered. It was distracting to say the least, but mostly it was annoying, you had a job to do, a job you loved and all you could think about was the heat between your legs. And the big bad wolf waiting for you at home. It was insatiable really. The minute you woke up you were horny. 

Your thoughts flashed memories of Derek shirtless on your bed, hovering over you. Of Derek working out, leaving you to memorize every ridge of his back. The tattoo that you scratched so often.

You thought of him under you, staring up at you through your breasts. God the thought made you squirm. He loved to suck on your nipples. Teasing you relentlessly, and you loved every minute of it. 

You thought about Derek, with his head between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it. 

 His face buried in your tits.

His fingers, dancing up your thighs.

 All you could think about was him. And then, the bastard had the audacity to show his face.

 “Hello,” your co-worker, Jenna, waved. “Earth to Y/n,” she laughed, “What is going on with you today?” 

You shook your head, trying your best to stay focused on her, and the pastries you were baking. “Nothing, what’s up?” 

She looked at you, and you knew she didn’t believe a word you said. In her defense, you’re always so in tune with your surroundings at work, so in tune that you would have never missed the timer on a single batch of cookies, let alone two. And you sure as hell wouldn’t have missed Derek Hale walking in the door.

 “Your boyfriends here,” she smiled, pointing at the counter. 

Your eyes went wide, and you felt your already elevated heartbeat quicken. You looked over and saw Derek with a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk you knew all too well. 

“Hi,” he said. And you stood there like a deer in headlights. 

God, he looks so good, you thought. 

“Hey!” you said, a little too much enthusiasm to play it off. Besides, you knew he could smell you. “Did you want anything?” 

“Just you,” he smiled. Still watching you in amusement as you acted like his presence wasn’t making you weak in the knees. Your throat was dry, desperately searching for words. 

 “How bout a cookie?” 

“A cookie?” he laughed. 

You bushed, and groaned, “Derek”. Making the heat between your legs wetter. Remembering how you moan his name like that while he fucks you from the back. He laughed again, clearly enjoying this. “Seriously, Der, did you come here for something, or are you just here to torture me?” You squint your eyes at him accusingly. 

“Me, torture you? Never.” He leaned closer to you over the counter. “But, I could smell how wet you are from the car.” He whispered. Then, he kisses your cheek. Smiling at you, “just came to say hi.” He waved at Jenna and kissed you again. “I’ll see you later.” He winked. Walking towards the door, out to his car.

 “Dick,” you whispered, knowing damn well he heard you. And you saw him smile on his way out. 

After another agonizing 3 hours of barely staying focused, your shift was finally over. Walking into the loft, you saw Derek sitting on the couch, reading a book.

 “Hey,” he said, looking up at you with a small smile. 

You walked over to him, straddled his lap, and kissed him. You couldn’t help but grind into his lap. A whimper leaving you as you did. You felt Derek smirk into the kiss. When you pulled back for air, Derek took the chance to pick you up and move to the bed. “Derek,” you panted. “I need you”. You said and you kissed up his neck. 

He pulled off your shirt. You ran your hands through his hair and down his abs, pulling off his shirt, and pushing him back lightly. He helped you out of your jeans, his own following suit, then you moved to straddle his thighs. Admiring how his abs flexed under your touch.

 It wasn’t often that you got like this. You were almost never in control in the bed, but right now, Derek was letting you have your way with him, and you loved every second of it. You sat up, his hands on your hips as you moved your hips back and forth on his shaft. You loved the way he felt. And you loved watching him close his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy it. 

His abs flexed with pleasure, spurring you on. The tip of his cock rubbed against your clit to the rhythm of your hips. You braced yourself on his abs, holding yourself up. His hands roamed up and down your body, stopping again at your hips to guide your steady pace. 

“Derek,” You gasped. “Oh my god” 

 You were a mess. He pulled down on your hips, adding more friction to your clit. His head was thrown back, ready to let go with you. Soon, the air left your lungs and you came.

 Holding on to his arms, you let him flip you over. “Fuck me,” you moaned. “Please Derek, Fuck me!” 

He looked at you, glossed over with sweat, begging him to take you. He couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you were. He could see the desperation in your eyes, so he slipped his cock in slowly. Watching your eyes roll back as he bottomed out. He was close, but he knew how to make you come in minutes. 

He kissed your neck, leaving marks on his way up to your lips. Sucking the spot that drove you crazy, the pulse point right below your ear. And he drove in and out of you, feeling your walls pulse around him. Your hands in his hair, pulling him closer. He moved his hand down to your clit, rubbing small circles. Smiling when you moaned and pulled him closer. “Come for me, baby.”

That was all it took. Your whole body tensed and shook, your head thrown back against the pillows, holding him tight. You felt a wave of relief, and exhaustion all at once. He came with you, moaning in your ear. 

“You gonna tell me what that was about?” He teased, slowly dropping his full weight onto you. “You haunt me, Derek Hale. You and your pretty green eyes, and your abs, and your back, god your back,” you laughed. You ran your hands along his shoulders, taking hold of his face. “You’re so fucking hot, and it’s been driving me crazy all day.”