#Flips/tricks on ground

[warcats-cat]

There's not a lot of kids in my neighborhood but so far there have been FOUR being tired around in cars and vans "because of the cold"

Bitch back in my day we dressed in cheap ass princess costumes with no coat and we WALKED whether or not it was SNOWING!!

Uphill both ways!!!!

[psychemochanight]

Honestly, I need a scene where Dick gives someone a heart attack because he decided not to take the stairs.

Just imagine the scene: Dick has been living with Bruce for a time now, so he's already used to Dick's tricks, but that doesn't mean everyone is just as used to them.

Bruce has a visit with someone from high society, call him a company employee, call him simply a millionaire who is there for x reason. Whatever.

Dick (like 10 years old maybe), leaving his room in a hurry: Hey B! I finished my homework, I'm going out to play now!

Bruce: Okay, chum. Have fun! Come back before dark!

Dick: I will!

Dick, literally being on the second floor, opens a hallway window, and simply jumps out of it.

And Bruce is totally cool with his son jumping off a second floor window while the man next to him runs to the window in absolute panic because oh God, Bruce Wayne's son just kill hims-

Dick performs a perfect somersault, stops by hanging from a tree branch, does an extra flip, and lands softly on the ground before running off into the woods to play.

[sangunary]

Hi hi! Can we have a baby reader that has a habit of biting, headbutting and crying whenever the Batfamily is in their costumes? The baby absolutely loves them and always clings onto the family,follows then around even when they're busy (sitting in Bruce's lap while he's having a online meeting,clinging onto Damian while he paints and draws with one hand, sleeping on Jason's lap while he reads, ect.) but the moment they put on their masks/helmet she instantly stars sobbing, throwing things and hiding from them and if anyone tries to hold them when they still have their costumes on they instantly try to bite or headbutt them?

ᯓBatFamily × Baby Reader ( Platonic ).

SYPNOSIS: Their beloved baby sibling cannot remember who they are under the mask.

IMP: PURELY platonic. Wayyyy longer then I wish.

Your mother died shortly after you were born and your father ran away after realising your existence.

Being a teenager your mother knew she couldn't care for you, as much as she hated to send you off into anothers arms it was for your own sake.

She couldn't be selfish and make you go through a terrible life of poverty and without a father as well.

It happened during a massive earthquake, a building for struggling pregnant teens collapse.

Batman was there to save life along with his children, your mother went into labour due to stress and unknown circumstances.

It was tragic, she had you there and before she could even glace at your face the light left her eyes...

Before her death she begged for Batman to hand you over to someone caple of loving you like how she had hoped to, he tried telling her she wouldn't die yet she knew... She chose you to live as she doesn't see a reason to be breathing if you can't be by her arms.

She rather stay with you even as a ghost.

Batman looking at the newborn crying at his arm's unlock unwanted feelings and memories and decided to raise you himself.

The rest of the family love's you, your precious smile and especially the way you would cling onto them.

You love warmth and affection, completely different from when you were born cold and empty.

Walking on your legs as you would follow after anyone that even glace at you, it was hilarious.

You have extremely short legs, swinging your hand's while you try to run towards them with loud whinning for them to notice you.

If they didn't notice you, you would simply sit down on the ground hard with a thud and fold your arm's, staring at them with the best frown you could manage with. Sitting there sulking in silence unless or until someone pick you up.

Dick love's to teach you acrobatic moves knowing damn well that you can barely run not without almost tripping and falling on your face, you weren't the most athletic baby.

Throwing you up in the air and catching you and then spinning with you, he just loves to hear that adorable giggles of yours you made whenever he does the most dangerous stunt with you.

Sitting you down on the couch as he does a handstand or a flip or anything as you would clap your hands together. He would try to make you do backflip which always ended in him getting hit by Barbara who would took you away from him.

"Look at our little performer! Aren't they the most impressive performer?"

Dick would show any of his sibling of your standing on his hands or you hanging onto his arms.

You would watch him train and even try to train with him which he cannot help but smile at.

You trying to reach the bar that literally felt like it was in heaven cause you saw Dick performing tricks on it, using all your strength trying to pick up heavy weight.

You would not let him train by himself, you felt a deep sorrow seeing him training by himself so you help out as much as possible.

Like, clinging onto him while he did some pull ups, surprisingly your grip is very strong and tight for your age. Resting your head on his shoulder, looking like a baby slot holding onto it's mother.

Or how you would try to hold onto the to dumbbell while he's using it to become he would probably be squished by it if you don't help.

After a few minutes you would be off to napping on the couch exhausted and tired.

If you don't felt like being with Dick you simply go to the next option, Jason.

Jason was alot more gentle scared that he might accidentally hurt you, he does always teach you about on how to be street smart, you don't understand anything he say's but you like to listen.

Seeing him read you would left everything behind to accompany him cause no one is left behind. Always blessing them with your heavenly presence.

Climbing onto the ridiculously talk couch known as the ' reading couch ' Jason would watch as you struggle to get up, it was adorable from his view and it was climbing mount Everest on your part.

You arm's can reach it yet your legs have a hard time trying to get up, when one leg is on the couch you just couldn't lift the other. You wouldn't ask for help either, you rather not seek help from the want needing you.

After you managed to climb the couch you would plop down on his lap or take one arm and warp it around you leaning onto him, looking at the written book infront of you... You can't read.

Jason would simply continue reading in his mind and would even aks you if you finish reading it before turning the page, knowing that you infact cannot read. He knows that you made up completely new word and story.

He's reading Pride and Prejudice you're reading about Baba Black Sheep.

At the Batcave while he's repairing his bike you would Crouch down next to him like his assistant, pointing at gears and nodding along.

Sometimes it's the most comfortable silence he ever had or he's just teaching you about gears and how to fix them.

Hell, he even lables the tools because you don't have the worst memorization factor.

Helping you fix your toy bicycle using toys while being extremely serious.

"Seems like you barely clean the gear, look at this mess, I didn't raise you to be neglecting your prise possesion like nothing"

"Look, touch the tire and feel it... flat, very flat, dangerously flat... We need to pump it up before you get into trouble and cry"

You nod your head vigorously, barely understanding on why he is making you feel the bicycle wheel that is solely made of plastic.

Tim was also your favourite.

You would sit on his laps as he work, the computer lighting up the place, doesn't matter how busy Tim was you always managed to slide in on his arms and just watch like a clueless raccon.

Talking to you about his case and you don't even catch half of the thing he's rambling about yet still nodding along.

If he is studying you would study along side him, holding onto the pencil and lining the alphabet while Tim was busy learning for exam.

Showing him your work whenever you are done and him rewarding you with a head pat.

He even let's you play dress up on his computer while hes taking a break: He's brainstorming there is no break.

His computer consisted of gruesome documents and records and there is also tons of dress up games, making cake, classic games and barbie movies... Safe to say, he pirates alot of barbie movie for your sake.

"The unicorn is her sister? That's beastiality"

"Reminds me of Damian... Must be his secret twin"

Seeing him drink energy drinks and coffee you have been begging to drink as well, cause whatever he does you do it as well no need for questions.

And as a result, he wrote 'Monsta' on a mug he bought you and pour you a drink whenever he drank them, and you would drink it proudly.

It was just mineral water that tasted like fruits, you'll have your first energy drink with him to cheer and witness the start of your addiction.

Damian on the other hand was the most serious of the bunch.

Hes an actual eagle, always there whenever you want hug or attention or even to be love. Scoop you up in his arms and left without a word. He will not have those vermin judge him for treating his siblings with love.

If he saw any of them putting you in danger do not be worried he have been luring behind the darkness before shit can get serious. He's the second shadow of yours ready to pound onto anyone who put you in danger.

He's very serious about your well being and mental state.

Although he did hand you weapons at such young age to train with, you can't blame him he started out young to so if you start young he could be much at ease .

Much to his dismay Bruce doesn't want you near violence in his defence it wasn't violence if they annoy you first.

Now you two are secretly learning how to fight with very very small progress, you cannot even hold onto a small stick for a minute a katana... Was something else.

He's absolutely protective of you since you're an incapable baby, if you see something flying at you you'll just meet it face first cry ahd forget. Have a higher chance of being kidnapped.

It's his absolute duty to protect you from harm, no one lays their hand on you without his permission... He will not tolerate insolent and mannerless people and he will make sure you do to.

Holding onto you while he paint, he never complaint no matter how uncomfortable it was because a good soldier never complaint for their comfort rather they suffer for someone they love.

You would nap in his arm or simply watch him perform his art, it was a quiet comfortable moment... It was a special time for the two of you to bond peacefully.

"Unicorn?"

You asked him, looking up at him who's eyes were still on his the Canva.

"I knew you weren't an intellect child but isn't this out of line even for you?"

"Uni"

"Alright, a horse with a corn on it's head then..."

He can't deny you when you don't even have the brain to register what he is saying, and not because he wanted to spoil you abit... and raise your standards.

Your father was usually busy, busy being Bruce and Batman at night. Since you're a baby it was alot harder for him to spend times with you.

Usually he could do that by spending time's during patroll but he won't allow a child to be a vigilante anymore.

As a result he tried to glue you to his side when he is free, although he wasn't a good father he tried.

He sometime doesn't understand what you are meaning to say and your siblings would have to translate it for him. Although he would try to figure it out before asking them.

Watching anything you enjoy doesn't matter how childish it was Bruce would sit down with you and watch it very seriously. Noting down whenever you laugh or bored for future special times.

Going to the local playground with you while all the mom's stared at him, muttering praise and complements for being such a good father while being single.

He knew they were staring at him since he literally is Bruce Wayne at a public playground, because he doesn't want to spoil you too much and wants you to have normal friends.

Pushing you on the swing, waiting at you at the end of the slide, pretending not to see you while playing hide and seek and even playing along with you during roleplay. He sincerely wanted to be a good father to atleast one of his children.

Unfortunately or fortunately he doesn't see you as a distraction from anything just a responsible he absolutely loves. That means you're everywhere he is at... Gala, outside and even meeting.

You would sit on his lap facing his laptop with a drowsy look on your face, playing with his fingers while he doesn't even seem to know that you are there.

His employees couldn't help but take pictures secretly, you don't look so enthusiastic about the meeting and even falling asleep occasionally. Yet Bruce would only acknowledges you to make sure you were comfortable and not too bored.

Well you did join his meeting because you honestly missed your father but that was a one time thing, now it was mandatory for you to be present during meetings cause you were the joy and happiness for him.

"If we don't have the available resources now our competitors will surely take advantage of that and left us with nothing"

"...Boss? are you listening?"

Bruce who was busy trying to settle your head to a more comfortable position while being as gentle as possible.

"Yeah, hear you... Just have to do some important work continue"

Yet as much as you cling and hold onto them whenever they are going to go out without you. You would freak out with their mask on.

Hiding behind Alfred holding onto him for your life looking at the strangers infront of you, to you they just ate your family. Your family goy eaten by those masks and God were you scared.

Dick would try to find a solution... To hold you then put the mask on but to no one surprise you freak out even more.

Struggling for dear life and even smacking him, tears already forming at your eyes terrified about the fact that your older brother just got eaten infront of you.

Then he would took it off and it took you a great minute to realise he was back from the death. Hold onto him suddenly and cry harder.

Jason terrified you the most, his head was literally engulfed by the helmet of his. You would try to save him by throwing anything you could grab and hold onto.

Grabbing the book closest to you and throwing it at him which barely hit him, hit him as hard as you could while he just stood there unbothered. Alfred would be the one making sure no one wear their complete costume near you.

You couldn't recognise them even if they wear it infront of you it'll make it much more worst. Biting onto them if necessary and headbutt them as hard as you could and it does hurt you and them.

You did headbutt Jason once you never did that again and he couldn't stop laughing after you did it, just the sound of metal being hit ring and utter silence... Followed with the Alfred picking you up before you could resistered the pain.

At first they thought it was just you being stupid and the more you see them the easier it would get... No, it got worst.

You're fully prepared by the time they had hoped for you to stop, thankfully you were strong enough to conflict any pain but you could pull hard enough to took some hair out, bite them or headbutt.

Your favourite was to just ran away while calling out for them not knowing that the person you were running from was the one you seeked.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [2] - Retaliation

A.N: I watched Thunderbolts* and I am ✨back on my bullshit✨ 🩷

I hope you guys like it! 🥰 Please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Actions have consequences.

Warnings: Unwanted touching in the workplace (nothing graphic but please be careful reading it) , mentions of vaping, mentions of violence

Word Count: 3434 (and yes, this was supposed to be a blurb)

This chapter can be read as a standalone but if you want to see more of them, here is chapter 1! 🩷

It wasn’t very often that you were late to work, and if it were any other time you would be rushing inside, darting past everyone but your therapist had been very insistent about you taking some time early in the morning to ground yourself, so here you were; outside the building, focused on your breathing.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy,” you said, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “I am rich, I am that bitch—”

“What are you doing?”

You jumped out of your skin, your eyes snapping open with a gasp to see Bucky watching you with a curious look in his eyes. You let out a breath, pressing a hand over your chest.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry about that.” Bucky gave you an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, it’s a force of habit. What are you doing?”

You gestured at the building.

“It’s gonna be chaos in there,” you said. “I didn’t have time to do my affirmations this morning so I’m doing them before I walk in.”

“Affirmations?”

“Yeah, I usually do them in front of the mirror but like I said, didn’t have time,” you said. “I’m almost done, I’ll be right there.”

“It’s okay, I can wait,” Bucky said and you shrugged your shoulders, then closed your eyes again and clasped your hands in front of you.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am rich, I am that bitch,” you recited. “If the world is a high school, I’m the head cheerleader. If the world is a knee, I’m Tonya Harding. If the world is an open buffet, I’m a damn snack. I have the confidence of an evil tech bro and the looks of a pretty princess, and I get princess treatment from the universe.”

You opened your eyes to find Bucky staring at you in utter confusion, but as soon as he realized you were finished, he nodded his head fervently.

“Uh—” He seemed at a loss for words. “Amen?”

You pursed your lips to control your smile, then walked into the building with him following you.

“How come you didn’t have time this morning?” he asked and you hummed.

“Me and the rest of the team went to karaoke last night,” you said. “Got plastered, and the last thing I remember is me and Kelsey trying to sing Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Bucky let out a chuckle and followed you to your desk. “Isn’t Queen a bit too old for you?”

“Queen is goddamn timeless, take that back.”

“No I’m surprised you know—”

“I’m also surprised you know Queen, it’s a bit too new for you,” you teased him back as Caleb put a file on your desk.

“There you go Birdie.”

“Caleb!”

Bucky raised his brows. “Birdie?”

“She sings like a bird, I’ll send you the video,” Caleb replied with a grin and you pointed at him.

“I’ll kill you once I’m off the clock.”

“With your voice?”

“With a knife,” you said and he feigned a gasp, then walked away from you. You let out a whine.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Don’t think so Birdie.”

“I will kill you too,” you told Bucky as he shot you a smirk that made your stomach do a pleasant flip. “I’m serious. I have tricks you don’t even know about.”

“I’m very intimidated.”

“You should be,” you said and turned your laptop on, then clicked on a file. “By the way, you have a meeting with Mr. Thompson today, are you prepared?”

Bucky made a face. “I don’t really like that guy.”

“And unfortunately politics doesn’t care about who you like,” you said, your eyes glued to the screen as you attached the file to the email. “We can use him and his connections, so play nice alright?”

“No promises—”

“Yes promises.” You glared at him. “Yes promises right now.”

Bucky groaned and threw his head back. “But listen—”

“Go look over the email I sent you, it has everything you need for your meeting with him.”

“When did you send me an email?”

“Just now.”

“You’re talking to me right now, how did you—?”

“I’m great at my job, that’s how,” you told him and pointed at his office without taking your eyes off the screen. “Go. He will be here in two hours.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the infamous Winter Soldier, the future Congressman, the great Bucky Barnes was sulking but he walked away without protest, making you repress a smile.

By the time Mr. Thompson’s meeting with Bucky was over, it was nearly lunch time. Caleb and Kelsey were already vaping outside, and you sent the email you had been working on for the last couple of minutes, then grabbed your purse to leave the office, your eyes still glued to your phone. Your whole focus was on the news article about Bucky, so you didn’t even realize the man who was about to step out the door as well until you bumped into him and your head shot up.

“Oh, sorry about that Mr. Thompson!” you said and gave him an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh no no, after you,” he said and you passed by him but as soon as you did, you felt his hand on your butt. Your whole body froze, your stomach lurching with the sudden panic that crashed onto you out of nowhere while he walked past you, his driver opening the door for him. You stared at his car until it drove off, your eyes burning with unshed tears, bile coating the back of your throat but you forced yourself to swallow, tightening your jaw.

“Hey, you ready?” Kelsey asked, the blueberry scent of her vape filling your lungs as you took a deep breath, then blinked back the tears.

“Sure!” You tried to smile. “Let’s—let’s go.”

                                            *

You couldn’t even decide who you were angry at more.

He was a perverted asshole, that was for sure, but now that you were thinking about it, you should’ve yelled at him.

Or slapped him.

Or did something other than freezing in your spot like an idiot.                                       

The tension hadn’t left your body for the whole day, no matter how much you tried to focus on work. All you wanted was to go home and take a long shower and bury yourself under the covers, so once everyone started to leave the office, you grabbed the file and knocked on Bucky’s door.

“Hey, here are the files for tomorrow,” you rasped out and put them on his desk. “I’m gonna leave if that’s all.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look okay.”

If it were any other time, you would’ve come up with a snarky comment but you were way too tired to do so.

“Um, I just want to go home if you don’t need me for the rest of the evening.”

Bucky stood up from behind his desk to approach you, his pleasant scent tickling your nose.

“What happened?” he asked softly and you bit inside your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Listen, if it were any other time I would be thrilled to see you leave on time for once, but not like this,” he said. “What is it?”

You shifted your weight, your eyes cast on the desk just so that you could focus on something other than the threat of tears tingling the bridge of your nose.

“Just a bad day I guess.”

“Who’s responsible for that?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, the dread in your stomach easing just a little.

“Why, are you gonna go Winter Soldier on them?”

“If needed.” His voice didn’t hold a teasing tone unlike before, instead it was almost dark. “Who?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “We’re making you a congressman, you can’t do the whole scary super assassin thing anymore—”

“Who?” he repeated and you heaved a sigh.

“You were right about Mr. Thompson,” you muttered. “He is an asshole who pretends to be a gentleman. Apparently he holds the door open for you with his left hand to feel you up with his right hand.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in his eyes shifted, making you frown in confusion before your heart started beating in your throat.

Ah.

There.

Ever since you started working for Bucky, Winter Soldier had been a popular topic among your friends. They all kept insisting that it gave him the perfect air of mystery and danger, and that it made him even hotter. You weren’t an idiot, you knew very well just how handsome he was, how he stood out among all the politicians – or anyone else in the room, to be honest— but up until this point, you had never seen any trace of the infamous Winter Soldier in him. For you, Bucky was your very, very attractive boss who was genuinely so protective, so honest and so good to people around him that sometimes you wondered if he was even fit for the dirty world of politics.

But until now, it had never crossed your mind that Bucky was perfectly capable of being the most dangerous man in the room, he just made the conscious decision to shield the world from that side of him.

“He did what?”

The low growl made your whole body warm and you could only stare at him for a couple of seconds before forcing yourself to snap out of it and licked your lips.

Bucky was your boss, you were in a relationship, and this was making you feel things you definitely weren’t supposed to feel.

“It’s nothing,” you said in a rush, taking a step back. “I’m fine, it was just….who hasn’t been through that, am I right? People suck and I—I’m just gonna go home and take a shower and forget this whole day happened. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walked out of his office and snatched your purse off your desk without even slowing down, then left the building.

Normally, you wouldn’t be caught dead without your headphones in the subway but you were so lost in your thoughts that it was only when you reached home that you realized you weren’t wearing them. You frowned to yourself, then pressed your palms on your eyes, then dropped your hands with a sigh.

It was just because of today.

That was it.

And besides, anyone could see Bucky was handsome. It was an objective observation –hell, you were the one who kept joking that his looks would grant him a seat in the congress— so if anything, it just meant you were good at your job.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, then closed the door behind you.

“Max?”

“In here babe!”

You made your way to the kitchen to find him on a stall, his whole focus on his laptop screen. You quickly pecked him on the lips, then put your purse on the kitchen island while he clicked away at the keyboard.

“You’re home early.”

“So are you,” you said. “Oh my God, you will not believe what happened today.”

“What?”

“You remember Mr. Thompson?”

“The guy who owns that sports foundation, right?”

“Yeah, him!” you said. “So, he had a meeting with Bucky today, and it was around my lunchtime, and as I was walking out, he held the door open for me and then touched my butt!”

He looked up from his laptop.

“Holy shit, that’s fucked,” he said. “You okay?”

“Can you believe that?” you exclaimed. “He walks around like—everyone thinks he’s this sweet old guy, and he—he goes and does that? It’s so fucking disgusting!”

“It is.”

“I should’ve slapped him,” you told him. “Seriously. Or like, punched him or something. That’s what he deserves, that fucking pervert.”

“He really does,” he said. “Hey, should we have pizza for dinner?”

You blinked a couple of times, silence falling upon the kitchen as you searched for the right words through the anger burning in your head.

“That’s it?” you asked after a beat. “I’m telling you some creep groped me and your reaction is just ‘that’s fucked, what’s for dinner’?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked back with a laugh. “Challenge him to a duel?”

“If you could be angry, that would be appreciated,” you snapped and he pulled his brows together.

“I am angry.”

“Are you?”

“What, I should go and beat him up to show that to you?” he asked, his tone mocking. “It’s just a creepy guy with a wandering hand. No harm done—”

“Maybe I should be the one to decide if there’s any harm done, Max,” you growled through your teeth. “Seeing that it was my ass that was involved, literally!”

“Alright.” He let out a tired sigh. “I get that you’re upset, but there’s no need to take it out on me, I can’t do anything about what happened. There’s always gonna be creepy guys around you, you can’t let that affect you this much. It’s not gonna solve anything, it’ll just make you more upset.”

You could feel the headache creeping up on you, climbing from the base of your neck to your temples as you gritted your teeth, then ran a hand over your face.

“Wow,” you said. “You know what? I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed. Eat whatever you want.”

“Babe, come on—” he started but you walked out of the kitchen to the hallway, then slammed the bathroom door behind you, your eyes still burning.

                                              *

Your headache was a little better when you woke up. You were still angry and hungry at the same time, so on your way to work, you got a sandwich, coffee with four shots of espresso and some pastries for yourself and the people at the office. As usual, you were the first one to arrive, so you placed the pastries in the kitchen, made your way to your desk, put your earbuds in and got to work.

You were halfway into your report when Kelsey snapped her fingers in front of your eyes, making your head shoot up.

“Thanks for the eclairs Birdie,” she said when you took out your earbuds and you made a face.

“Not you too.”

“Bucky still isn’t in?” Caleb asked as he put a file in front of you while biting into an éclair and you and Kelsey both shook your heads.

“He has that breakfast thing with—”

“With Mrs. Ainsley in Borough Park,” you said and checked the time on your laptop. “Should be here soon though.”

Caleb popped the rest of the éclair in his mouth, then sat on your desk.

“So, let’s get the theories about last night,” he said. “I say it was his wife’s boyfriend.”

“Nah, I say it was a robbery.”

“Nothing was stolen.”

“The guy is loaded, he probably has stuff he doesn’t want the public to—”

“Who are we talking about?” you cut them off and they both turned to give you a look of disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you grabbed your phone. “I’ve been working on my report since I got here, what did I miss?”

“It came out last night!”

“I had a fight with Max last night—what happened?”

Kelsey tilted her head. “What happened with Max?”

“Long story, what’s going on?”

Caleb leaned back on his palms.

“Someone broke into Mr. Thompson’s house last night.”

Your heart started beating in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah, someone broke into his house—which is insane by the way, he usually has security there and a bunch of alarms— and my journalist friend got the first report, that was definitely personal. All the bones in his right hand are basically dust now, no one knows what kind of machine they used.”

You stared at him while Kelsey let out a snort.

“He knows, he just refuses to say anything.”

“The guy is traumatized.”

“That, and he lost all his teeth.”

“Exactly. He must’ve blocked it out because if he remembered, he would’ve given the description in writing.”

No.

Absolutely not, that was—

That was a coincidence, that’s all.

Bucky didn’t care enough about you to do that, your relationship was purely professional.

“He won’t,” Kelsey said. “People say he saw who it was, but is too scared to tell the police who it is.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his wife’s boyfriend or something, there is something personal—”

He stopped talking and jumped off your desk, causing you to turn your head to see Bucky walking to his office. Bucky offered you a small smile and nodded at your friends before entering his office and you let out a breath, leaning back on your chair.

“Ugh, he’s too hot,” Kelsey said and Caleb rolled his eyes.

“He’s your boss, dumbass. Don’t shit where you eat.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Yet.”

“Listen, we all know the Venn diagram of his potential voters and the people who want to fuck him.”

“I still cannot believe Paul put that in the Powerpoint presentation, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Bucky.”

“Oh please, as if Bucky doesn’t know how fuckable he is.”

“And do you realize what that means? We don’t ask people that question, it’s not in the survey, so it means almost all those voters just gave away that information voluntarily—”

“Uh, guys?” You hit print on the document, then grabbed the file out of the printer. “I’ll be right back.”  

You could swear your legs were shaky as you approached his office, then licked your lips and knocked on the door to peek your head in.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said and you stepped in, breathing fast for some reason. “I was just about to come to talk to you. How do you feel? After yesterday?”

“Oh I’m…I’m fine,” you said and rushed to put the report on his desk. “There. The latest numbers.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said breathlessly and turned around to leave, but then changed your mind and turned around again.

“Bucky?”

His piercing blue eyes on you were soft. “Yes?”

“Did you um—did you hear about Mr. Thompson?” you stammered. “Apparently someone broke into his house last night, through the security and all the alarms.”

He raised his brows in silence.

“It’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” you insisted. “Whoever it was, he broke all the bones in his right hand.”

A small smile twitched Bucky’s lips before he shrugged his shoulders.

“He needs his left hand to open doors.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a warmth spreading from your chest to your stomach, and lower, and lower—

Holy shit.

It was Bucky.

The warmth turned into a fire rushing through your veins, making you lightheaded while you stared at him, your stomach doing happy flips. You didn’t even realize the smile curling your lips at first but as soon as you did, you cleared your throat.

“Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He scoffed. “We’ll have to disagree on that one.”

“He has security around his house,” you insisted. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that.”

He seemed almost offended that you thought security could pose any danger to him and you tried to focus on the issue at hand rather than just how adorable it made him look.

“And we were trying to get his support, if anyone saw you—”

“I don’t care about his support, nor do I want it anymore.”

Focus.

He’s your boss.

Focus.

“He apologized to you, by the way,” Bucky added, mischief glimmering in his eyes. “He would’ve said it himself but he doesn’t have teeth anymore, so…”

That managed to coax a burst of laughter out of you and you covered your mouth, then dropped your hands, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

“Thank you,” you managed to say and he held your gaze in his, making the butterflies in your stomach even worse.

His voice was soft: “Don’t mention it.”

You lingered there for a moment, then turned around and walked out of his office to your desk where Kelsey and Caleb were still talking. You could feel the fire blooming under your cheeks but you let out a breath and sat down, willing yourself to focus.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “What was that about the Venn diagram?”

Chapter 3  

[fawniswriting]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: The story of a girl and her fallen flowers, as well as a boy who can't seem to forget either of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): 1940s!Bucky. 1940s!reader. winter-soldier!Bucky. TFATWS!Bucky. non-linear timeline (time-jumps). childhood friends to lovers. kissing. profanities. canon typical violence. bucky in the electric chair. brief mention of suicidal thoughts. fluff. kinda cheesy if you squint. mild angst. implied death (?). platonic sambucky. bittersweet ending I guess?? (you'll see what I mean)

Author's Note: okayyy so this didn't quite turn out the way I thought it would, but I loveeedd the concept as soon as I got it in my head and still wanted to share this story with you guys 🥺 idk why I seem to struggle translating my ideas properly lately 🫠 anywho, this is officially the shortest piece I've ever written, and I'm actually kind of challenging myself to start writing shorter pieces because I always end up blabbering non-stop in my fics (a side effect to being a yapper, I guess 😭). but despite all, I hope you'll still like this one and find it enjoyable! ❤️ and if you do, please don't forget: like, comment, and reblog 💞

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“This is for you.”

Twelve-year-old Bucky Barnes looked up from the wriggling worm on the ground and squinted his eyes against the blinding sun. The sky of Brooklyn was the color of his eyes today, bright and vast as if someone had splashed a painter's brush across the horizon. Under the stretch of blue, his gaze landed on you—the new girl at school, the one his classmates had been whispering about since Mr. Morris decided to take everyone out to the park for today's PE lesson. 

Johnny Hurst told Bucky that you were the prettiest dame he had ever seen.

And boy, if the punk weren't telling the truth.

Bucky's eyes flitted over you from head to toe—taking in the slight tilt of your head, the subtle curve of your lips, and the worn blouse that clung to you at least half a size too big—before they finally landed on the hand outstretched towards him.

“What's this?” he asked.

“It's a flower.”

“I can see that.”

Abandoning the worm, Bucky rose to his feet and brushed the dust off his slacks. You observed his movements with fervor, your hand still curling around the yellow daffodil as if its petals held the cosmic tethers that kept the entire universe from falling apart.

You extended your palm further, positioning the flower directly under his nose until he could smell the fragrance caressing his cheeks.

“It's for you,” you repeated.

Bucky's eyes flicked twice between your face and the daffodil. “Is this a trick?”

“No.”

“Someone put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Where'd you get the flower?”

“From there.”

Bucky's eyes followed the direction of your finger, spotting the daffodil bushes located just a few paces ahead. Not in full bloom yet, but nearly. A golden oasis in the midst of a playground of gray and trampled grass.

You turned towards him again, your expression remaining unchanged as you told him, “I picked it up from the ground.”

Bucky stared at the daffodil in silence. “You're giving me a wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

There was a shadow appearing in the center of your forehead. Your fingertips twitched where they hovered attentively around the yellow petals, as though the accusation had offended you, as though Bucky had spoken blasphemy against the flower by calling it wilted.

“It's been on the ground,” Bucky pointed out.

“So? It simply fell off. Doesn't mean it's wilted.”

“Ain't that the same thing?”

“No.” You pouted, your forehead creasing deeper as your hand cradled the daffodil closer to your chest. “A wilted flower is dead. It doesn't have any love remaining inside it. This flower is not like that.”

And then, like some kind of switch had been flipped, you angled your head towards him—entwining his eyes with your steadfast gaze, rendering his legs motionless with the sight of a brilliant grin stretching across your beautiful face.

“This flower still has a lot of love to give to the world,” you proclaimed.

Bucky's heart stuttered.

It must have been a premonition from the heavens when Bucky's arm began lifting of its own accord, receiving the daffodil from your hand and relishing in the elated hum that the gesture elicited. The petals were delicate against the skin of his palm, and Bucky suddenly feared the possibility of crushing them due to his overt carelessness.

“She's yours now.” You beamed, swaying slightly on your feet as your hands clapped in infectious joy. “She'll give you all of her love if you promise to take care of her.”

His lips quirked. “It's a she?”

“Of course,” you replied, the sun glinting radiantly in your pupils. “All the beautiful things in life are a she.”

Bucky couldn't find it in himself to argue.

He watched you leave with heart on his sleeve, bewitched by the ribbon of your laughter dancing in the wind. His fingers curled protectively around the yellow daffodil, his heart singing in tandem with the rhythm of your skipping feet echoing through the earth.

“Hey!” Bucky called out. You stopped halfway in your tracks, smiling at him from the distance like his wildest daydreams made into flesh. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why'd you decide to give the flower to me?”

The grin on your face widened, and Bucky—bless his heart—thought for a moment that his entire limbs might collapse.

A breeze rustled the surrounding trees, cavorting around until it floated across your cheeks. You stumbled back a step upon its intrusion, your eyes peering shyly under the harsh judgment of the sun. And yet, your smile prevailed—still soft as a wisp, still managing to make Bucky's chest alight with something more precarious than a raging flame.

“Cause you're handsome,” you answered at last, the sound of your giggles resonating throughout the air and straight into Bucky's soul. “Take good care of her, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Blue eyes trailed along as you disappeared around the hedge, remnants of your melodic voice still dithering in the sky, a gentle lull against the wild thumping of his heart. As the world settled into its insipid normal, Bucky Barnes knew that there were two things of which he was absolutely certain.

One: the flower in his hand had now become the most prized possession in his otherwise monotone life.

And two: he had actually never told you his name.

Somehow, Bucky found that he didn't quite mind both.

“Say, handsome. Any chance you could tell a girl where to find a good time around here?”

Bucky hadn't even turned when the smile broke across his lips. 

His soul meandered towards your voice, his heart leaping out of its cage as he took in your entire figure for the first time that night—flowy dress and red lipstick, platform heels and a pair of lips that looked like they held whispers of a secret he would spend a lifetime trying to unravel. Your own smile blinded him as you approached closer, the cadence of your steps a harmonious symmetry with the surrounding ruckus of the carnival. 

“I'd show you a good time, doll.” He smirked once you stood in front of him, your chin tilting up in a way that made Bucky want to drop to his knees and worship the ground you had walked on. “All you gotta do is ask.”

“Really? Just ask?” You hummed, fluttering your lashes and sending a whole swing band loose in Bucky’s gut. “Shame. Here I thought I'd bargain a smooch for your company. Guess I'll just have to give it to someone else, then.”

You didn't have a chance to turn before Bucky yanked you back towards him, firm fingers curling around your wrist like a ship finally mooring to land. He swallowed your surprised yelp with a kiss, devouring your gasps as if the two of you weren't standing under caramel-slicked air and a parade of balloons and shrieks.

“Quit jokin’ about kissing someone else, sweetheart,” he rasped against your lips, fingers resolute where they squeezed around your hip. “Lest you're lookin’ to see me die of a heart attack.”

Your smile bloomed. “Then why don't you kiss me some more, Buck?”

He was more than happy to oblige.

His lips found yours again, slower this time, savoring every second as if he were living on borrowed time. The world around you faded away into an abstract background, centering you in the moment, where everything you yearned and cared for was the hint of sugar you could taste on your boyfriend's lips.

When the two of you parted for the second time, Bucky studied your face as though memorizing a miracle right before his very eyes. It made something stir in the depth of your chest.

“Got you something,” Bucky admitted, excitement and joy spilling out of his skin.

You waited patiently as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an eyeglass case that made your eyebrows pinch in wonder—since when did he wear glasses? But before you could ask, Bucky was already opening the lid, and the view of its content managed to coax a gasp of awe from somewhere within your ribs.

“Bucky, this is amazing.”

You picked up the tiny arrangement between your pointer and middle fingers, admiring the way the flowers were bound together into a miniscule bouquet. They were tethered to one another by a string of stem and twine, a thread of nature and mankind, existing side by side in an eternal waltz that fate had bestowed upon them.

Your chest tapered, bringing the tiny bouquet closer to your heart as you captured the giddy blue of Bucky’s eyes. “You made this yourself?”

“I did.” Bucky nodded, his chest inflating in a pale delight. “Well, Becca helped. Who could've guessed that tying a yarn around flower stems required nimble fingers, huh?”

You laughed along, concealing the way your insides were melting into a puddle as if this weren't the nicest gesture anyone had ever done for you.

“Ma gave me an earful when she saw me in the garden, dirt on my hands and knees, lookin’ for fallen blossoms. Said I'd better get some proper flowers for my girl if I didn't want her runnin’ off with another fella.” Bucky chuckled. “But I told her this was more special. After all, these buds ain't wilted yet, which means—”

“They still got love to give,” you whispered, void of air and yet brimming with boisterous affection. You kissed his chin and rewarded him a grin. “You know who else got love to give, Buck?” 

Bucky laughed, that rare, beautiful sound that always seemed too big for the world to hold. He cupped your cheek like he was holding a precious porcelain, leaning closer until your foreheads rested against one another.

"Yeah, sweetheart." He breathed, nudging his nose to yours. "I sure as hell do.”

“Mission report,” a voice commanded.

In the center of the room, the Soldat sat on a throne made of metal and terror. A cushion designed not for rest, but for bearing witness to the drips of blood pooling beneath restraint-bound limbs. Other soldiers stood all around the room, their cowardice louder than their breathing, their backs refusing to peel from the walls as if it could absolve them of their complicity.

The quiet stretched.

Out of the shadows, the tall, fiendish man emerged, carrying the kind of cruelty that even hell would cower from. He examined the Soldat and raised his eyebrows, noting down the asset's lack of response—an observation for later, an error to repair as if the Soldat had been a mere machine instead of a living soul.

The man stepped closer, repeating himself with a bellowing voice that would beckon the dead from their graves, “Mission report, Soldat.”

Still no answer.

The tension sweltered.

“What's wrong with him?” another man chimed in.

The first one shook his head, his mind already gearing, going through the motions on how he could pick apart and assemble the Soldat into something new, something better. But before he could jot down the evil plan on his notepad, his gaze slid downward, spotting the defensive curl of the Soldat's flesh fist hidden partly by his right thigh.

“There is something in his hand.”

The second man sprung into action, approaching the chair and demanding the frozen man on it to unclench his fingers, now. But the Soldat didn't move, not even a single indication to acknowledge the receival of the command. Even when the smack thundered across his cheek, the Soldat continued to stand his ground, a show of defiance through the very last thing he could still afford.

“Soldat.” The first man attempted again, a cold edge coursing through his words. “Give us what's in your hand before we put you back in the cryo.”

The Soldat didn't say anything, but his fingers flexed—just a tiny bit—though it was enough to help the second man pry the mysterious object out of the Soldat's hand.

“What is it?” the first man asked, a hint of impatience leaking through his practiced image.

“It's, uh… It's…” the second man stammered. 

He turned his palm around, confusion palpable in his eyes as he showed his colleague the mysterious object that the Soldat had guarded with more ferocity than any weapon they’d ever placed in his hands.

A slightly crumpled yellow daffodil.

“It's a flower?” the first man nearly roared. “It was just a fucking wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

The room fell into an instantaneous hush. Every pair of eyes inside ambled towards the center of the room, towards the assassin who had just decided to break his silence over the trivial matter of flowers.

The first man turned towards the Soldat with a menacing stare, his eyes a pair of blades as he stepped closer towards the seat of torture, studying the Soldat who was still sitting stiffly as if awaiting the next round of nightmares. But beneath the blue eyes, usually steely and cold, something else had clawed its way through—something fiery and reckless, something akin to humanity.

The first man sneered, turning to the entire room to bark his orders, “Wipe him. And put him in the ice until further notice.”

People moved in a flurry of limbs as soon as the instruction had settled. Amidst the havoc, everybody failed to notice the silent tick of the Soldat's jaw, the scintillating shift of his pupils as unsolicited hands forced him back against the chair, strapping his entire body with restraints that felt more like burning coals against an expanse of skin.

The Soldat kept his eyes trained on the drab surface of the ceiling, bracing himself for the pain to come, for the same searing agony that had muddled his brain far too many times to count. He wouldn't remember much afterwards—wouldn't remember how desperately he kept wishing for death in those horrifying moments—but he would certainly remember the fear. Thrumming under his skin like lightning against a drowning man's ribs.

At the first descent of the machine upon each side of his head, the Soldat suddenly heard it—the voice. 

The one who wasn't his own but sounded like a missing piece of his soul.

The one who always appeared in times when he needed an anchor and something to hold.

The one who had told him to pick up the daffodil while he was on the field.

“Take it,” the voice had adjured. “Take the flower. It's not wilted yet, it has simply just fallen.”

So he did.

And right now, the voice was returning once more, only this time, it didn't come alone.

It came with flashes—images.

An image of laughter and smiles, of promises and dreams. An image of two bodies tangled beneath the sheets, spent breaths and a humming pleasure rushing through bloodstreams.

It came with an image of you.

“It's gonna be alright,” you told him, so gentle and kind that he almost believed it. “Everything's gonna be alright, honey. I'm right here with you.”

The machine awakened with an ominous snarl, triggering a low whine inside his skull, rising gradually until it split the edges of his mind apart. He tried to hold onto something, anything, but there was nothing left inside him except for scraps of bones and a heart mangled beyond any devastation the world could ever imagine.

He was no one. 

No name. No face. No soul. 

Just a body, wired and broken, as mechanical as the chair he sat upon.

As good as wilted.

“You're not wilted.”

The Soldat blinked.

“You've merely fallen, honey,” you assured, smiling so sweetly he could almost taste it on his tongue. “Fallen things aren't wilted. And fallen things—oh, sweetheart—they still have so much more love to give.”

“You dropped one, Sarah.”

Bucky bent down to pick up the flower on the floor, the one that had fatedly fallen from the bouquet of fragrance and colors that Sam's sister was currently moving to a clear vase. The petals fluttered like silk on the skin of Bucky's palm, and his knees nearly gave out from underneath him when he finally took a proper look at the blossom in his grasp.

A yellow daffodil.

“Just throw it away, Buck,” Sarah said from her place in the kitchen. She crumpled the parchment wrapper of the bouquet before throwing it into the bin, the arrangement of flowers now sitting proudly on the kitchen counter. “It's been on the ground, anyway.”

“Just ‘cause it's fallen, doesn't mean it's wilted yet.” Bucky sauntered towards the kitchen, stopping to position the bud amidst the array of petals and stems. “They still got a whole lot of love left to give, you know?”

Sarah's eyebrows rose.

Before she could comment on Bucky's surprising sentiment, Sam came striding into the house, his dark eyes immediately zeroing on the two people standing by the kitchen counter.

“What's this?” Sam asked, suspicion dripping from his voice. “Yo, man, I told you to stop flirting with my sis.”

“Nobody's flirting, Sam. We were just talking,” Bucky clarified. Then, just to ruffle Sam’s feathers, the super soldier flicked his gaze towards Sarah, tilting his lips in the way he used to do when he wanted to coax something out of you. “Right, Sarah?”

The woman giggled, and Bucky could almost beam in satisfaction at the imaginary smoke coming out of Sam's ears.

“He was just helping me, Sam,” Sarah told him. “One of the flowers fell, so he returned it to me.”

“Nuh uh. I don't believe that's all there is. That must be him tryna make a move. That was you making a move, isn't it?” Sam demanded, his gaze jerking aggressively between his sister and a smug Bucky. “What'd he tell you? Whatever it was, don't listen to it. Don't believe him. It's just a bunch of bullshit.”

“God, Sam, he didn't say anything.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He just told me something about flowers. About how they aren't wilted if they fell, and… what was it again, Buck?”

The man tensed.

Bucky regained his composure in the blink of an eye, keeping the other two oblivious to the surge of turmoil that the simple question had sent. Keeping them in the dark about the way Bucky's heart had stumbled at the mere memory of your smile flaring across his mind and straight into his soul.

“It was nothing,” Bucky said. “Just a silly saying.”

“Oh, right!” Sarah snapped her fingers. “Fallen flowers still have lots of love to give.” She smiled proudly, eyes flickering towards Bucky with conspicuous excitement. “Was I right?”

Bucky's jaw clenched.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam questioned, his forehead knitting, vexation melting into incredulity. “That your game, Buck? Sounds lousy as hell.”

Bucky sighed. “Sam…”

“Did that kinda thing really work in the forties? ‘Cause damn, I could've been a real ladies man back then. Would've been so easy if all it took was one lame shit about flowers, and—hey, where you goin’?”

“Getting the hell away from you!”

Bucky heard Sam's laughter echoing from behind him, mocking and unaware of the wound in the former's chest that was beginning to crack and bleed all over the floor. The sound of your voice lingered in Bucky's mind, a ghost only he could hear, a cursed rapture that broke him apart at the seams before stitching him together all at once.

Before Bucky could exit the house, Sam's voice erupted again, “Hey! At least tell us how you got the idea for such a cheesy saying!”

“I didn't.” Bucky's grip contracted around the front door's handle, a shaky smile stretching his lips before he caught Sam's gaze from the distance. “Someone taught it to me. A long time ago.”

[vbecker10]

Omg, could you please do a Loki story where Jotuns are basically space penguins, so now Loki has a crush on you and is frantically and meticulously looking for the perfect pebble to give you while Thor just watches and laughs.

The Pebble and the Frost Giant

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: Loki is trying to deny his feelings for you so he doesn't ruin your friendship but when he passes an area filled with pebbles and small rocks, he's unable to resist the urge to bring one back for you and tell you he loves you.

A/N: OMG! This is the cutest ask ever, I literally had to write it the second I got it. Most of the time it takes a week or so for me to get an idea from an ask but this one was pretty instant. Thank you so much for sending this, I really hope you like it! 💚

Also, I absolutely love the movie The Pebble and the Penguin! If anyone hasn't seen it, you should! 🐧

"Come on brother," Thor pats Loki on the knee and the younger prince looks up from his book in annoyance.

"I'm not going," Loki resumes reading as if Thor isn't there.

The older Asgardian sighs, "We've got at least an hour until the jet takes off. Let's go down by the water."

"I'm perfectly fine here," he licks his finger before flipping the page. Thor grins and pulls the book from his brother's grasp. "Give it back you oaf!"

"Just twenty minutes," Thor holds the book over his head.

"This trick worked much better when we were children and you towered over me," the younger prince easily reaches up to grip the book.

Before Loki can pull it free from his brother's grasp, Thor yanks it back and tosses it to the ground at their feet. "This is uncalled for," Loki bends to pick up the book but suddenly falls back, landing hard on the jet floor with a grunt.

"Is there a problem?" Thor asks with a smirk.

"No," Loki looks down at Mjolnir as it rests on top of his book. He stands, flicking his hand to produce a second book from his pocket dimension in a haze of green smoke. "I'll just read this-"

Thor chuckles as he pulls the book free from Loki a second time.

"Seriously?" The God of Mischief asks with a defeated sigh.

"Twenty minutes on the beach and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night," Thor offers.

"For the rest of the week," Loki counters.

"Fine," the God of Thunder agrees and Loki's second book vanishes as the two brothers step out of the jet.

Thor and Loki walk down by the water in silence, the older Asgardian's eyes drift up towards the clouds floating by while Loki scans the beach in boredom. He looks down to check his watch when he's suddenly distracted by a small pile of tide polished stones ahead of him. Without thinking, he leaves his brother's side and begins walking towards them.

"Where are you going?" Thor asks but Loki doesn't answer. He's too focused on the scattered rocks in front of him.

He kneels down, picking up a stone from the top of the pile, looking at it closely then tossing it to the side. "No," Loki mumbles to himself as he picks up a second then a third rock. "No," he shakes his head as he examines each for a few seconds.

"Loki," Thor comes closer, standing over his younger brother as he discards a handful of stones. Without a word, Loki gets up and moves to a nearby pile. "Okay seriously, what are you doing?"

"None of these are good," Loki answers, dusting his sand covered hands on his pants.

"They're rocks," Thor chuckles, amused by his brother's sudden obsession.

"Yes but there has to be one here that's good enough," Loki says. "Not just good, no, it needs to be perfect," he adds in a quieter tone.

"You're not making any sense," he follows the younger prince to yet another pile. "Perfect for what?"

"For who," Loki responds vaguely.

Thor thinks as he follows his brother along the beach, trying figure out who Loki is referring to. To say he has few friends is an understatement, there's really only one person who even comes to mind. "Do you mean Y/N?" Thor asks.

Loki nods, his attention stolen away by an almost perfect stone. Almost isn't good enough though, he thinks as he tosses it towards the water in frustration.

"Why do you need to find one for Y/N?" Thor asks as Loki sits on the sand and picks up a handful of rocks, throwing each away one at a time. "Does she collect rocks? I've heard some Midgardians do that. I wonder if that's more interesting than collecting stamps like Jane does?"

Loki doesn't answer this time, too lost in what he's doing, what he needs to do. I have to find it, he thinks. I don't have time for Thor and his ridiculous line of questions. It doesn't matter if he understands why, Norns I don't even understand why but that doesn't matter now. All that matters is finding Y/N the perfect stone. It can't be too big or too small, the size of her palm should work. It can't be broken, no cracked edges or holes, that won't do either. It needs to be perfect because- his frantic thoughts are cut off by his brother shouting.

"Norns! I know what you're doing," he stands over his brother who shifts to stay out of his shadow.

"I doubt that," Loki says without looking up from the stones in his hand. Because I don't know what I'm doing, he thinks.

"You're in love with Y/N," the older god announces when Loki gets up again to continue down the beach.

"Don't be absurd," Loki denies the truth he hides from everyone including you as he kneels down and begins the process of picking up each stone in the new pile one at a time.

"You are!" Thor laughs excitedly. "This is a Jotun thing."

"What Jotun thing?" Loki looks up at his brother.

"I know this! I read about it when we were younger," Thor says then sighs as he thinks. "I can't remember the technical term for it but when Jotun men are in love, they bring their potential partner a stone as like a proposal."

"What?" Loki asks as he sits in the sand and looks up at his brother. He had never heard of this tradition before now but he also knows very little about his Jotun heritage. When he was a child, frost giants scared him terribly so he never studied them. Now that he knows the truth, he is almost too afraid to learn what horrid tales about them were accurate and which were only made up stories.

"Penguins on Midgard do it too," Thor continues excitedly as he remembers what he read centuries ago. "Ahh! Pebbling, that's what they call it. You're pebbling, you can't help it, it's like an instinct Jotun's have."

"That's ridiculous Thor. I'm not pebbling, or whatever you want to call it, because I'm not in love with-" Loki tries to argue with his brother but the words die as he finally finds it. The perfect stone for the most perfect woman on Midgard, Loki thinks as he turns it over in his hand. Norns help me, my brother is right and I'm not sure I'll be able to hide my feelings for her any longer.

Loki opens your office door after knocking and you get up from your desk as soon as he steps inside. "Hi," you greet him happily, meeting him in the middle of the room. "Welcome back."

"Thank you," he smiles when you wrap your arms around him. "I'm glad to be back," Loki says but what he really means is that he's glad to be back with you.

You rest your head on his chest and his hands settle on your back, holding you tightly to him. You could stay in his arms forever and sometimes you think Loki might let you. He doesn't let go first, he never does.

"You know you spoil me with these hugs," you tell him and he chuckles. "You're going to make me think I'm special cause I'm the only person that gets them."

He rubs your back lightly with one hand, "You are special."

You blush and slowly drop your arms, taking a step away from him. You don't want to let go but if he keeps talking like that, you're afraid you'll do something stupid like kiss him.

Loki's heart pounds in his chest when he catches a glimpse of your blush despite your best efforts to hide it. "I have something for you," he says, clearing his throat.

"You do? You didn't have to do that," you tell him as a smile spreads across your face. You can't help but feel excited by the idea that Loki thought of you while he was away. He never brought anything back for you before.

"It's nothing big," he says with a shrug, "It's actually probably stupid." This was a bad idea, he thinks. How could I possibly think she would accept a silly rock and suddenly be mine? I never should have listened to my idiot brother. Loki puts his hand in his coat pocket, running his thumb over the flat edge anxiously.

"I'm sure it's not stupid," you tell him, putting your hand on his arm. "What is it?"

He sighs and you can tell he's nervous which you find both adorable and interesting. You've never seen him act so unsure of himself and it really makes you want to hug him again.

He pulls a palm sized flat stone out of his pocket. It's perfectly circular and a pale gray with a hint of a blue when it catches the light. "I found it on the beach while we were waiting for the jet," he tries to steady his hand when you take it. He knows it's just a simple rock but the Jotun part of him is truly desperate for you to accept it, to accept him.

You smile and take it from him, bringing it close so you can study the smooth stone, "Loki it's so pretty."

"Really?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yeah," you nod quickly, your eyes still on the gift as you walk over to the window and turn it on the light. "Oh, look! it sparkles in the sun," you giggle.

He breaths a sigh of relief and walks over to you. "You like it?"

"I love it," you reach up and kiss the god's cheek lightly without thinking. "I'm sorry," you apologize quickly but when you look up at Loki you're completely surprised by his reaction.

His cheeks redden and he smiles. "It's quite alright," he tells you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You giggle, suddenly feeling even more nervous than you would have if Loki had seemed uncomfortable with the kiss and take a step away from him. Turning your back to him, you move to your desk but you can feel him following you, "I'm gonna keep it right here so I can see it when I miss you." You place the stone in between a photo of your friends and a mug your nephew made you.

"You miss me?" he asks.

"Yeah... when you're away on missions," you suddenly worry this conversation is going to lead to you accidentally telling your friend you love him if you don't figure out how to keep your mouth shut.

"I miss you when I'm gone too," Loki moves a bit closer to you until he's right behind you.

You turn to face him again, "Really?" You can't help but not believe him. For months you've been hoping he might care for you the way you care for him but its been so difficult to get past all of his walls.

He nods, "Always Y/N. The second the jet takes off, I start counting down the minutes until I can see you again."

Now it's your turn to blush deeply when he reaches out to take your hand. When you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, you suddenly get enough to courage to open up a bit more. "I try to plan my meetings around when I know you'll be back," you tell him. "This way I'm free to see you as soon as your home."

He chuckles and cups your cheek, "I would storm in here even if you were in a meeting with Fury just for one of your hugs."

You giggle knowing he's not lying.

"Y/N," he says, "Since we're being honest, I need to tell you one more thing." You bite your lip but the way he smiles relaxes you instantly. "I want to be more than just your friend, I want to take you on a date." I want you to be mine because I love you, he almost adds but he doesn't want to scare you away.

You're unable to form any words at first, looking up at Loki nodding which causes him to laugh a little nervously. "I'm not sure if that's a yes," he says.

"Yes!" you finally find your words but then they flow a little too freely. "I love y-" you stop and correct yourself hoping he won't notice your slip. "I would love to go out with you."

He strokes your cheek gently, moving closer to you as he puts his other hand on your lower back. "That's not what you were going to say," he smirks, the confident Loki you know returning swiftly.

You shake your head and bite your lip, suddenly losing your nerve.

"Fine, I'll go first," his lips are inches from yours. "I am hopelessly in love with you darling."

As soon as the words leave Loki's lips, you press your lips to his, closing your eyes and gripping the fabric on the back of his jacket. He kisses you back and when you finally break the kiss and chuckles, kissing your nose lightly. "Go on, say it," he smiles, holding you close.

You giggle, "I love you too, Loki."

A few weeks later, you walk with Natasha and Wanda through Central Park on the way back from lunch. You nod as you listen to Wanda complain about Tony, agreeing with her when you accidentally kick a rock on the path in front of you. You stop to take a look at it and smile.

"What are you doing?" Nat asks as you bend down for a closer look.

"I don't know, I just thought this one looked cool," you tell them.

"The rock?" Wanda asks.

"Yeah," you pick it up and turn it over in your hand. It's not very large but the rough stone is heart shaped and such a deep gray it's almost black. "I think Loki might like it."

"You two are so weird," Nat laughs.

You smile and put it in your pocket, "That's why we're such a cute couple."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @multyunervisesuperfan @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @wolfsmom1 @anukulee @sabspoetic @beaniemoon @peaches1958 @catsladen @michellewgrt @soulpiercing @lcolumbia1988 @lelliefant @crimson25 @jaidenhawke @lovingchoices14 @jennyggggrrr @itscomplicatedx @goblingirlsarah @witchylittlegrl @motherofmischief

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Off Your Game| Paring: John Walker x Thunderbolts!Reader

Working with the Thunderbolts meant swallowing your pride daily — but nothing bruised your ego quite like him.

John Walker. U.S. Agent. Mr. “Stars-and-Stripes-but-angry-about-it.” He was loud, stubborn, and somehow managed to be the one person on the team immune to your best weapon: your voice.

Your siren gift had turned the tide in battle more times than you could count. Soft, sweet, commanding — you could lure men twice your size to their knees with a whisper. Turn enemy soldiers into puppets. Make hardened killers hesitate just long enough for you to strike. But Walker? Nothing.

You’d tried every angle: the low, honeyed coaxing during mission briefings, the sharper commands barked in the field, even the casual teasing when you brushed past him in the armory. He’d scowl, grunt, and keep moving like you were background noise.

And it infuriated you.

"What's the matter, Walker?" you sneered during one training op, wiping blood from your split lip as you circled him. "Don’t like being told what to do by someone half your size? Or is it just that your brain’s too fried to respond to simple commands?"

He rolled his eyes, hefting his shield like it weighed nothing. "Maybe I just don’t fall for cheap tricks."

You bared your teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Funny. Everyone else seems to."

His lips twitched — not a smile, but close — before he charged you again. Your fight was fast, brutal, and left you both gasping by the end, neither fully willing to admit how much you liked pushing each other to the edge.

But it wasn’t until that mission in Madripoor that everything flipped.

You’d gone in deep, using your voice to turn a local gang against their own boss. It worked — until you pushed too far, for too long. Your vision blurred, ears ringing as your strength drained faster than expected. The goons you’d wrapped around your finger suddenly snapped out of it, furious and armed.

You staggered, pulse weak. Too slow. Too tired to talk your way out. For the first time in years, you realized you might not make it out.

Then a shield flew through the air, cracking against a skull with a wet thud. Walker barrelled in like a wrecking ball, fists flying, every movement brutal and efficient. He grabbed you by the arm, yanking you out of the crossfire with a growl.

"Get your head on straight!" he barked, hauling you behind cover.

Your heart pounded — from the fight or from him, you weren’t sure. Up close, with his face flushed and jaw clenched, he looked…kind of cute, actually.

"I had it handled," you muttered, trying to shake him off, even as your knees wobbled.

"Yeah, looked real handled back there." His voice was rough, but his grip on your arm was steady, grounding. "You ever think about not overusing your powers like an idiot?"

You glared at him, but your pulse betrayed you — racing not from fear, but from something warmer, sharper. "You ever think about minding your own business, Walker?"

His mouth quirked, almost smiling again. "You’re my business. Thunderbolts stick together. Even ones with siren tricks that don't work on me."

You hated the way your stomach flipped at that. "You’re really damn annoying, you know that?"

"And you’re reckless," he shot back. "But I guess you’re kinda cute when you’re not trying to manipulate people."

Your breath hitched — just for a second — and in that beat of silence, you realized two things: One, John Walker had just called you cute. And two, you were so off your game right now.

"Maybe you should save me more often," you muttered before you could stop yourself.

His smile, this time, was real. Sharp-edged but real. "Maybe I will."

[thinkshespretty]

𝑯𝑰𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑰 | 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉…your assigned to be a private chef for the sturniolo’s for the night and chris seems to take a special interest towards you.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 smut, p in v, backshots, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, dumbification kink, male masturbation

the leaves from the trees in the backyard softly rustle from the autumn breeze as you place down utensils and plates on the clothed table. you have always loved cooking for others and experimenting with new recipes. that’s what sparked the idea to become a professional chef and share your passion with everyone. you were awaiting your next clients, three famous youtubers who rented out an airbnb for a fancy hibachi dinner. you finished placing down bottles of miscellaneous condiments before hearing the gate to the backyard open. three figures walked in with a man holding a camera following close behind.

“hi! you guys must be the sturniolos.” you greeted with a smile as you approached them. “i’m y/n, i’ll be cooking for you guys tonight.” you explained, sticking your hand out towards the boy in a blue shirt.

“that’s us! i’m nick, and this is matt and chris.” he pointed to his left. your gaze shifted as you smiled brightly at matt and chris, you felt a flush creep on your cheeks as chris held eye contact with you. although though the three boys looked the same you were captivated by him almost instantly.

“it’s nice to meet you all! are you ready to get started?” you quickly blurted out to distract yourself from the slightly awkward interaction. they all nodded before following behind you to their dinner table.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

“okay let’s get started! watch closely cause one of you guys will have to try this next.” you explained, beginning to flip your special hibachi spatula and knife between your hands. you swiftly spun the utensils towards nick, pretending to throw it at him before quickly retracing it back towards you. the three boys watched in awe at your tricks.

“that was sick.” chris announced from beside you, nodding his head in approval at your performance. matt and nick chuckled from beside him before speaking up. “chris why don’t you go up there and try?” nick insisted to his younger brother.

“yeah come on up here and give it a try!” you encouraged stepping aside to allow him to be in front of the stove. chris smiled and rolled his eyes as his brothers cheered him on, you handed him the utensils and began guiding him. “alright so your going to hold this hand in place and flick your wrist forward for the spinning motion.” you instructed, placing your hands on his and guiding him through the process.

“alright alright i got this.” chris laughed at his brothers. he tapped the spatula on the stove before attempting to spin it through the prongs of the utensil, ultimately failing. nick and matt chanted a “boo” at their brothers failure. you giggled at their bickering before looking back at chris.

“hey the form was pretty good! let’s try one more time.” you said with a smile. your skirt slightly rid up as you bent over in front of chris, unknowingly revealing your lacy black panties beneath your sheer tights. after retrieving the spatula on the ground and picked up the utensil and wiped it gently on your black skirt. chris could feel his dick start to twitch beneath his pants as he stared down at you.

after another attempt at your trick, chris failed and sat back down allowing his brothers a chance to try. he watched as you giggled alongside matt and nick while they tried your movements, only nick was successful. chris didn’t even pay attention to his brothers, his gaze was fixated on you. the way your hair sat perfectly on your shoulders and how your tits sat perfectly in the black collared shirt you wore, the three buttons you left undone showed the perfect amount of cleavage. he shifted in his char to subtly adjust the prominent tent against his pants. but the more he shifted his mind raced with desire and aching for release.

“i have to use the bathroom i’ll be back.” chris stated, quickly walking towards the house to avoid anyone noticing the strain in his sweats from his erection. as soon as he reached the bathroom door he slammed it shut and locked it. he untied his sweatpants and yanks them down, shoving his hand into his boxers. springing his dick from his pants and wrapping his hand around it he pumps his hand, moaning lowly. picturing it was your hand on his cock, chris’s hand moved faster up and down his shaft breathing heavily.

“alright you guys enjoy that rice and i’ll be preparing your next dish!” you smiled handing matt and nick their bowls. they both said a quick “thank you” before you walked back into the house. as you made your way to the kitchen and opened the fridge to get some eggs you heard low noises coming from the bathroom.

chris was too caught up with his movements and thoughts to hear the footsteps approaching the door behind him. he let out another groan as his hand moved faster.

you knew it was wrong, but your feet stayed planted in front of the bathroom door. you were going to step away until you heard chris moaning your name. your mind starts to wander as you imagine chris getting himself off from you. the thought alone sends a wave of heat through your body, chris’ noises went straight to your core, soaking onto your panties. you could picture everything you wanted chris to do to you. a lightbulb went off in your brain before you quickly walked back down the hallway.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

after realizing how long he had been away, chris cleaned himself up and started walking back down the hallway before stopping in his tracks, seeing you stare him down from the kitchen.

“you were in there for an awfully long time.” you stated with your arms crossed over your chest. chris swallowed hard, he didn’t respond as you slowly walked towards him.

“oh, uh sorry. were you waiting for the bathroom?” he stuttered, he didn’t think he was being that loud.

“if you wanted help chris, you could’ve just asked.” you mumbled with a smile creeping on your lips.

without a second thought chris smashed his lips onto yours. he pushed your back into the kitchen counter, before pulling away. “are you okay with this?” chris asked with heavy breaths, you immediately nodded and crashed your lips onto his again. he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, the both of you fighting for dominance and hungry with desire. chris toyed with the waistband of your skirt before you broke away from the kiss.

“chris don’t tease” you whined, trailing your manicured hands on his bicep.

“tell me what you want angel.”

“please just touch me.” you whispered, barley audible but laced with need. that was all chris needed to hear before tearing your skirt and tights down to your feet, leaving you in only your lacy black panties. you gasped as chris pressed his fingers against your clothed clit.

“you think you’re so sneaky hm? bending over in front of me and showing off that pretty little ass of yours. purposely tryin to get me worked up huh?” chris taunted, attaching his lips to your neck, attacking you with wet kisses and hickies. with his free hand he pulled the delicate fabric down to your feet, exposing your soaked core to the cool air.

“barley even touched ya and you’re already soaked.” he laughed darkly. without any warning he slide one of his long fingers inside of you. an airy moan escaped your lips as chris pumped his finger in and out of you.

“can you handle another one baby? god, you look so pretty under my touch.” chris whined, using his other hand to pry your legs apart. you nodded quickly. “use your words.” he insisted.

“yes! please put in another i-i can handle it!” you moaned in desperation. chris inserted another finger, making your back arch further. his fingers curled up inside of you, repeatedly hitting the sweet spot that made you see stars. you squeezed your eyes shut and cried out when he began rubbing circles on your clit, chris pressed his lips on yours to silence your noises, not wanting his brothers to hear anything. your walls clench around his fingers, whining as he increased his speed.

the squelching noises from his fingers combined with your moans could make chris cum already. he took one of his hands and undid your shirt, groaning at the sight of your tits pushed together from the red lacy bra. detaching his lips from yours, he left a trail of wet kisses from your neck to the valley of your breasts.

“chr-chris ngh i-i’m close.” you whimpered, feeling the tension coiling tighter within you.

but the feeling had stopped, you looked at chris who had pulled his fingers away from you and into his mouth, a sinister grin on his face. before you could protest, he gripped your hips tightly and spun you around, pressing you against the kitchen counter. he ridded himself out of his sweatpants and boxers with his dick springing out and hitting his stomach. he let out low grunts as he pumped himself a couple times before lining himself with your entrance.

chris didn’t waste another second before slamming into you, causing a loud pornographic moan to rip from your throat. his animalistic pace left your hips digging into the counter, surely to leave bruises. he held your waist tightly to keep you upright as he pounds into you. chris’s hand trails down your spine and presses down on it lightly to arch your back farther allowing him to hit deeper inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy.

“mmh—fuck! f-feels so good!” you moaned as your eyes rolled back into your head. your hands scrape at the marble counter for something to keep you stable. salty tears pooled in your eyes from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

“shit—you’re so fuckin tight. i can feel your pussy squeezing around me.” chris laughs lowly next to your ear. tears stained your cheeks as you pant heavily, jolting with every moment. chris toys with your clit once more, soft moans leaving his mouth and loud ones leaving yours. he sticks his fingers between your lips causing you to gag. “shh be quiet f’me alright?”

chris continues to drill his dick into your pussy, his tip hitting the perfect spot with every thrust. sweat drips down your temple, mixing with your tear stained cheeks. you could barley even think straight as your lost in the overwhelming sensation coursing throughout your body.

“look at you, such a dirty little slut. getting fucked dumb on my cock, knowing my brothers could walk in at any second.”

the sound of your skin slapping against his echoes throughout the kitchen along with your breathless moans and his low grunts. chris takes his fingers out of your mouth before gripping your ass harshly, sending a couple hard smacks to your skin. you tremble beneath his touch as your walls spasm around his shaft, your climax building in your lower stomach.

“chris i—oh my god, mmh close—need to cum!” you babbled as tears and drool covered you cheeks. chris didn’t stop his relentless pace, continuing to pound into your tight hole.

“yeah? you gonna cum all over my cock for me sweetheart?” chris asks, landing another hard smack on your ass. you nodded as you felt the coil in your tummy threatening to snap at any second. your inner walls squeezing around his dick. “go ahead then, pretty girl, don’t hold back.”

you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your climax, releasing all over his cock that fucks your through your high. chris’s thrust become sloppy before he pulls out and paints your ass with warm white streaks. your legs shook as chris turned you around to face him, hoisting your thighs onto the countertop. he presses soft kisses on your inner thigh as you pant above him.

“you did so good f’me angel.” chris praised, prying your legs open before pressing his lips to your puffy folds. you whine from the sensitivity as he laps his tongue around your bundle of nerves, cleaning up the mess you made. your hand flew to his brunette curls, causing him to groan. his sounds vibrated against your sensitive nub. he pressed a gentle kiss before pulling away from your abused cunt with a wet pop, pulling his lips to yours. the taste of your orgasm still lingering on his lips.

chris adjusted his boxers and sweats before helping you back into your tights and skirt. he brushed a loose piece of hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss to your temple. “you okay?” you gave him a quiet “mhm” and reassuring smile before nick and matt walked into the kitchen with a disgusted look on their face.

“are you guys done yet i’m literally starving.”

𝐱𝐨𝐱𝐨, 𝐦𝐢𝐚 ♡

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆, ok so i did make some mistakes the first time posting this so im re-uploading !! this is my first time writing smut so please be nice. i can’t lie i don’t like it 😣, something about it is like really bad but I DONT KNOW. also i didn’t proofread this so if the perspectives change a lot i apologize lol. i hope u guys liked this and send me anons and asks so i can talk to u!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋆˚࿔ ౨ৎ ˚. ᵎᵎ @sirenedeslily @freshloveee

[rotapathetic]

HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE ┆ emergency contact trend ᰋ

headcannons 𖥔 injury 𖥔 himbo rafe’s introduction 𖥔

“you wouldn’t do it for her,” were the magic words. rafe mentioned doing a backflip off of the high post in front of you guys. you were hanging with rafe and his friend when rafe saw the post and said he would do it. his friend, the ever so instigator, told rafe he wouldn’t do it. that led to them going back and forth, until his friend said rafe wouldn’t do it for you.

and that’s how you found yourself watching rafe remove his shirt that wasn’t particularly required to do a flip, “that’s not funny man, anything for her,” rafe said, doing a little bounce to prepare himself for the trick.

“i didn’t ask you to,” you said, pulling out your phone. this wasn’t the first time rafe did some ridiculous stunt and you recorded.

rafe climbed onto the post, turning to you and pointing a finger at the camera, “this one’s for you,” he turned, launching himself off of the post, and landing safely. at least you thought until he turned around, revealing a bloody knee, possibly scraping it on the way down. he was all smiles, not even feeling the pain because of adrenaline. or because he’s just insane.

you stopped the recording, going up to him. rafe’s smile grew bigger at you, “was that cool?” you nodded, matching his smile before saying, “you need stitches.”

rafe browsed the aisle, tugging at your hand, “i think it’s over here, come on,” he pulled you along. he already held five games in his hand. he saw a post on social media earlier talking about this gaming series and rafe immediately needed to have it. you warned him about the total, but he couldn’t care less. his reckless spending is something you’ve gotten used to.

he stopped in front of a display case that had the game he was looking for inside, “here,” he handed you the games he carried. you grabbed them, furrowing your brow. rafe gripped the sides of the case, figuring out how to open it. he knocked at the glass, getting closer to peek in, “it’s right there, teasing me,” he said to the game.

you noticed quickly it was locked and an employee had to open it for him. rafe, of course, didn’t notice this, and continued messing with the case. he pulled at the opening, frowning when it didn’t budge. you pulled out your phone, knowing where this was headed. rafe pulled even harder, breaking the case. an alarm went off as rafe reached in to grab the game, “got it.”

a few more games started to spill out, rafe startling and trying to catch them. when they continued dropping to the floor, he looked around nervously. that’s when a security officer stepped up to you two, looking at the damage rafe had done. rafe waved at him, “this thing was very hard to open. what’s that noise?” he looked at the ceiling, just now registering the loud alarm. you stopped the recording, turning to explain what happened to the officer. rafe ended up paying a fine and buying the games still.

rafe pulled over to a spot at the gas station, getting out to get gas for the car. you sat playing on your ipad in the passenger seat. you heard a tap at your window from rafe, and you rolled it down, “yeah?” rafe stared at you, like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to and got in trouble, “um . . i think i messed up,” he said. you looked down, seeing liquid on the ground and rafe still holding the pump, “the tank rafe, put it in the tank,” you rushed out, watching him finally realize where the tank was and put it inside. you sighed, “you don’t know how to get gas?”

rafe shrugged, twisting and kicking at the ground, “i ask for help all the time. didn’t want to in front of you,” he mumbled. you smiled at him, “it’s okay to ask for help, that’s not embarrassing. you could’ve asked me,” rafe glanced up to you, “i wanted you to think i knew what i was doing, why would i ask you? did you even hear what i just said?”

you giggled at him getting riled up, “okay, fine, sorry. take the pump out, it’s done,” rafe did as you said, shaking off the pump. he laughed, “kinda looks like pee,” he put the pump between his legs, “take a picture,” he told you. you pulled out your phone, taking a video instead, rafe moved with the pump, and you put your hand over your mouth to contain laughter when a lady walked by, giving you two a look. rafe noticed her, quickly putting the pump back in its place then smiling innocently at her.

you applied the mask with the applicator, seeing rafe in the mirror behind you. you giggled, “you can come in,” he stepped inside hesitantly.

“this is your you time, i didn’t wanna interrupt . . it just looks cool,” he stared as you continued applying. you extended the applicator to him, “want some?” rafe glanced up to you, “really? i can?” he asked excitedly.

you nodded and two minutes later, you guys were rocking matching face masks. you grabbed your phone and started recording when rafe poked at his, “so i’m gonna look like you? ’cause your skin is really pretty, i’m gonna have skin like you?” you nodded behind the camera. you put yourself in frame, recording you two. rafe was still staring in awe into the mirror, turning his head this way and that. he looked down to the camera, grinning big.

[holyblonded]

other mother | stargirl

pairings: olga rios x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader, jenni hermoso x teen!reader

summary: jenni is in town and your closeness with her has olga feeling insecure as her position as your mother

notes: my inbox was flooded with people asking for this so here yall go 😀

“It’s Jenni Day!” you cheered as you practically skipped down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet in excitement. The smell of your favorite omelet filled the air, and when you entered the kitchen, you saw Olga at the stove, expertly flipping an egg while Alexia sat at the breakfast bar, sipping her tea.

“Jenni Day, Jenni Day, Jenni Day!” You chanted, throwing in a dramatic spin before moonwalking across the kitchen floor.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head at your antics. “I take it you’re excited?”

“Yes! Do you know why?” You grinned, pointing at her like a game show host about to reveal the grand prize. “Because it’s Jenni Day!”

You launched into another celebratory dance, arms flailing, feet shuffling, completely lost in your own little world. Alexia laughed into her tea, and even Olga cracked a smile as she plated your omelet.

“You have way too much energy this early,” Olga mused, setting your plate in front of you.

“Of course I do! Jenni is coming, and it’s been forever since I last saw her!” You threw yourself into the stool next to Alexia, bouncing in place. “We’re still going to the airport to pick her up, right?”

Alexia nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. You frowned, confused, whoever was here was intruding on your special celebration.

Alexia stood to answer it, but the moment the door swung open, a familiar voice rang out.

“¡Mi pequeño diabla!” (My little devil)

Your eyes widened in pure joy. “Jenni!”

Without hesitation, you bolted from your seat, sprinting across the kitchen and launching yourself into her arms. Jenni caught you with ease, laughing as she lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.

“My diablita, look at you! Have you grown? Or am I just getting old?” she teased, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over your face.

You giggled, squeezing her tight. “You’re ancient, Jenni.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “¡Qué mala!” She set you down only for you to immediately latch onto her side, practically glued to her as you dragged her toward the breakfast bar.

“Okay, okay, come sit! I have so much to tell you!” You pulled her into the seat next to yours, eyes bright with excitement. “You missed so much! Oh my god, wait, did you see my last match? And also, you have to see this new trick I learned— oh! And guess what? I have a girlfriend now! Her name is Soleil, and she’s the best, and I need to show you pictures—”

Jenni listened with an amused smile, nodding along as you spoke a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with your hands.

Meanwhile, Olga, who had turned back to the stove, found herself oddly quiet. She glanced over her shoulder at the way you clung to Jenni, the way you looked at her like she hung the moon, and something inside her twisted.

She knew Jenni had been in your life for years, had played a huge role in your childhood, especially when she and Alexia had been together. She understood the excitement, the affection— but still, as she stood there, spatula in hand, watching you practically vibrate with happiness in Jenni’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel like she was standing on the outside looking in.

Alexia noticed the shift in Olga’s demeanor, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way she suddenly seemed overly focused on the eggs she was cooking.

“You okay?” Alexia murmured, nudging Olga gently.

Olga forced a small smile. “Yeah… just not used to being replaced so quickly.”

Alexia sighed, wrapping an arm around Olga’s waist and pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple. “She loves you, you know that.”

“I know,” Olga admitted. “But right now, I think I’m just the lady who made her breakfast.”

Before Alexia could respond, your voice rang out again.

“Olga, come sit with us!” You turned to her, waving her over with an enthusiastic hand. “You have to hear this story Jenni’s telling!”

Olga hesitated for a split second before schooling her expression, pushing aside the small pang of insecurity.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, finally taking the empty seat next to you.

And when you instinctively reached for her hand, squeezing it without even looking as you continued talking to Jenni, Olga felt some of that uncertainty ease.

The bell above the door chimed as you bounced into your favorite café, your hand wrapped around Soleil’s while Jenni strolled beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders like she never left. Alexia and Olga trailed behind, already making their way to the counter to order drinks while you led Jenni and Soleil to a cozy booth near the window.

“You’re gonna love this place,” you told Jenni, excitement bubbling in your voice. “They have the best pastries, and they always write little messages on the coffee cups.”

Jenni smirked, sliding into the seat across from you and Soleil. “I trust your taste, mi diablita.”

You turned to Soleil, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you two sooner! Jenni basically helped raise me. Like, she taught me how to ride a bike, took me to all my first pro matches, and—” you leaned in, stage whispering—“everything I know about being a striker? All from her.”

Soleil smiled warmly, looking at Jenni with clear appreciation. “That explains why you’re such a menace on the field.”

Jenni grinned. “Ah, so you’ve witnessed her chaos firsthand.”

Soleil laughed. “Every day.”

You laughed too, leaning into Jenni’s side and hugging her tightly. “She’s the best, Sol. When Ale and Jenni were dating, she was always around, always looking out for me. And even after… you know, they broke up, she never disappeared. She’s family.”

Jenni pressed a fond kiss to your temple. “Always.”

Across the café, Olga stood in line, watching the interaction with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. You were radiant, so full of joy, clinging to Jenni like she was your lifeline. The way you looked at her, the way you spoke about her, all of it made Olga’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew Jenni had been a part of your life long before she had. She knew Jenni had played a big role in raising you. But knowing it and watching it were two different things.

Alexia, standing beside her, caught the shift in Olga’s expression immediately. Without hesitation, she bumped Olga’s shoulder gently. “You good, amor?”

Olga plastered on a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

Alexia didn’t buy it for a second. “You’re watching them like they just stole your puppy.”

Olga sighed, glancing away. “I just… she clearly loves Jenni. And I get it, Jenni was there when she was little, she taught her all these things, helped raise her—” she exhaled sharply— “but I’m supposed to be her mother now. And sometimes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill that space the way Jenni did.”

Alexia frowned, reaching for Olga’s hand and squeezing it. “Olga, you are her mother. She chose you, we chose you. That doesn’t change just because she loves Jenni too.”

Olga’s grip tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. “I know, but it’s different. She looks at Jenni like she’s the person who made her who she is. I just… I don’t want to be second place in something that means everything to me.”

Olga’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she watched you practically drape yourself over Jenni, your eyes shining with admiration as you told Soleil story after story about how Jenni had shaped you. Every time you hugged Jenni, every time you laughed at something she said, every time you looked at her like she was one of the most important people in your world— it chipped away at something deep inside Olga.

She wasn’t jealous, not exactly. It wasn’t that she wanted to erase Jenni’s role in your life. It was the fear that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much love she gave, no matter how fiercely she protected you, she would always be playing catch up to the people who had come before her.

Jenni had been there for your firsts. Your first bike ride, your first professional match, your first real football lessons. She had guided you, shaped you, made you into the player, and person, you were now. And Olga? She had come in when you were already a teenager, already formed, already carrying years of love for people who had been there long before she was.

Would you ever look at her the way you looked at Jenni? Would you ever talk about her like that, with that same effortless fondness, that same unshakable attachment? Or would she always be the afterthought, the one who came later, the one who did the daily work of being your mother but never quite felt like she had earned the title?

She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they stuck, clinging to her like wet clothes. The café was warm, but suddenly, she felt cold.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of the bathroom light spilling in through the cracked door. The sound of running water filled the silence, Alexia still in the shower. You padded in quietly, rubbing your tired eyes, ready to burrow under the blankets and curl up against Olga like you did every night. But as you climbed onto the bed, something felt… off.

Olga was facing away from you, curled into herself, her shoulders rising and falling in uneven breaths. The second you got closer, you heard it— a soft sniff, barely audible, but enough to make your chest tighten.

“Olga?” you murmured, shifting closer, pressing against her back. “What’s wrong?”

She stiffened, wiping at her face quickly. “Nothing, nena. Just tired.”

Liar. You frowned, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re sniffling.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Allergies.”

You huffed. “You don’t have allergies.”

She didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand and squeezed it, like that would be enough to convince you she was fine. But you weren’t convinced. You could feel the sadness radiating off her, pressing into the space between you.

You lay there for a moment, racking your brain. What could’ve happened? She’d been fine earlier at the café. Or at least, she’d seemed fine. Maybe something happened after? You were deep in thought when you caught movement from the bathroom door.

Alexia had stepped out, her hair damp, her towel wrapped around her as she glanced at Olga and then at you. The moment you made eye contact, she raised her brows and nodded toward Olga, then dramatically mimicked wiping away tears.

You squinted at her. She nodded toward the door, signaling that she was leaving you to it, but not before she started her silent charades. She made a small motion, pointing at herself, then at Olga, then at you. Then she held up one finger. First? No. She repeated the movement, then mimed kicking a ball, then pointed at you again. Your brain worked through it. First. Football. You. It was about Jenni. Everything clicked at once, the way Olga had gone quiet while you were talking to Jenni, the way she lingered at the edge of the conversation instead of joining in. She was feeling insecure.

Alexia gave you a knowing look before slipping back into the bathroom, leaving you alone with Olga.

You exhaled softly, tightening your grip on her waist as you pressed your forehead against her shoulder. “Is this about Jenni?”

Olga’s breath hitched for a second before she let out a small laugh, watery and tired. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, just curled further into her, letting the silence settle before you spoke again. “Olga,” you started softly, “I need you to hear me, okay?”

She didn’t answer, but you could feel her breathing, steady but fragile, like she was waiting for you to say something that would make this ache in her chest go away.

You took a deep breath. “You are my mom.” You said it plainly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Jenni was there for me when I was a kid, yeah, and I’ll always love her for that, but that doesn’t take away from you. It never could.”

Olga stayed quiet, but you felt her relax just a little.

“You have been there for me in ways no one else has,” you continued. “You were there when I signed my first contract. You held my hand through that whole process because I was freaking out. You were there when I made my debut. You were the first person I looked for when I got subbed on. Do you know that?”

Olga swallowed. “Nena…”

“No, listen.” You sat up slightly, resting your weight on your elbow as you looked at her. “You were there the first time I got called up to the USWNT. You were there when I scored my first international goal, screaming like a crazy person in the stands. You were the one who stayed up with me when I had that awful stomach bug last year, even though you had training the next morning. You always carry snacks for me in your bag, you know exactly how I like my tea, you check in on me even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Olga wiped at her eyes, her lip trembling.

“You do all of that because you’re my mom, Mama.” Your voice softened. “You are the one who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I had a home, who made me believe that being loved wasn’t something I had to fight for.”

She let out a quiet sob, turning in your arms to pull you against her. You felt the dampness of her tears against your shirt as she buried her face in your shoulder, and you held her as tightly as she held you.

“I love you,” you whispered. “So much. I don’t care how many people were there before you, you are my mom. No one could ever replace you.”

Olga squeezed you impossibly tighter. “I love you too, mi niña.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the sound of Alexia clearing her throat from the bathroom doorway made you both look up.

“If you’re done making me cry from the other side of the door,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “can I get in on this cuddle session?”

You laughed, tugging Olga down with you as Alexia climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around both of you. And as you lay there, safe in the warmth of your family, you felt ii, Olga’s steady heartbeat beneath your palm, the rise and fall of her breath, the silent, unspoken promise that she was yours and you were hers, and that would never change.

[classyrbf]

THE MAN I USED TO KNOW! #2 — SUGURU GETO

SYNOPSIS...you feel suguru has grown distant your relationship, leaving you lonely and confused, so when you confront him in hopes to find reassurance, you find out the worst instead

INFO...geto x fem!reader, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakup, arguing in public, no comfort, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It’s been a month since you left the apartment. A month since he’s last heard your voice. A month since he’s last seen you. He can’t tell what’s so different now, what makes him feel like he suddenly cares about you and how things ended. In his mind it doesn’t make any sense. How could someone be said he fell out of love with, cheated on, suddenly be plaguing his heart like a disease. You were hard to get rid of.

He stays up at night, staring up at the ceiling after trying hours and hours to fall asleep, only to fail. The house is so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the bed feels so empty and cold. Not a sound could be heard, not your small breaths as you slept, or your touch when you cuddled against him in the night because you wanted to feel loved by him.

He twisted and turned in the bed, flipping over to your side, staring at the pillow. He swears he could smell your perfume faintly on the fabric, but that could be his mind playing tricks on him. It’s been doing that ever since. Dinner was always takeout, never the warm home cooked meals that you always had prepared. He was starting to get sick of the taste, opting out of eating in general because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replicate your cooking.

A deep sigh leaves his lips as he sit up, feet planting on the hardwood floor. His phone rings loudly, illuminating the dark room. He slowly turns his head, looking at the caller ID. It was the woman who he threw everything away for temporary pleasure. He’d been ignoring her calls ever since that day and he doesn’t know what overcame him, but he decided to finally pick up the call. “Hello?” He answered, voice scruffy and gravely.

“Suguru! Finally you pick up! Why have you been ignoring my texts and calls?” She asked frantically.

He rolled his eyes, shutting them. “It’s the middle of the night can we not do this?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Is it because of her? Are you two still together? I thought you said you were going to end things with her eventually? What changed?” She was asking question after question which only made him more irritated than he already was. “I miss you, Sugu,” she pouted.

The nickname made him wince, reminding him of how gently you used to call his name. “I need to go.” He abruptly hung up the call. His thumb hovered over his screen, pressing on his messages and scrolling to find your name. His jaw clenched at the sight of the contact name he had for you, forgetting to change it.

“My girl” it read.

He clicked on the contact, eyes scanning over the last messages that were sent. It was the day he told you, the day it all fell apart.

Geto: might be a little late for dinner

My girl: no worries, I’ll keep it warm :)

Even when you were falling apart you always treated him with kindness. It was never about the arguments, not with you. Yeah, sure you’d fight with each other, screaming matches back and forth. But, that’s normal in a relationship. Sometimes things lead to disagreements. It’s only when he took it too far, grew distant, fell out of love, cheated, while you were at home, waiting for him each and every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, contemplating to text you. He stares at the screen for a few more seconds before deciding to close his phone, placing it back down on the nightstand.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the air, a quiet atmosphere settled around you as you sat at a small table, scrolling through social media. It was a cold early morning, soft snow flurries fell from the cloudy sky and painted the ground in a blinding white. It was the perfect day to relax in a cozy coffee shop and enjoy yourself, something you haven’t done in a long time.

From time to time, your brain wanders to that night you found out Suguru was cheating on you. It still makes your heart twinge, an odd feeling in your chest. You’d cry countless times in one day, wondering what it was that you did, how you could have been better. There were so many questions that you still had to ask, but you weren’t sure if you wanted answers. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You’d think about them, wondering if Suguru and whoever the woman he was seeing were now happy together, living in the apartment that you once shared with him.

You sipped on your coffee, the hot liquid trickling down your throat. The cold breeze from the outside blew into the coffee shop as the door opened for a few seconds, the bell above letting out a high pitched ding.

“Morning, could I small latte, please?” The familiar voice made your body freeze in place, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Lifting your head, you seen the familiar long, black, silky hair. Quickly, you looked away, scrolling on your phone. The longer you looked at him, the more afraid you’d threaten to break down in tears, maybe even scream at him. “Thank you,” he softly spoke.

It felt like time froze, the more you sat here, the harder it felt to get up. Did he already see you? Maybe he’s ignoring you too? While your thoughts were telling you one thing, trying to convince you of some other reality, you could feel eyes burning into your skull. You didn’t dare turn around to see if he was looking at you. With flared nostrils, you inhaled deeply, clearly your throat to rid of the awkwardness, mindlessly scrolling on your phone to make it look like you were busy.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the barista called for his coffee, you were quick to stand from your seat, grabbing your wallet and coffee off the table and making a dash for the door. The cold winter breeze hit your skin as soon as you stepped out, a cold chill sending down your spine.

“Y/n.” You halted in your tracks at the sound of your name. With closed eyes, you let out a deep sigh. Do you keep walking? Do you turn around and face him? Would you be able to keep your composure for even a second if your eyes meet his?

The snow under your feet stuck to your boots, heels twisting into the ground. You were now facing him. It felt like every memory that you shared with him came flashing back in an instant—good and bad. Your heart felt conflicted, knowing you still had time to walk away. His mouth partially opened like he wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He looked defeated, stuck in place. His eyes could do nothing but scan your features, search for any hint that you were felt the same for him like he felt for you. But he highly doubts that. “How have you been?” He asked.

Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Fine.” You shrugged. Your tone was bitter and cold, one that he wasn’t familiar with. There you both stood in the middle of the sidewalk, snowflakes kissing your skin, stinging your cheeks. “What do you want, Geto?”

The use of his last name makes his heart sink into his stomach, a weird feeling in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with pinched brows. “I…I don’t know,” he said barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t get to say you’re sorry when you don’t mean it. You’re only saying it because you got caught. I don’t think you understand what you did. At all.” Surprisingly, your voice was calm and composed compared to the last time you spoke with him. It was hard not to lash out, but you knew it wouldn’t make you feel any better than you already did. “I loved you, Geto. It’s sad that you didn’t realize that sooner. Look,” you step closer to him, “I don’t know where our relationship took such a turn, I don’t know the exact moment you fell out of love, but I genuinely hope you find someone who is worth your time.” You softly smiled.

“You were worth my time!” He said with desperation, almost like he was begging.

“No, I wasn’t. And it’s fine, I accept that.” You nod your head at him. “You can feel regret, you can change your mind, but you can’t undo what you did,” you state.

“I miss you, y/n, so fucking much. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I ever think about is you, how I hurt you, brushed you aside—”

“Just stop, please. Nothing is going to change my mind, no matter what you say.” You chew on your bottom lip, a look of sincerity in your eyes.

“No, don’t say that. Come on. Please,” he begs, watery eyes looking at you.

“Let me go, Geto. It’s best for the both of us.” You felt your eyes sting with tears, your vision blurry as you tried your hardest to hold them back. You didn’t want him to see you cry again, he didn’t deserve it.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I can’t?” He had a pained expression on his face, closing the distance between you two. It’s the closest he’s been able to get you, the closest he’s felt to you in long time. He doesn’t mean physically, he means emotionally, mentally. It shouldn’t be under these circumstances, not when he’s ripped your heart in two. It should be when he’s holding you at home, his lips on yours as he tells you how much he loves you, because he does love you. He realized it when you walked out that door.

“Then I’ll make the decision for you.” You turned away from him beginning to walk away, the cold wing hitting your skin, your eyes burning.

Geto pulled you back by your hand, your touch warm and soft in his. “I’m not letting you walk away again.”

“Let me go, Geto—”

“I love you, y/n. I need you. I wanna feel your love again, your warmth, your laughs, I want it all.” His grip grew tighter, a tear falling from his eye as he stared at you. A frown formed on his face, the tears he was holding back all this time came rushing out.

“You didn’t want it then. What makes you think you deserve it now? Huh? Now you know how it feels.” Your tone was harsh, like sending daggers straight into his heart. You snatched your hand from his. “You cheated over a petty argument, not once, not twice, but several times you’d meet up with her, lie to my face! Do you know what went through my head? How disgusted I felt with myself? I was questioning my worth, wondering if I was enough for anyone! I shouldn’t fucking feel like that!” You pushed him, hot tears warming your cold cheeks. “Leave me alone! Please! Just do this one thing for me.” You sniffled, your feet moving before you could think, walking away from him.

Once more, he watched you slip away, your figure disappearing into the snow. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the cup of fresh coffee he had yet to take a sip from. He tossed it. The content spilling on spilling on the ground and staining the glistening snow. He no longer had an appetite for anything anymore. The pit inside his chest grew larger, sucking him in like a black hole.

He stood there for what felt like minutes, hoping, waiting to see you walking towards him again. But the wind just howled loudly and the cars drove past without a care in the world. Everyone has their own lives to live, their own stories. Though, in his story, he’d live with regret, guilt, and shame until the very end. Even if he does manage to find someone else, love someone else, live his life to the fullest, just know you’d always be in back of his mind as a reminder of every horrible thing about himself.

[januaryembrs]

just rewatched 4x24 amplification so here’s a silly thought

reader and spence get stuck together & reader just flirts with him the whole time and he’s like ‘please help me in finding something to go off of’ and she’s just like ‘anyone ever tell you you look good all sick and sweaty reid’

meanwhile penelope is on the verge of a panic attack

PRETTY | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: Spencer seems to be the only one keeping it together when the two of you get hit with the new Anthrax strain.

length: 450wds

warnings: anthrax, sweating, intoxication, flirting

“How’s she doing?” Penelope asked, her voice crackly and quiet through the phone as Spencer rooted around the office for the cure to whatever strain of Anthrax their UnSub had cooked up. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling his hair sticking to the back of his neck with the sweat that gathered there. “She’s…” He trailed off, flipping a look over his shoulder where you were leaned against the desk, your head a little wobbly and heavy as you strained to keep yourself upright, “She’s hanging in there,” 

“Did I ever tell you how handsome you are with the long hair, Reid?” You slurred, sounding somewhat drunk as you spoke, no doubt a byproduct of the fever, and he hoped you weren’t in any pain, since you didn’t seem in any state to complain. You seemed euphoric if anything, judging by the intoxicated grin on your face as you reached for him, your hands lightly sheened in sweat. 

“Yes, you did,” Spencer replied, his cheeks burning with more than the high temperature that he was running, “Multiple times. Sweetheart, do you reckon you could help me look for the cure?”

“Sure!” You hopped away from the counter, almost throwing yourself to the ground in your excitement, and you felt the room spinning as you reached up to the cabinet above his head to search for the medication, “When this is all over, you gotta let me put some cute braids in it or something, Spence, I mean you’re really missing a trick-”

“Ofcourse, you can put the prettiest pigtails in my hair, the second we find that antidote,” He promised, his agile fingers flicking through every drawer in the cabinet, despite the fact his chest was pounding at your flirtatious tone. 

“Reid, that does not sound like she’s hanging in, that sounds very much the opposite of hanging in there,” Penelope rushed through the line, her fingers whizzing across her keyboard, the clicking clear through Spencer’s speaker, “She wants to primp you like you’re little girls in a playground, Reid, that is not hanging in there- oh good heavens I think I need a happy place right about now,” 

“I’ll say,” Spencer said where his head was in the fridge, rooting through the packs of diet coke and sparkling water the scientists had. He felt fingers rooting through his hair, and he sighed as he glanced up at your dazed expression, because he hated telling you no, “Cure first, honey, then you can braid my hair,”

“Right! Right, sorry it’s just so pretty, you’re just so pretty-” You mumbled, helping him empty out all of the files onto the floor so he could start skim reading. 

He hoped for his own sake the paramedics close. 

[undyingdecay]

Maybe John with a virgin reader or inexperienced reader? He'd totally trick his girlfriend with the whole "just the tip* thing, but he'd be and nice as he could be, which is still kinda mean

But that's why we love him🫣🫣

(tw: reader is faintly implied to be a virgin or not have tons of experience)

john would absolutely pull the just the tip lie EVERY SINGLE DMAN TIMEE. he wouldn’t even pretend to feel bad about it, either — maybe for a second, but it would pass the moment your pretty little face went slack and your voice caught in your throat. he’s a bastard like that. not cruel, not exactly. just the kind of mean that wraps itself up in tenderness until you can’t tell where one stops and the other starts.

he’d be so good at it too. soft hands, soft voice. coaxing you into his lap, murmuring about how 'we’ll just see how it feels, sweetheart. i won’t push in all the way, i swear. wouldn’t do that to you.' lying through his tEeth, ofc. but it sounds so sweet coming from him you want to believe it. you tell yourself you can handle it. you trust him.

he makes you straddle him because it’s easier that way, easier for you to ease down slow, easier for him to watch your face when it happens. he likes watching. likes seeing that wide-eyed shock when you realize it’s more than you thought it would be, that your body’s not used to being stretched like this. 'hurts a little, doesn’t it?' he’ll murmur it against your skin, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. 's’okay, baby. you’re doin’ so good.'

and when he promises it’s just the tip — when he lets you sink down just enough to feel that sharp, unfamiliar ache and then stops, palm splayed against your lower back, holding you there — you believe him. you really do. because his eyes are soft and his voice is low and everything in you wants so badly to be good for him.

but it never stops at the tip. not with him.

he’ll rub your back, tell you how warm you are, 'how tight, how fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart', and before you can even catch your breath he’s guiding your hips down just a little more. telling you it’s alright, you’ve already taken the worst of it, might as well finish what you started. and you’ll go with it because it feels good in a way that terrifies you, makes your head spin, makes your stomach flip. because it hurts but it hurts nice, and john’s voice in your ear is the only thing keeping you grounded.

he’d still be as nice as he could manage about it. which, with john, isn’t very nice at all. he won’t tease you for crying — no, he likes the tears, likes how they make you cling tighter, how you bury your face against his neck to muffle the soft, embarrassing sounds spilling out of you. he won’t laugh when your thighs tremble or when you beg him to slow down, though he might hum a little, a smug, pleased sound that rumbles in his chest because you begging for anything turns him inside out.

he’d kiss your temple, your jaw, your mouth, sloppy and hungry, like he can’t get enough of you now that he’s got you like this. 'fuck, baby, you’re so good for me. look at you. takin’ it so well.' and you’d whimper, you’d arch into him, chasing every scrap of praise like a starved thing, even though it stings, even though you know you shouldn’t let him do this to you.

but you would. and he knows it.

when he finally bottoms out — because of course he does — he’ll shush your little gasp like it’s something fragile, kiss your wet cheeks, tell you you did so good, tell you 'almost done, baby, i got you.' and he’ll stay there for a moment, buried inside you, just feeling the way you flutter around him, the way your nails dig crescents into his shoulders. like he’s earned it. like this was always meant to happen.

and when you finally calm down, when your breathing evens out and your thighs stop shaking, he’ll fuck you slow, deep, every push a reminder of how you let him have you, how you trusted him even when you shouldn’t have. he won’t say it out loud — doesn’t need to. it’s written in every languid thrust, in the way his hands hold you like he owns you now.

[not-neverland06]

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[the-internets-girlfriend]

Six Matches, One Love - Harry Lewis

Harry Lewis x Reader (1500+ words)

From sideline banter to stadium-wide declarations of love, follow Harry Lewis and Y/N through every iconic Sidemen Charity Match as their friendship slowly evolves into something unforgettable.

warnings: alcohol consumption,

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

masterlist x

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

1.Charity Match 2016 - The Beginning

St. Mary's Stadium was buzzing life. People are shouting, vlogging, chanting. You're sat first row away from the field. Clutched in your hand is a handmade sign that reads, "GO HARRY GO," written in obnoxiously large glitter letters. You made it to mess with him more than anything else. Just friends, after all. Best mates since school... and nothing more.

Harry spots the sign during his warm-up on the field. Doing a double take of which dissolves in laughter. He jogs to the sidelined.

"You're actually insane," he calls out as he jogs.

You grin as he comes closer to stand on the sideline. "Only for you, Harold."

He catches your over-exaggerated blown kiss and dramatically throws it to the ground like he thought it be the worse thing in the world. The banter's easy with him, drawing a fine line between joking around together and flirting.

You watch the match, yelling out his name every time he gets near the ball. He doesn't score, but he gives it everything. When the final whistle blows, you make your way over with the crowd of fans and friends.

"You were class," you say as he wipes a towel across his forehead.

He shrugs, smiling and resting the towel across his shoulders. "You screaming my name name helped, obviously."

You laugh, in hopes of hiding your blush. That's all it is. Laughter, friendship, teasing.

But later that night, scrolling through blurry videos and clips of the match, you pause on a still of Harry looking in your direction.

And your stomach flips.

A small part of hope settling.

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

2. Charity Match 2017 - A Shift

This year, it's bigger. The Valley. More fans, more camera, more pressure. But Harry is still the same. Loud, energetic, clumsy and confused.

Before kickoff, he jogs over to where you're standing just beyond the pitch - your special access lanyard granted from Harry.

"Nervous?" You ask.

"Only cause you're here," he says casually, then smirks. "Gotta impress my girl with the special lanyard." He reaches for your lanyard and giving it a tug - pulling you closer ever so slightly.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush at the sudden closeness. That wasn't normal banter. Was it?

He play like he's on fire. Scores a goal and points at you on the sideline. You swear he winks but just think maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

Later, backstage with everyone buzzing, you find him in the hallway - freshly showered. He was wearing sidemen merchandise; his hair still damp from the water.

There was no cameras. No crowd.

"You looked good out there," you say. It feels heavy. Almost like you meant a double meaning.

He pauses. "You always look good."

Your eyes meet. Nether of you speaks. For the first time in your friendship, silence is loud.

You laugh nervously - brushing the comment under the mat thinking he meant nothing of it. "Smooth."

"I try."

A voice is heard from behind him, Simon calling him back to film some extra parts. You bid goodbye and walk away, and he watched you go.

And for the first time, you're both wondering: what are we doing?

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

3. Charity Match 2018- The Almost

The energy this year is electric again. Harry's in top form, yelling instructions, cracking jokes. Your sign this year is smaller - a picture included, but he still beams when he sees it.

You're pulled into the afterparty later than planned, a little tipsy from champagne floating in the warmth of another successful day. You find Harry leaning against a balcony, looking out over London, a beer in his hand.

"Hey you," he says when you join him - offering a sip of his beer to you. "Didn't lose you to Tobi's dance floor domination, then?"

You smile, taking a swig on the beer and handing it back - folding your arms next to him.

There's a long pause - he turns to look at you.

Really look at you - taking it all your features.

You turn with a puzzled look.

"I've been thinking about us," he says finally.

Your heart skips. Your heart beating for the conversation you have been waiting for.

But before Harry can continue, Tobi calls him from the inside before he can say more. You glance at the doorway, then back at Harry.

"Later?" You say.

He nods, eye soft. "Promise."

But later never comes.

You both leave the party in different Ubers.

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

4. Charity Match 2022 - The Kiss

After a few years of no matches, the return is massive. The stadium is packed, and millions are watching the livestream. You're standing on the sidelines again, lanyard still around your neck - curiosity of Harry again.

You and Harry have stayed as close as ever. Always texting, calling, somehow orbiting each other without crossing the line - the 'later' conversation never coming up once again.

As the players warm up, you're chatting with Talia and Sarah when Harry jogs by.

"He's practically glowing," Sarah says, grinning.

"That's the Y/N effect," Talia teases, nudging you.

You roll your eyes - use to the constant teasing from the group, but you can't help smiling.

During the match, every time Harry touches the ball, JJ and Ethan standing on the sideline shout exaggerated commentary in your direction: "And he's looking to impress someone in the stands!"

When Harry scores a long rage banger, he doesn't celebrate with his team.

Instead - he runs to the camera, blows a kiss, then mouths your name.

The internet erupts - reposts everyone all over Twitter; as fans start recalling every shared moment between you and Harry.

After the final whistle, the players are swarmed by fans and staff, but Harry makes a beeline for you.

"I don't care if everyone knows," he says, breathless. "I've been pretending I haven't been in love with my best friend for years. I'm done."

Your hearth thuds.

Tobi and Simon spot the two of you from a distance, and immediately start whistling and clapping like idiots.

You grab Harry's shirt and kiss him, right there among the boots, jerseys and sidemen.

You're not pretending anymore.

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

5. Charity Match 2023 - The World Watching

This time, you walk in together - wearing Harry's number in support of your boyfriend.

Harry's holding your hand. Cameras flash, fans cheer.

No more hiding.

"Nervous?" You whisper before he runs off to warm up.

"Not with you here," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As the match begins, the boys are relentless - as they have been the past year constantly teasing you and Harry.

Ethan shouts from across the pitch, "Harry, don't mess up! Y/N's watching!"

JJ joins in with exaggerated swooning every time Harry runs.

You're in the stands next to Freya, who is laughing every time the camera cuts to your reaction.

Harry scores again, of course. The celebration is simple this time - a heart drawn in the air and a wink your way.

After the match, he records a behind-the-scenes vlog, dragging you into frame.

"This is Y/N, everyone loves her. The reason I've ever scored a goal in my life."

You laugh, pushing him off-camera. But the internet is is love. With him. With you. With your story.

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

6. Charity Match 2025 - The Proposal

You feel it coming all day.

He's acting weird, not nervous, just - shifty. Like he's got secrets. And for once, not the kind he'll tell you... yet.

The match is intense. He misses a shot early on, then comes back with a clean goal in the second half. The crowd goes wild.

But instead of a celebration, he runs to the sideline. To you.

You blink, confused, as he stops in front you, catching his breath.

Then he drops to one knee.

The stadium freezes. Even the players stop.

"Y/N," he pants, eyes wide and full of love, "you've been there for every match, every goal, every miss for so many years. I don't want to play another one without knowing you're mine forever. Will you marry me?"

Your heart could burst. You throw your arms around him.

"Of course I will, you idiot."

The stadium explodes. You lean down to press a kiss to Harry's lips. The Sidemen rush to his side after, Tobi lifting Harry onto his shoulders while Ethan leans up to give you a hug.

That night, at the celebration party, Harry holds your hand tight.

"Told you I'd score two for you," he says, kissing you knuckles as he admires the ring.

Your scored the one that mattered."

And he did.

⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎⚽︎

Hi all! I hope you enjoyed my first Harry post.

See you soon,

mwah x

[mikkies]

「 THROUGH SELF PITY AND MALICE, MY LOVE WILL NEVER EVER FALTER. 」

007n7 x GN! Reader x 1x1x1x1

warnings: none!

notes: super OOC since I legit ran out of ideas😿

➷ — General Dynamics

You’re the grounding force in this chaotic triangle. Between 007n7’s self-doubt and 1x1x1x1’s sheer intensity, you manage to bring a strange but much-needed balance.

1x1x1x1’s volatile and powerful nature often contrasts with 007n7’s more logical and resourceful demeanor, but both of them are drawn to your warmth and understanding.

Despite their differences, they have a grudging respect for each other—one that grows as they both realize how much they care about you.

➹ — With 007n7

As a former hacker, 007n7 is resourceful and surprisingly tech-savvy. He’s always tinkering with something or coming up with clever solutions to any problem you face. 

He tries to impress you with his skills, whether it’s bypassing a locked system or showing you some harmless tricks he coded.

While he’s no longer the chaotic figure he used to be, there’s a mischievous streak in him that comes out around you—like playfully teasing you or setting up silly pranks to make you laugh. 

He’s incredibly protective of you, not just physically but emotionally too. He knows the weight of regret and wants to make sure you never feel the way he once did.

➹ — With 1x1x1x1

1x1x1x1 is enigmatic and intense. They don’t express emotions in typical ways but have a deep, almost otherworldly attachment to you.

She show their care through grand gestures—like creating entire realms just to share something unique with you or summoning rot creatures to protect you in times of danger.

Despite his intimidating presence, they have a softer side that only you get to see. Sometimes she'll sit silently with you, the flames around them dimmed, their gaze filled with an unspoken fondness.

1x1x1x1 struggles with comprehending his own emotions, but they’re fiercely loyal to you, always standing between you and any harm.

Watching them interact is an experience. 007n7’s witty sarcasm often meets 1x1x1x1’s blunt, no-nonsense responses, resulting in hilarious exchanges.

While 007n7 is cautious around 1x1x1x1’s power, he secretly admires their strength, even if he’ll never admit it. Likewise, 1x1x1x1 respects 007n7’s intelligence, even if he mocks his flip-flops and dad bod.

You often end up being the peacekeeper, pulling them out of arguments and reminding them of the bigger picture.

007n7’s affection is subtle but heartfelt. He loves little gestures, like fixing your devices without asking or sneaking in compliments during casual conversations.

1x1x1x1’s affection is more overwhelming—flames that don’t burn you, whispered promises of eternity, and a gaze that seems to pierce into your soul.

Despite their differences, both of them make sure you feel cherished. Their combined efforts often leave you feeling like the most important person in the world.

007n7 is haunted by his past as a hacker and often worries about whether he’s truly changed. He confides in you about his insecurities, seeking your reassurance. 

1x1x1x1 struggles with managing their own negativity and malice. Sometimes she pushes you away, fearing they’ll hurt you—but your patience and understanding always bring him back.

007n7 loves your ability to see the good in people, even in someone like him. You remind him that he’s capable of being better.

1x1x1x1 is drawn to your unwavering presence. You ground him, offering a sense of stability in their otherwise chaotic existence.

007n7 once showed off his hacking skills by creating a harmless prank for you, like making your favorite music play randomly in the background. You couldn’t help but laugh at his playful grin.

1x1x1x1 tried to teach you how to summon rot creatures, but when one of them started chasing 007n7 around, you both burst into laughter (well, 1x1x1x1 laughed—a rare and unsettling but oddly endearing sound).

The three of you once explored a surreal landscape created by 1x1x1x1. 007n7 complained about the lack of Wi-Fi, but by the end of the trip, even he had to admit it was breathtaking.

Between 007n7’s wit and resourcefulness and 1x1x1x1’s raw power and intensity, life with them is never dull. They may come from vastly different worlds, but their shared love for you creates a bond that’s as unpredictable as it is unbreakable.