#Physics revision notes

[vavaclasses]

Class 12 Basic Properties of Electric Charge Notes for Students

Introduction:

Electric charge is a fundamental property of matter that causes it to experience a force when placed in an electromagnetic field. Understanding the basic properties of electric charge is crucial for students preparing for board exams, JEE, and IIT entrance exams. This study material provides an in-depth exploration of these properties, ensuring a solid foundation for further study in physics.

Key Properties of Electric Charge

1. Quantization of Charge

Electric charge is quantized, meaning it exists in discrete amounts rather than a continuous range. The fundamental unit of charge is the charge of an electron (e) or proton (+e), where e = 1.6 × 10^-19 coulombs.

All charges are integral multiples of this elementary charge, i.e., Q = n × e, where n is an integer.

2. Conservation of Charge

The total electric charge in an isolated system remains constant over time. This is known as the conservation of charge.

During any physical process, the total charge before and after the process remains the same, indicating that charge cannot be created or destroyed.

3. Additivity of Charge

Electric charges can be added algebraically. When two charges are combined, the total charge is the algebraic sum of the individual charges.

For example, if a system has charges Q1 and Q2, the total charge Q_total = Q1 + Q2.

4. Charge Invariance

The electric charge of a system does not change with velocity. This means that charge is invariant under relativistic transformations, unlike mass and energy.

5. Interaction Between Charges

Like charges repel each other, while unlike charges attract. This fundamental interaction is described by Coulomb's law, which states that the force (F) between two charges (Q1 and Q2) separated by a distance (r) is given by:

F = k⋅∣Q1⋅Q2/r^2

where k is Coulomb's constant (k ≈ 8.99 × 10^9 Nm^2/C^2).

Additional Concepts

1. Electric Field

An electric charge produces an electric field around it. The electric field (E) at a point is the force (F) experienced by a unit positive charge placed at that point:

E=F​/Q

2. Conductors and Insulators

Conductors allow free movement of electric charge through them, while insulators do not. Metals are good conductors, whereas materials like rubber and glass are good insulators.

3. Coulomb's Law in Vector Form

The vector form of Coulomb's law provides both magnitude and direction of the force between two point charges:

F= k⋅Q1⋅Q2​/ r^2. ^r

where ^r is the unit vector in the direction of the line joining the two charges.

Conclusion:

Understanding the basic properties of electric charge is essential for mastering concepts in electromagnetism and is foundational for advanced studies in physics. These properties, including quantization, conservation, additivity, and interaction, form the basis for analyzing electric fields, forces, and various phenomena in both theoretical and applied physics. For students preparing for board exams, JEE, and IIT, a strong grasp of these concepts is crucial for success.

[synelven]

my take on an arcane university au (jinx and ekko are top of the class)

[lollytea]

Idk how long this chapter is gonna be but I've got 20k words of it not only written but revised and thrown in the ao3 draft. If that means anything

[yaoi-hate-machine]

i always pull out my notebook like Surely i don’t have anything to write abt. and then my pen is like Wheeeeeeeeee

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #1 - dacryphilia

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!alhaitham x reader (genshin).

length: 2.0k.

warnings: non/con, student + teacher, rough oral sex, wildly unbalanced power dynamics, academic stress, degradation, mild infantalization, and forced helplessness.

The worst part was – it really wasn’t that easy to make you cry.

Before enrolling in Alhaitham’s class, you could only remember it happening twice. Once in adolescence, when hearing that your adoptive guardian had lost his life during an encounter with a group of thieves, and later on, after you failed your first attempt at the Akademiya’s entrance exam with a score so low, it could be expressed in single digits. It wasn’t that you were the stoic type – no, you and Alhaitham had nothing in common, let alone your dispositions. You just preferred to express yourself in more productive ways. Something so irrational, so hysterical, didn’t come naturally to you, and it never had before. You just didn’t cry.

Hence why it was all the more frustrating to be seated in front of Alhaitham’s desk for the fifth time in as many classes, fighting back tears. Your latest paper, an analysis of mythological tropes shared between the ancient folklore of Sumeru’s desert and forest regions, sat in front of you, drowned in red ink and creased from careless handling. You were sure his notes were thoroughly scathing, but so much as thinking about trying to read over them left tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a fresh sob rising into your throat. It was humiliating. It was pathetic. Children cried over bad grades, not adults. Not you.

If Alhaitham noticed your distress, he kept his concerns to himself. His narrowed gaze remained centered loosely on the book in his right hand, the pointer finger of his left tapping idly against the tabletop. “I’m sure you understand why I can’t accept this,” he started, disinterest thick in his tone. You might’ve found some amount of comfort in his boredom, if it hadn’t been so degrading. “The Akademiya holds certain standards of quality for its students, and the work you’ve submitted is—” A measured beat, a shift to his inclination. “—less than. The orthodox course of action would be supervised revisions, but given the severity of the corrections needed, starting from scratch seems more advisable.”

You tried to control your breathing – five seconds in, five seconds out. The tactic was mildly effective until Alhaitham glanced up from his book and, rather jarringly, you processed he expected you to answer. “…I understand,” you managed, keeping the tremors in your voice down to a slight, nearly imperceptible shake. “But—”

Alhaitham cut in. “But?”

Your chest started to ache, and you realized you’d stopped breathing entirely. “It’s just—I do have other courses this semester, and the amount of time I’ve dedicated to your rewrites—It’s starting to affect my other classwork.” And your social life, and your psyche, and your physical health. You couldn’t remember you’d fallen asleep without a quill in your hand. “I’m sorry, but if there’s any way I could get any amount of credit for what I’ve already done, that would—”

“That would be letting personal circumstance circumvent academic merit.” The knot lodged in the base of your throat tightened. You balled your fists in your lap and counted to ten. “To give you any amount of credit, the work you’ve submitted would have to be worth any amount of credit. Unfortunately, it isn’t.” His gaze shifted to you. “Is that clear?”

You opened your mouth, but it was too late. The dam was busted, the pillar split, and despite your best efforts, the totality of your despair came crashing down around you. You tried to set your jaw, to shut your eyes, but the sobs escaped regardless – tiny and whimpered, fractured by unsteady breathing and your own failure to choke them back. The tears were almost worse, more pathetic, more childish – staining your cheeks and dripping down your chin, spotting the collar of your uniform. You pawed at your face with your sleeves, but that only drew more attention to your instability. If you’d had any less pride, you might’ve fled his office entirely, but the only thing worse than breaking down in front of your professor would’ve been breaking down in front of your peers. You couldn’t take their coddling attempts at kindness, their cooed assurances that Alhaitham really wasn’t that demanding, not after you knew what he was expecting. You couldn’t make yourself seem anymore hopeless than you already were.

Alhaitham, at least, had the decency to keep his mouth shut. He watched on in silence before sighing, setting his book down, and pushing himself to his feet.

He rounded the desk with no great sense of urgency. You were sobbing into your hands when he came to a stop next to your seat, and for one brief, horrifying moment, you thought he might actually attempt to comfort you. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, though, his voice remaining painfully neutral as he spoke. “You need to pass my class, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.” It was a required credit, and you’d missed the unenrollment period. Trying to back out now would be nearly, if not flatly, impossible. “I’d do—”

“Anything, I know. Save put the bare minimum amount of thought into your assignments, apparently.” You felt him reach down, raking his fingers through your hair. “And you mean that? Anything I’d ask of you?”

Had you been a little more lucid, a little less sleep deprived, you might’ve noticed the cloying note to his last question, the uncharacteristic warmth to his touch as his hand slipped from your scalp to your check, a thumb idly brushing away your tears. But, you were distraught beyond the point of reason, and the last of your energy had been spent on a paper he hadn’t deemed worth his time, and it was all you could do to nod into his hand.

Alhaitham, practical as always, wasted no time. “Get on your knees.”

…

Where there might’ve been shock, there was only dull dread. You’d heard about things like this before – tutors holding study materials over the heads of desperate lower-classmen, department head leveraging funding against the morals of insecure young scholars. Of course, you’d always assumed you would never fall into something so obviously depraved, and of course, you sniffled pathetically as you lowered yourself to the floor, collapsing onto your knees in front of Alhaitham. He let his hand drift to the back of your head, its weight settling against your scalp. You tried not to think about why he might want to hold onto you.

He took the initiative, mercifully. You were still biting back pitchy little cries as he shrugged his pants low on his hips, taking his cock in his free hand. Horrifyingly, he was already stiff. You couldn’t tell which had gotten him hard – the idea of the act itself, or the opportunity to exploit a student.

Alhaitham pumped his fist over his length, tightening his grip as he reached the flushed head. His eyes never left you. “Do you know what you’re doing, or will you need remedial courses in this subject, too?”

You pursed your lips. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

You weren’t looking forward to this, but having to keep talking to him suddenly seemed like the worse of two evils. You managed to swallow back the last of your tears as you leaned forward, awkwardly replacing his hand with your own. He carded his fingers through your hair as you took his tip past your lips, letting it sit on your tongue. The taste was earthy and bitter, with something more acidic playing just underneath. In another context, it might not have been entirely unpleasant, but right now, it only made you want to wretch.

Shutting your eyes, you soldiered on. Guiding him into the hollow of your cheek would’ve been easier, but Alhaitham was quick to correct you – jerking your head upright as soon as it started to lull to the side. He held you in place as he bucked his hips, the head of his cock bumping against the back of your throat as the girth of his shaft forced your jaw open. You gagged around him, but if Alhaitham cared, it would’ve been impossible to know. There was an airy grunt, then a click of his tongue – a teacher correcting their pupil’s latest mistake. “Breathe through your nose. If you pass out, we’ll only have to start over.”

The bastard. The heartless, sadistic bastard. Your hands shot to his legs as he thrust himself deeper into you; manually nodding your head in time with his languid strokes. You would’ve been better off going limp, letting him do what he needed to and ending this that much sooner, but something primal and contrarian in the darkest depths of your mind spurred you to try and keep up, to bob, to dig your nails into his thighs and stop your throat from seizing around him. The pressure was the worst part – all force, no relief, the gnawing awareness that you were losing air paired with the alien weight of something occupying a part of you that was meant to be vacant. The tears were back in an instant, leaking from the corners of your eyes, joining your spit where it was starting to spill out at the corners of your lips, and Alhaitham groaned, twitching against the inside of your throat.

“This doesn’t mean you won’t need regular tutoring sessions.” His grip tightened, blunt nails biting into your scalp. You whined in pain as he pressed your nose to his stomach, holding you there for a second, then another before jerking your back. “Home visits should prove to be the most effective. You’ll come to me, of course. The student accommodations are too public – it’ll distract you.”

You started to shake your head, but Alhaitham held you still, keeping you concentrated on his cock. By now, his pace was steady, his face flushed, his cock battering its shape into your throat. Tasting him wasn’t an option, anymore. It seemed to coat your tongue, drip down your throat, slather itself over every part of you it could infect. You cried out around his cock, and Alhaitham cursed, his hips stuttering against your mouth. “You’ll come to me, every day, and I’ll—fuck, I’ll—”

Suddenly, violently, he pushed you away and pulled out of your mouth. His hand made it to his cock in time to pump once, twice before your black-rimmed vision was spotted with white, before thick ropes of something hot and terrible were being painted over your face. It was all you could do to blink, to stare, to wonder why he was still looking at you with that awful, frigid intensity. You wished he would look away. You wished you’d never taken his fucking class at all.

You opened your mouth to say as much, but something thick dripped off of your upper lip and onto your tongue. Numbly, you let the bitter, corrosive taste wash over you, and then, you broke down.

What little pride you had left wasn’t worth salvaging, anymore. You sobbed and shook unabashedly, wailing like a child as his cum cooled on your skin. Alhaitham made a passing effort to hush you before kneeling to your height and taking you in his arms. With no strain whatsoever, he carried you back to his seat and fell into it, keeping you bundled against his chest. “You’ll come to me, every day, and I’ll make sure you’re not thinking about anything beyond you and I,” he finished. “That way, you’ll only have to remember what I tell you to.”

Alhaitham paused, sighed. “That is, if the General Mahamatra doesn’t decide to expel you from the Akademiya altogether. Trying to seduce an instructor is a very serious offense. You won’t need to worry about studying after word spreads.”

Rather than draw back, you melted into him, burying your face in his shoulder. For the first time that you could recall, Alhaitham let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer. His lips pressed into your temple – the imitation of a kiss. “But that’s not surprising, is it?”

If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought you felt him smile.

“You were always going to need someone more capable to take of you.”

[mar-why-am]

19/09/23

Studying for my physics paper one on Friday, been procrastinating... But I plan on getting back into it.

Good luck with your studies💪✨

[vunblr]

A Heart in Hiding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Allusions to Hydra's Trash Party, Medical Experimentation, Panic Attack.

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 13.k.

notes: This is a revised version of Unspoken. It's been a while since I wanted to edit this story, and fortunately, I found the time to do it during the holidays. I hope you enjoy it.

The halls of the Avengers Tower felt different lately, with a new energy. Y/n had been living there for a few months now, being the newest addition to the group, providing support both in the field and at the Tower itself. Her mutation was a rare one: healing. It had proven invaluable in SHIELD's eyes long before she joined the Avengers, who welcomed her gladly when Fury introduced her to the team.

Steve, ever the diplomat, had been the first to welcome her, offering his steady support with a warm smile and reassuring words. Natasha followed soon after, sharing subtle smirks and the occasional dry quip that made her feel like she belonged. Even Tony, in his typical way, wove her into his world of banter, bestowing her with nicknames almost the moment she walked through the door. The rest of the team? They warmed up quicker than she’d expected.

Except for Bucky.

It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, just... distant. She hadn’t taken it personally at first; he was Bucky Barnes, after all. The man known for his stoic glares, clipped words, and the heavy shadows of his past. Given everything he’d endured, who could blame him for keeping to himself?

In the beginning, their interactions were minimal, little more than practical exchanges during missions or brief moments in the common areas. A muttered “thanks” when she patched him up: a scrape on his nose here, a swollen cheekbone there. Silence charged with meaning when her hands worked carefully on his shoulder and chest, where the tissue around the metal arm often swelled or became irritated. She could feel his discomfort, both physical and emotional, though he never said a word. A shared half-smile over early morning coffee, when the world was still and sleeplessness bound them both. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it felt like the start of something.

Gradually, those fleeting moments began to take shape. He started lingering in the kitchen when she made tea, his quiet “Need help with that?” or “How was your day?” carried an unexpected softness. They began to talk, really talk. What started as cautious conversations grew into something deeper. Sometimes, he would seek her out, not because he needed anything, but simply to show her something: a stray white cat he’d spotted on a morning run, a book he thought she might like, or a new recipe he’d stumbled upon online.

For a while, they settled into an easy rhythm. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it felt meaningful, a fragile connection that made her think something real might bloom between them.

But suddenly, everything changed.

At first, it was small: responses shortened to brief nods, his gaze slipping away when she spoke. The conversations dwindled. The moments of shared closeness became few and far between. His presence grew colder, his body language tighter, as though he was retreating behind the walls she’d thought he was beginning to lower.

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t the type to let things fester, but with Bucky, every instinct she had seemed to falter. How did you confront someone who had mastered the art of retreating? Had she overstepped? Done something wrong? Every time she tried to bring it up -softly, carefully- he deflected with a grunt, a short answer, or a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

And every day, the distance between them widened.

-----

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint when things changed with her. At first, he appreciated how she treated him: no pity, no coddling, just simple, genuine conversations that made him feel, for once like a person, normal. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting to talk to someone besides Steve.

He welcomed it at first, the way her smile lingered a little longer when he mumbled a response, the warmth in her eyes during their shared moments. Their conversations became something he looked forward to, something he craved. But as the weeks passed, something else began to stir inside him. Something terrifying.

It wasn’t just gratitude for their growing friendship. No, this was deeper, more intense. Attraction. Wanting. And the more he felt it, the harder it became to face her.

Because every time he allowed himself to think about her, the guilt crashed over him like a wave he couldn’t outrun. She didn’t deserve the weight of his past or the darkness he carried. He had been the Winter Soldier for too long, a weapon of destruction in Hydra’s hands, leaving behind a long trail of pain and death. The faces of the people he’d hurt, and the trembling voices of those who had begged or screamed haunted him, etched into his mind like scars that would never fade.

And then there was the abuse, the kind he never spoke about. It wasn’t just physical; Hydra had taken everything from him: his freedom, his identity, his will. His body had been theirs to use, to break, to control. Late at night, he could still feel the ghost of their hands, the cold, clinical way they had stripped him of his humanity. The thought of it alone made him sick.

How could he even begin to think about her in that way? She was light and warmth, a reminder of all the good he no longer believed he deserved. And Bucky? He was a mess of scars, guilt, and trauma he hadn’t even begun to unpack.

So, he did what he always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm him: he shut them down. He stopped talking to her, stopped letting her get too close. It was easier to be cold and act indifferent than to deal with the storm of feelings inside him. It was better for her to think he didn’t care than to see how broken he really was.

-----

Things started to grow awkward -tense, even- during their group meetings before the missions. What once had been only indifference from Bucky turned into something sharper. It started with a sarcastic comment here or there, muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. She tried to brush it off at first, assuming he was just being moody as usual. But when it became a pattern, when his remarks grew more pointed, more dismissive, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He had started suggesting in front of everyone, that she didn’t have to participate in certain missions.

"Maybe sit this one out," Bucky had said during the last briefing, his tone flat, eyes avoiding hers as he leaned back in his chair. "We don't need anyone getting in the way."

Her eyes narrowed, the heat of anger rising in her chest. She wasn’t new to dangerous missions and wasn’t some kind of rookie that everyone had to look after. And Bucky knew that. They all did. She had a support role, yes, but she had been in the field countless times before, proving her worth more than once not only to them but also to SHIELD. To have him throw those words at her -especially in front of the team- was humiliating. Infuriating.

"You don’t get to decide that, Barnes," she shot back sharply. "I’ve done just fine without your input."

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. "Yeah, because healing a few cuts and bruises is the same as being in the thick of it."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You think that’s all I do? Patch people up? I’ve been in more firefights than you can count, Barnes, and I’m still standing."

"That’s not the point," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally looked at her, with a hard expression. "I’m just saying, you’re better off hanging back. Let the people used to the danger to handle it."

Her eyes flared, fists clenching at her sides as she stepped forward. "Excuse me?! Used to the… I’ll show you danger, you-"

Before she could finish, Steve quickly stepped in, raising a hand to calm the rising tension. “Hey, hey, let’s all take a breath here,” he said firmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on right now.”

A silent exchange passed between everyone present, but no one intervened. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

And this had become their new normal. Meetings had devolved into subtle jabs and snarky comebacks, with Bucky seemingly intent on pushing her buttons, while she fired back with increasingly sharp remarks. Each time he tried to brush her off or suggest she wasn’t needed, she fiercely stood her ground.

He couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just about keeping her at arm’s length, it was fear. Fear of her getting hurt in the field, and, more than that, fear of how much he cared about the possibility. Every time she suited up for a mission, a painful knot twisted in his gut, one he couldn’t untangle no matter how hard he tried.

So, as a defense mechanism -more like a stubborn teenager than the grown man he was- he resorted to belittling her, hoping it would be enough to keep her out of harm’s way.

-----

Their sleeping quarters were close. Too close, sometimes.

One night, she was torn from sleep by the sound of muffled screams. Bucky. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them, but tonight, they were louder, more desperate. She lay in bed for a long moment, listening to his struggle through the not-so-thin walls. She wanted to go back to sleep and tried to convince herself he’d eventually be fine. But the raw sound of his torment lingered in the mind, making it impossible for her to settle.

After an hour or so had passed, and although everything was silent now, she realized the sleep wasn’t going to come back. With a quiet sigh, she got up and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe some tea -and a piece of the achtzig schlag she baked that afternoon, whom was she kidding- would help, as small comfort to chase away the unease from being waked like that.

But when she reached her destiny, she stopped short. Bucky was already there.

He stood by the sink, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his broad back greeting her as she entered. His metal hand gripped the edge of the counter, while the other hung limply at his side with an empty glass loosely grabbed between his fingers. His head was bowed and his shoulders tense, as if the weight of the world rested there. She couldn’t tell if he’d noticed her presence, she could see his face reflected on the glass of the big window, but his gaze was fixed blankly on the sink, lost in whatever hell his nightmares had dragged him through.

For a moment, she hesitated. He barely spoke to her anymore, and when he did, he was a complete ass. But standing there, in the dim light of the kitchen, he didn’t look like his usual self. He looked... more than broken. Vulnerable. The heavy rise and fall of his chest, the slight tremor in his fingers, told her he hadn’t escaped his nightmare, not entirely.

“Bucky,” she called softly, reverting to his nickname, the one she hadn’t used in weeks. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. Just kept staring into the sink as though it might offer some kind of solace he desperately needed.

She stood there, debating if she should leave him alone, letting him find his own way out of whatever haunted him, or stay. Something in the way he stood there, utterly still, as if frozen in time, made her choose the second option. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her comfy cotton nightgown, and she stepped closer.

“Bucky,” she said again, a bit louder.

This time, his shoulders tensed, the only sign he’d heard her. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. His face was a mask of exhaustion, and shadows were carved deep under his eyes. There was a flash of something in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe frustration, but it faded quickly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bucky turned back to the sink, exhaling heavily as if it took effort to breathe. "You’re up late," he muttered hoarsely, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at her.

"So are you," she replied, keeping her tone light despite the tension in the air. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but something told her he wouldn’t answer that. Instead, she moved to the stove, setting a kettle on to boil.

He remained silent, not moving from his spot. The awkwardness lingered between them, but she kept herself busy, preparing tea as if this was an everyday occurrence. Bucky stood there silently, while she pretended not to notice the storm brewing inside him.

She turned back to him as the kettle let out a soft whistle. “Want some?” she asked, holding two cups with a gentle smile. “I picked up a strawberry blend the other day. It’s really good.” The gesture was casual, the same as it had been just a couple of months ago, before everything started to shift.

For a long moment, there was no response. He stood there, staring into the sink as if he hadn’t heard her. Then, to her surprise, he gave a slight nod, the motion so subtle it almost wasn’t there. His eyes, still shadowed by whatever nightmares lingered from his sleep, flicked toward her but didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

She nodded, poured the tea, and placed one mug on the counter in front of him before leaning against it, cupping her own mug in her hands.

“Strawberry’s a weird choice for tea, right?” she asked, trying to keep things light. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it kinda grows on you. Tony said it smelled like candy.”

He didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on the steaming cup in front of him, and his jaw was clenched tight. She smiled softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Steve liked it, too. He said it reminded him of-”

“Shut up.” His voice was low and sharp with frustration. “Just… shut up.” He whispered again.

The words hit her like a slap, and her smile faltered immediately. For a moment, she just stood there, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. “I’ll... leave you to it.”

She started to turn, deciding it was better to give him space, but before she could leave the kitchen, his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

She paused, mid-step, and slowly turned back. Bucky wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the cup of tea, his expression tight, conflicted.

“I... I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, a familiar gesture of discomfort, that this time it felt heavier. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You don’t deserve-”

He finally looked up, and his blue eyes were clouded with something raw. “I... had a nightmare,” he admitted, the words coming out slowly, as if they were too painful to say aloud. “One of the heavy ones.” His voice cracked on the last part, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, haunted.

She shifted slightly, watching the tension in his posture, on the way his fingers gripped the edge of the counter as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She hesitated, but the concern pushed her forward. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched instantly, the muscle twitching as his eyes flicked away from hers, focusing again on the cup of tea. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she thought he might snap at her again. But instead, there was only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that told her everything she needed to know.

The dream still clung to him. It wasn’t just a memory, it was something darker, something visceral. In the back of his mind, the flashback played like a twisted reel. He remembered the cold steel table beneath his back, the harsh, sterile lights overhead. The sensation of the reinforced restraints biting into his skin. Voices around him, detached and clinical, as faceless scientists in white coats discussed the "procedure." A sharp pain had torn through his body, worse than anything he had felt before, as they tested the limits of his tissue regeneration. They cut deeper with each slice, watching his flesh heal itself in real-time, timing the speed of recovery as though he was no more than a lab rat.

He could still hear the sound of the blade cutting through muscle and bone and the smell of the antiseptic mixing with the coppery tang of blood. No anesthesia, it wasn’t needed. Bucky’s grip tightened on the counter and she saw the way his whole body tensed, the flicker of torment in his eyes that he tried to hide behind his blank expression.

She took a small step forward. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly, offering him an out without pushing him further.

She hesitated, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhaustion that etched into every line of his face. He looked like a man fighting a battle he couldn’t win, worn down by nights that stretched too long and memories that wouldn’t fade. She bit her lip, debating, before taking another small step forward.

“I could help… if you want. With the nightmares.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, snapping his eyes to hers. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too far. The air between them grew heavier, thick with the weight of things left unsaid.

“I mean,” she added quickly, keeping her voice soft, “my powers... they don’t just work on physical injuries. I can soothe the mind too, if the person is willing. I could help you sleep.” Her words trailed off, unsure if this was what he wanted -or needed- to hear. She shifted slightly, glancing down before meeting his gaze again. “You look like you could use a break from it all, even if it’s just for a little while. You don’t have to keep carrying this alone.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at her. His posture was still tense, every muscle taut like he was bracing for an attack. She half-expected him to shut her down, to retreat behind that wall of silence and dismiss her with another biting comment. Instead, his expression softened ever so slightly, and the hardness in his eyes dimmed as he weighed her words. She saw the exhaustion behind the mask he always wore, the misery that had become his constant companion.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough and low when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he muttered. “Nothing’s worked before.”

Her heart clenched at his words, at the defeat in his tone. "We won’t know unless we try," she said softly, watching his reaction.Bucky’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “Fine.” The word was gruff, a reluctant concession more than agreement. He glanced at her from under his brow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. "Just... don’t expect too much."

With that, he turned and led her toward his quarters.

Once the door was shut, she sat on the end of his double bed. "Alright. Lay down and rest your head on my thighs."

Bucky eyed her warily, tightening his jaw. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, this kind of intimacy. After a long moment, though, the exhaustion and lingering unease from the nightmare tugged at him too strongly. With a resigned sigh, he climbed onto the bed and lay on his side, hesitating briefly before resting his head on her thighs.

“There,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the soft fabric of her clothes. “Don’t think this means I’m letting my guard down completely.”

Despite his gruff tone, she could feel the weight of his weariness. His body was tense, but the warmth of her legs seemed to be doing its work already.

She began running her fingers gently through his hair. "That’s exactly what I need you to do," she whispered. "Don’t fight me, Bucky. Relax and let me take care of you."

He inhaled deeply, her scent filling his senses, calming him. The tension in his shoulders began to ebb away, though he stubbornly clung to a sliver of resistance. "I don’t need to be taken care of," he grumbled, even as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Whatever you say, hun,” she teased softly.

Bucky let out a low grunt, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced soothing lines through his hair. The sensation sent calming waves through his body, unraveling his nerves one strand at a time. He didn’t have the energy to resist anymore, he was too drained from the nightmare, too tired of fighting his own mind.

"I’m not your hun..." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, despite himself. He buried his face deeper into her lap, inhaling her scent again. It was soothing, pulling him further from the chaos of his mind.

“Oh, shush,” she said, brushing the protest aside, still moving her fingers through his dark locks.

For once, Bucky complied. He fell silent, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat becoming the only sound in the room. The quiet, steady thump-thump echoed in his ears, an oddly comforting melody amidst the storm of his thoughts.

"Your heartbeat..." he murmured almost sleepy, "It’s kind of nice." The confession slipped out but for once, he didn’t regret it.

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its gentle motion. “Oh? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe because regular people can’t hear it without... closer contact.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips at her remark, but he didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he allowed himself to lean into her touch, the soft strokes through his scalp lulling him into a state of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. His hand drifted almost unconsciously to her thigh, tracing small circles over her skin.

She continued her gentle ministrations, pouring her power into the touch. Slowly, bit by bit, Bucky’s muscles softened, and the weight of his nightmares slipped away as her presence guided him somewhere safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel it. The calm. The peace. The quiet.

-----

After a while she sighed, exhausted from using her powers to push against the weight of his severe trauma. Now, she had to figure out how to leave without waking him. He was sleeping deeply, his mind finally at peace after months of restless nights. Yet, despite his slumber, he wasn’t entirely defenseless. His subconscious remained alert, picking up on the slightest changes around him.

As she carefully prepared to slip away, Bucky's eyes flickered open, revealing half-lidded blue irises clouded with drowsiness. Without a word, his hand reached out, as if instinctively sensing her intention to leave. His grip was light but firm, curling his fingers on her thigh with an unconscious possessiveness.

"Shhh," she whispered, wincing internally as she resumed running her fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him back to sleep. She knew it was a lost battle; any attempt to leave would only rouse him further. Resigned, she reached for some unused pillows and cushions nearby, pulling them close as she reclined, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep while sitting up.

The rhythmic strokes of her fingers seemed to draw him back from the edge of wakefulness. Bucky nuzzled into her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he settled back into a deep slumber. As she adjusted her position, using the pillows to support her back, he instinctively shifted with her, seeking out the warmth of her body. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer as he mumbled incoherently in his sleep.

At some point, she fell asleep too, physically drained from using all her energy to ease his haunted mind. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to slumber was the weight of his head still resting on her lap, her hand gently tangled in his soft hair.

-----

Bucky stirred slightly in his sleep, brushing his nose against the soft fabric of her cotton nightie. Her scent filled the air around him, a mix of sweetness and warmth that seeped into his senses, pulling him deeper into the haze of his dreams. A low groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating through her thigh, dangerously close to her mound. His hand clenched reflexively, fingers digging into her leg without conscious thought.

In his dream state, his mind began to wander, unraveling the careful control he kept during his waking hours. Images of her flooded his thoughts, her curves, her laugh, the sense of safety she gave him. But beneath those tender, innocent thoughts stirred something he tried so hard to suppress: raw longing.

His breathing quickened as his subconscious registered the intimate contact, even as he remained lost in the depths of sleep. His hips twitched involuntarily, pressing his growing arousal into the mattress, seeking relief.

In his dream, she was there, waiting for him, glowing and inviting. He felt her softness under his hands, the curve of her waist beneath his fingers, and the way she melted into his touch. His lips brushed against her inner thighs, teasing, tasting, drawing out soft moans of pleasure that only made the fire inside him burn hotter.

In the real world, his hips twitched involuntarily, pressing against the mattress as his body sought relief. His chest heaved, and low, almost inaudible whimpers escaped his parted lips. Lost in the dream, he chased an elusive release, each shift and grind against the sheets a reflection of the ache deep within him.

And then, it all came crashing down.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. Reality quickly surged forward, sweeping away the fantasy. The warm weight of her hand still rested gently on his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She was peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, blissfully unaware of the storm he had just woken from.

His body went rigid and a flush crept up his neck, as the remnants of his dream lingered in his mind. Worse than that, was the sticky mess staining his underwear.

Fuck.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he extracted himself from her lap, careful not to disturb her. He rolled off the bed and landed heavily on his feet, moving stiffly with mortification. His hand instinctively moved to his groin, tugging his underwear slightly to reveal the copious evidence of his release. A low curse escaped his lips as he took in the sight, and shame heated his face. Without a second glance, he padded to the bathroom, humiliated.

Minutes later she stirred, feeling her legs lighter, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The memories of offering to soothe Bucky’s mind with her powers came back to her, along with the feeling of being trapped, unable to leave without waking him. But now, as she blinked and stretched, she realized he was gone. Her back and neck throbbed from the awkward position she had slept in, so she slowly got up from his bed and took the opportunity to return to her own room, crawling into her bed to continue sleeping, unaware of the events that transpired before she awoke.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained in the bathroom, leaning heavily against the sink. A storm of guilt, shame, and relief swirled inside him. Guilt for what had happened so close to her, shame at the explicit nature of his dream, and relief that he’d managed to sneak away without waking her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of the fantasy that had caught him off guard so thoroughly.

------

They didn’t cross paths during the day, except late in the afternoon when Tony handed Natasha some VIP invitations to a charity event for her and Y/n. Bucky was sitting across the room on the couch, but his enhanced hearing made it impossible not to overhear. Natasha has found it amusing to join in a bachelorette’s auction at the event and, naturally, she dragged the healer into it to help raise more funds.

When she entered the room, Bucky couldn’t help but steal glances at her and the vivid memories of his dream came rushing back. The black dress with a low neckline -and were those mesh stockings?- did nothing to dissipate the discomfort.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, manspreading on the couch looking unsurprisingly grumpy. She walked over and plopped down next to him, leaning in slightly. “Hey,” she greeted chirpily. “I didn’t see you all day. Did you rest after our session? Any nightmares?”

Bucky’s frown deepened as he took in her revealing dress, and his gaze lingered for a second too long before flicking up to meet hers. “Well I actually had a nightmare.” he barked bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he turned away again.

“Oh Bucky, really?” she asked, absentmindedly resting her hand on his arm. “You seemed fine when I fell asleep... I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Fine? No, I wasn’t fucking fine,” he snapped. His eyes drifted down to the swell of her breasts, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, reigniting the memories of his dream and sending another wave of heat through his body. He scoffed, turning his head to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Maybe you thought you did something, but you didn't. It was a waste of my time,” he muttered under his breath.

She recoiled, and her heart stung at his words. She’d felt the connection, sensed the calm that had washed over him during their session. She truly believed she’d helped. His harsh tone caught her off guard, and the hurt was unmistakable in her voice as she stood up abruptly.

“Oh, I see. We’re on square one again, where you treat me like shit. You know what Bucky? I’m tired of this. I don't know what your problem is, but I don't care anymore. Go fuck yourself.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed toward the private quarters area, leaving him there, sitting in stunned silence.

------

The time to go to the charity event had arrived, and she and Natasha were all dressed up with the final touches, ready to be auctioned off in the playful bachelor and bachelorette game.

Tony, ever the social butterfly, was already acting as the host, ironing out the final details of the evening’s festivities. Steve, the ever-reliable friend and gentleman, had offered to tag along to ensure everything stayed civil and vanilla. Sam showed up at the last minute, his trademark grin plastered on his face. He winked at her and Natasha, flirting playfully and joking about bidding himself.

She smiled at his lightheartedness, but her attention kept drifting toward the couch across the room where Bucky sat, even if he had started to act like an asshole again. He’d been silent since they exchanged those heated words, barely looking up from his spot. His broad frame seemed more hunched than usual as if the weight of the night ahead was pressing down on him.

Sam, ever the instigator, swaggered over to where Bucky sat, giving him a playful nudge. “What’s up, Tinman? You look like you're about to blow a fuse,” he teased, not missing the tightness in Bucky’s jaw.

He didn’t respond immediately, flicking his eyes briefly toward Sam before dropping back down. He was clearly in no mood for jokes, but Sam wasn’t one to back down that easily.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know about this,” he added, grinning. “I left you, like, four texts reminding you about the event. Figured you might want to leave the grumpy soldier routine behind for one night.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah, I saw them,” he muttered under his breath. The truth was, the event had been gnawing at him all day. Seeing her walking in earlier, dressed to the nines, had stirred something deep and unsettling in him. Her sleek black dress with that low neckline, and those mesh stockings… he had barely been able to look at her without feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

But it wasn’t just the sight of her that was bothering him. Something darker was creeping up from the edges of his memory, something happened a long time ago.

The room around him faded as a distant echo of laughter, sharp and malicious, filled his ears. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the memories flooded back with unwanted details. He saw himself, chained and silent, paraded like an animal in front of an audience of Hydra’s elite. The “auction,” as they had called it, was a twisted form of entertainment where the highest bidder won him for the night. They'd done whatever they wanted to him. Their hands were rough and unforgiving, their words venomous. He’d been stripped of everything, even the ability to fight back. His mind replayed the worst moments, the feeling of hands on him, unwanted touches, and the physical pain when they decided to test his limits. Bucky remembered the smirks on their faces as they violated him in every way they saw fit, knowing he was powerless to retaliate. His body might heal, but his mind was left in tatters every time. He could still hear their voices, cruel and mocking, as they reminded him how easy it was to break him down, to own him.

Suddenly, he was back on the couch, his hands clenched into tight fists as his breathing quickened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. The memory of his dream from the night before twisted with these recollections, blurring the line between the past and present. Bucky had felt trapped then, just like he felt trapped now. And the thought of her being up there, in front of all those people, being "bought" for the night just for fun triggered him.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still. It was irrational, he knew that. But the line between the past and the present blurred too easily for him sometimes, and the fear -no, the shame- of what he had endured at Hydra’s hands refused to let him breathe freely.

Sam smirked, unfazed by Bucky’s short response. “Don’t sweat it, man. You can just sit back and watch me win a date with one of these fine ladies tonight. I’m feeling lucky.” He flashed an exaggerated wink at the women, earning a raised eyebrow from Nat in return.

Tony clapped his hands, signaling that it was time to start heading out. As everyone began moving, Bucky remained glued to his spot on the couch.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Bucky’s head, Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he tried to coax his friend into joining them at the event. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly seeing the tension but refusing to let Bucky sit it out. “What, you’re scared you can’t handle a little charity event?” he taunted, his tone light but with just enough edge to poke at Bucky’s pride. “Steve’s already going, and you know how much he loves playing the perfect gentleman. You really gonna let him be the only one representing the ‘old-timer squad’?” He smirked, knowing this tactic might work. “Thought you were tougher than that.”

Bucky huffed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to get over this shit, Sam won’t leave him alone, and… fuck, he had to man up.  “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice was barely audible but enough for Sam to catch the reluctant agreement. “But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

-----

The limo was packed, the air inside was thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. She was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped space.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to them. “He’s right, though,” Steve said warmly. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

She blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Stevie. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Bucky in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, man?” Sam teased again, noticing his tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky clenched his jaw harder and flexed his metal fingers, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered in warning. See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially her- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, flicking her gaze toward Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant and cold like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

The thought dug deeper than she expected, feeling a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it nagged her. She hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip before leaning in slightly. Her voice came out edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before quickly turning into something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was going on in his head, and the fact that she thought all this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath “Just drop it, okay?” he answered gruffly.

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway. “Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business anyway.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve as if wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, his lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and her, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

-----

Finally, the limo of awkwardness reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

She practically bolted out of the car, and Natasha followed her with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the tense ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow to her, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets with stiff shoulders as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the crowd's edge, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d already made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, with his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour, and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

Nat looked at them, unimpressed. “I don’t know why the guys didn’t want to join, they would’ve wiped all wallets with only a wink”.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

She had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, and his gaze was locked onto the stage but somehow distant, as if he wasn’t there. His seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there with his arms crossed, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melted together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and his body started trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow as his steps quickened. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, but his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, and the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, focusing on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She speeded up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct or something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually, she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to glimpse him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustrated and worried as she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when a movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, with his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with the mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, with loose strands clinging to his forehead and others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes were fixed on the ground, and his breaths kept coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Her heart clenched. He was hiding not just physically, but emotionally too. He retreated into that dark place, one she had seen before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, with a gentle tone, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare gripping at him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, he did nothing. He remained hunched, with his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, and his gaze shifted ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s… I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, locking her eyes on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat worked against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his fingers twitched in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the minutes dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, tightening her grip on his hand, as a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw at her words. After all the terrible things he'd done, he didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what mortified him more was how he’d been with her recently, pushing her away, when he knew his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten with a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the comfort her presence brought him. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing slowly as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His trembling fingers, rough and scarred, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, and his chest started to rise and fall in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, and his blue eyes met hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh,  as his body shifted again, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, and his body sank into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to…?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. Then, she let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, while her touch never faltered. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

-----

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, pausing her fingers in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the building cast long shadows across the topiary.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move immediately. His head still rested on her lap, as if he could will the world away for just a little longer. But eventually, with a low sigh, he pushed himself up, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah. We can’t… be seen like this,” he muttered, gazing at the mud-streaked ruins of his suit.

She glanced down at herself and grimaced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she teased softly, brushing at her dress, though the stubborn stains refused to budge.

The topiary garden felt worlds away from the glittering ballroom, but their predicament remained clear: how were they going to make it back to the compound without being seen? They exchanged a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, just as the crunch of footsteps on gravel reached their ears.

They barely had time to react before Sam appeared from behind a meticulously trimmed hedge, coming to an abrupt stop in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and rumpled clothes. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby wall as his smirk grew wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed in frustration, rerunning a hand through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sam, got any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

She felt her face heating as she shot a horrified look at Sam. “No, that’s not-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” he said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tinman. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, mortified. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling, hm?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands while Bucky shot him a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

------

The night was still and the distant hum of the city was barely audible as Bucky and her walked along the deserted road. The event had been settled on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

He walked a few steps ahead, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, and the guilt crept into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. Her skimpy dress had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, with a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket, she took in his scent, subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, and she liked it.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

He kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, finally, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly.

Her steps faltered slightly, tightening her fingers around the sleeves. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve sent her after you, instead of following you myself.”

Bucky frowned. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, as her insecurities pushed her to finally explain. “Well, because of what Sam said on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, and her voice wavered slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, with barely contained frustration. “Why the hell would you think that?”

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand up and down through the strap of her dress, exhaling in frustration. “And then, when Sam made that joke, it just… fit, you know? it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s tensed his jaw, and a storm brewed behind his eyes as he stepped closer to her. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, full of rawness as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding hard as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.”

Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began in a softer and more vulnerable tone "if I told you I like you too?"

Bucky froze. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, and something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, dropping his gaze to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, and you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is only take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head.  “I’m a grown woman, Bucky, and I’m very capable of making my own decisions. I’ve decided... I want to give us a try if you are ok with that.”

His expression shifted as he stared at her, “I don’t know how to do this.” he whispered. His heart was pounding, torn between fear and longing. He hesitantly hovered his dirty hand between them, and when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise… I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, so low his voice was barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy, Buck,” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m asking for you.”

Something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay, let’s…” he murmured. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, locking his eyes on hers. Her hand was still in his, warm, grounding and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His vibranium hand cupped the side of her face, brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, his forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence was more comforting than any words could be. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, and she leaned against his caress.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking, doll. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melting away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, letting out a low chuckle, and his voice was a deep rumble she felt against her chest. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, with mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.” She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark and hid her face on his nape.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed faintly, his gaze was fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, tightening her arms slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent momentarily, letting her words sink into his mind. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, brushing her lips against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

His throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

The path ahead was uncertain, messy, and strewn with shadows, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt that maybe he didn’t have to walk it alone.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[bedupolker]

OPENING COMMISSION SLOTS

Opening 10 Commission slots for traditional (ink or watercolor/gouache) art! If you are looking for an original physical piece and have specific size requirements let me know, otherwise they will be on small 5.5x8.5 sheets. Please note I will not be able to do major revisions due to the medium. Shipping of original piece is optional but cost of shipping NOT included in these listed prices. Payment via paypal or venmo accepted (I will take a deposit of 1/2 of the original price once you approve the sketch, and 1/2 upon completion, full upfront is also fine.)

Backgrounds are ok but will increase price (likely ~$150-175 depending on complexity) multiple characters are ok but will be charged each as individual pieces.

Check out some past finished commissions here!

Please DM me for questions or more info or contact me at EBYRLEY6698@GMAIL.COM

[utopeian]

be sweet to me

SUMMARY Bob notices that you're painfully shy to initiate physical touch and takes matters into his own hands. Literally.

PAIRING bob reynolds x gender neutral!reader

GENRE fluff, slight humor, established relationship

WORD COUNT 1.7k

WARNINGS a lot of oh's, reader is a working civilian, bob & reader's relationship is fairly fresh, no Y/N mention

AUTHOR’S NOTE requested! i listened to japanese breakfast's be sweet on loop while writing this, enjoy!

The city’s usual hustle and bustle has died down a little considering it was the middle of the afternoon, the sky was bluer and brighter and clearer than usual, soft music murmuring from the cafe’s hidden speakers. Or maybe it was because you were with Bob that everything happened to feel a little lighter.

You’re in disbelief that a man has made you think and feel this way.

You were in the middle of a discussion with Bob about the new book he picked up when your phone vibrates on the table. You shut your eyelids just to roll your eyes under them and redirected your focus back on Bob.

However, he also got distracted and pointed out, “aren’t you going to check that?”

You are, but you knew once you confirmed it was a message from your job, you’d have to burst the comfortable bubble you were sharing with your boyfriend. The title still felt incredibly new, in the awkward, squeaky clean way. In the way that makes you tiptoe around it to make sure the dirt from your shoes don’t soil the shiny ground.

“I— yeah, I probably should.” You sigh, getting the inevitable over and done with.

You see that the notification was, in fact, from your co-worker. Something about needing you to come in at the last minute, revoking your day-off privilege with a promise of giving it back some other time instead. Yeah right.

You grumble to yourself— or so you thought, not used to having a partner with heightened hearing— before putting your phone face down with a little more force than necessary, “I can’t believe I thought I could ever get a day away from work.”

(Bob doesn’t know if it’s acceptable to admit that he finds your annoyance attractive.)

It’s not that you found it difficult or that your co-workers gave you a hard time, but rather it gets tedious and boring at times. Sitting in front of a screen waiting for clients to get back to you regarding revisions and cramming them because it was their fault they didn’t email back right away didn’t sound so appealing right now. You didn’t really have the liberty of choice, though. So much for living in New York.

“Bob, I’m so sorry to end our date here, but I’m being summoned to work.” You sadly tell him. The hand you rest on top of your phone itches to reach over and hold his own that cradles his drink, but you manage to will it otherwise; it takes your whole being not to touch him. Too soon, you think to yourself, don’t scare him away.

He noticed the way your fingers shifted slightly towards his direction, eager to finally feel your hands intertwine. Keeping his eyes on your regretful expression instead, he waits for you.

Your hand never found his.

Bob slumps in his seat out of disappointment due to two things now. But living with a bunch of retired assassins forced into public duty has desensitized him from taking conversations cut short too personally.

He shakes his head to recover, a reassuring smile now resting on his lips. “Don’t apologize, I get it. The others also have times when they need to leave abruptly in the middle of conversations.” 

You’re sure he didn’t mean to, but now you just feel like more of an asshole. As you sluggishly start doublechecking your things, you ask him something out of curiosity. “Do you ever join them?”

He thinks about it a little, trying to see if there have been instances that he tags along because he was also summoned with them. “Hmm. No, not often. Too many risks involved.”

Half of your attention was towards fixing your bag but you manage to nod thoughtfully, listening as he vaguely recalls a time he actually joined The New Avengers to an important meeting, not wanting him to expound further if he wasn’t comfortable.

Before you had gotten together officially, when he knew he could trust you more than the level of friends, Bob had forced himself to open up a conversation with you about everything: his fucked up past, how he landed in Malaysia, and the time he had lost control of his strength and engulfed almost the entirety of the city in darkness.

You heard it all. And you decided to stay.

(If you put it that bluntly, it doesn’t exactly sound… romantic. There were obviously more nuances you considered before dating him.)

You lift your head up to see Bob already looking at you patiently and attentively, both his hands still on the paper to-go cup. You give him a little nod to indicate that you’re good to go if he is. He acknowledges it, standing first to be by your side before you get up. Cute.

Bob throws the empty cups in the garbage bin beside the receiving area; you hadn’t even noticed that he also grabbed your trash.

The barista by the counter says ‘come back soon!’ as the two of you exit, the little chimes above the glass door clinking to announce your departure from the cafe. The two of you walk a minor distance to stand outside by the glass display, not wanting to cover the doorway.

Your thumb slides under the handle of your bag, pretending to readjust it on your shoulder because you don’t know what to do with your hands yet, still painfully hesitant to reach for Bob’s. You peer up at him shyly. “Um, this is where we part ways, I suppose.”

He blinks at you owlishly, your concern only grows when he says a single syllable defeatedly.

“Oh…”

You blink back at him. Anyone intently watching your interaction from a distance might think you were communicating through morse code. “‘Oh’? What, ‘oh’?”

Bob fiddles with the sleeve of his soft sweater, eyes looking away from yours every few seconds. He can feel his face getting warmer and he’s sure you can physically see it.

“I, uh, wanted to walk you to work to… make sure you get there safely. I–If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Oh.

You’re stunned. You know it’s the bare minimum, but you can’t help but be surprised that anyone ever thinks to be a decent person nowadays. The rise of assholes, you suppose. “No, yeah. That’d be perfect, Bob. Thank you.”

He waves you off then stops his hand out right in front of you. Again, what is it with this man just being an annoyingly perfect gentleman? You felt the blood in your veins freeze, thinking he was going to ask for your hand, before he offered, “I can hold your bag.”

Your mistake for thinking he wanted to hold your hand, too! Whatever. You put your harmless bitterness aside to thank him again and give him your handbag, keychains rattling at the motion. Bob looks for the source of the noise, eyes lighting up once he sees the charms hanging on the side of your bag’s buckle.

You start walking towards the direction of your work building as he follows, cradling your purse cautiously in his arms to inspect your decorations and points one out. His finger taps on a sun-shaped charm inspired by the opacity of suncatchers.

“I like this one.”

Your eyes move from the street in front of you to what he was looking at.

…Oh.

“Me too, it’s my favorite,” you share, yet you’re reluctant to verbalize what you want to admit to him. Fuck it.

“I actually bought it ‘cause it reminded me of you.”

Your pace picks up nervously as your eyes immediately fleet anywhere except for the presence to your right; at a rat making its way down the subway stairs, strangers haphazardly crossing the road, a distant digital billboard blinking colorful images out.

Too frantic at the idea of Bob being weirded out at your confession, you don’t realize that he had finally shouldered your bag to reach out for your hand. The moment his palm slides into yours, your whole body is electrified. You love it.

You jolt to look over at him, a shy grin on his face, clearly pleased with your reaction. You realize that he had noticed your reservations and took matters into his own hands. Literally. You mirror his expression in double the glee.

From that moment to when you finally arrive in front your office, your hands never once detached from the other.

“This is where we part ways, I suppose.” You smile at him cheekily, parroting what you had told him earlier. 

Bob gives you your handbag; you almost forgot about it. His face hurts from smiling. Your moods are contagious. “For real this time, then.”

“Yeah…”

You really don’t want to go and Bob really doesn’t want to leave. But duty calls and bills and dates and gifts won’t pay for themselves. This time, you’re the one to take the step forward first, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

The way you bring him into the embrace is rigid at first but once you feel his body reciprocate, you melt together perfectly. You can’t believe you were nervous to hug Bob.

Pulling away seems like a foreign concept to you, so he does it for you, knowing your work desk awaits your arrival. He didn’t know he was capable of grinning this widely, laughing at your playful pouting.

He thinks you’re about to bid him a verbal farewell when you take another step closer, placing a delicate lip gloss-coated kiss on his cheek. He feels the same exact electricity you had felt minutes ago. You whisper when you pull away, gazing meekly into his affectionful eyes. “Thank you for today, Bob. I really enjoyed it, even if it was cut short.”

“Thank you too, I also had fun.”

You just look at each other, rocking your feet. After a moment of sweet silence, you finally point at your building with your thumb along with an exaggerated look of disgust playing on your features, sighing dramatically to get a laugh out of him. You think his laugh is cute.

Unwillingly, you turn your back on him to move forward, only to turn around a millisecond after. Bob’s still there, looking at you so lovestuck, hand awkwardly raising to wave. You giggle, finally taking your eyes off him and walking into reality.

Damn, you’re in deep.

[lovji]

Perfectionist

G!P Professor!Sophia x Fem!Reader

You just wanted your grade fixed, that’s it. But somehow, you ended up in your professor’s office after hours, stuck in a conversation that feels a little too personal, a little too intense… and way more complicated than it should be.

cw: age gap, degrading, praising (ironic ik), sophia is lowk manipulative, reader is a virgin, breeding, creampie, blowjob, deepthroat, pussy eating & rubbing, a bit of slapping, overstimulation, begging, & more. wc: 8.04k

note: this is lowk not proofread and its my first on this blog but i hope u guys enjoy LOL also sorry this is kinda filthy...

You sat in the cafeteria, your fingers absently tracing the creases of your most recent grade report for General Physics. The sounds of lunch hour buzzed around you — metal trays clattering, overlapping voices, bursts of laughter — but it all seemed to blur into background noise. Your focus remained locked on the single letter printed on the paper in front of you: B.

Not even a B+. A flat, bitter, almost mocking B.

This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

You were a top student. An academic perfectionist. You had practically made academic validation of your personality at this point — and General Physics was no exception. You had revised the basics, read ahead, memorized every formula, and anticipated every quiz. You contributed in class religiously, always offering answers when no one else dared to. You were, without exaggeration, doing everything by the book. And yet, you still ended up… average.

You clenched the grade report in your fist, crumpling it slowly as if it would erase what it said. The paper bent and creaked, echoing how you felt inside. Crushed, cornered, and humiliated.

Professor Sophia Laforteza had been a pain in your academic side from day one. Elegant and sharp-tongued, she made it her mission to crush egos in front of the class with her famously brutal grading rubric and impossible-to-please attitude. You still remembered the first time you asked her a question, a harmless inquiry about vector directions, and she responded with an eye-roll, a smirk, and a lecture that made the entire class laugh at your expense.

You never forgot that moment. And it felt like she hadn’t either. Since then, she watched you, not in a neutral, teacherly way, but with something colder, more scrutinizing. And now, despite your relentless efforts, she gave you the same grade she gave slackers who barely showed up.

You couldn't let anyone see this. Especially not your parents. They’d cut your allowance again. No more takeout nights. No more gym membership. Maybe even fewer meals altogether. 

You spotted your friends weaving through the sea of students, maneuvering carefully around crowded tables and swinging backpacks, trays of food balanced in their hands. Laughter trailed in each step they took, a feeling of familiarity you would never get sick of. Manon — your best friend, plopped down on the seat beside you, gently resting her food tray on the table, while Megan, Yoonchae, and Lara sat on the long bench adjacent to yours.

 As the girls sat down and before they could notice, you hurriedly stuffed the crumpled piece of paper back into your bag, jamming it in between your textbooks and other essentials, burying your humiliation with it. Of course, no one needs to know about this. They shouldn’t. You need to maintain your perfect composure. That’s how people always view you. Composed, responsible, and smart. Someone they were willing to count on. You couldn’t even imagine how disappointed and judgmental others would be if they found out you were failing such a class. Just thinking about it sent a shockwave of embarrassment jolting through your nerves.

“You okay?” Manon tilted her head. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“You look bamboozled,” Megan teased, a laugh escaping her lips and infecting the group. You forced a laugh too, brittle and hollow.

“Yea, yea! I don't know why, but I just feel a little tired today. Maybe it’s because I slept late last night. Couldn’t fall asleep for some reason.” Lie after lie. You weren’t tired. You didn’t sleep late. You in fact passed out right as you hit the bed at 8PM. Staying up late? What’s that?

“You sure? We literally asked you if you wanted to call last night and you replied at like 8PM saying you were literally dead from destroying your legs at the gym and cleaning your dorm all night…” Lara tilted her head in doubt. Whoops. Perhaps you’re not such a good liar.

“Yup,” Yoonchae added. “And you haven’t opened the group chat since.”

“Oh! Uh…” You fumbled for an excuse, eyes darting. “I was, um, watching that new Netflix show? The one that’s trending right now?” Another lie. You hadn’t opened Netflix in weeks.

“Didn’t know you were into shows,” Manon raised a brow.

“Anyways—” you blurted out, desperate to shift the topic. “Did you guys get your physics grades back?” You were curious as to how your other friends felt about their results. Maybe Professor Laforteza was really just a bitch who didn’t wanna give anyone a good grade. No way anyone else got a higher grade than you.

“Oh, yeah!” Megan beamed. “Even though I flunked that last quiz, I got a B- overall!”

“I got a B,” Yoonchae said with a shrug. “Not mad. I didn’t really care about that class.”

“I got an A- somehow,” Lara smirked. “No clue how. I’ve slept through, like, three lectures.”

“I was late to every single one,” Manon gasped. “Still got a B+. Wild.” She giggled. “How about you, Y/N?”

Your mouth went dry. What? You worked harder than all of them — hell, harder than most people — and they were getting similar or better grades for doing the bare minimum?

Your throat tightened. Your eyes stung.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You took a sharp breath, plastering on a strained smile. “I’d… prefer not to say.”

Lara rolled her eyes, laughing. “Come on, we all know you got an A+. You always do! You’re, like, terrifyingly smart.”

“Huh? Don’t even mention it,” you chuckled weakly, trying to wave it off, but your voice cracked — panic barely concealed.

You quickly turned to your phone, pretending to scroll through apps. You opened Instagram. Closed it. Opened your Notes app. Typed a random letter. Deleted it. You weren’t even pretending to text anymore — just trying to look busy enough to avoid conversation.

What the fuck is going on? What am I doing wrong?

The laughter continued, quieter now, but you still heard your name once or twice. Then: Daniela.

Manon scoffed. “Of course Daniela got an A+.”

Your eyes shot up from your phone. Your jaw clenched. Your academic rival. Always trying to one-up you. And now she’d won.

“She always does. Have you not seen how Prof. Laforteza looks at her?” Megan laughed. “They’re basically eye-fucking the whole lecture.”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

You looked around. Everyone else was frozen too, processing what Megan just said.

Megan’s grin faded. “Wait… you guys didn’t know?”

Yoonchae leaned forward, brows raised. “Know what?”

Megan hesitated, then lowered her voice. “You know… the thing. Between Prof. Laforteza and Daniela.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, curiosity prickling despite yourself.

Megan scanned the room nervously. “Don’t tell Daniela I said this. Seriously. But apparently, they’ve been… seeing each other.”

Lara gasped. “No fucking way.”

“That’s what she told me. They meet in her office. After hours.”

“Are you telling me they’re fucking?” Manon said bluntly.

“I—I don’t know!” Megan whisper-shouted. “That’s what people are saying. But it’s not just Daniela.”

Megan leaned in closer. You all followed, your heads almost touching over the middle of the table.

“She’s been rumored to be sleeping with other students too. Including—” she paused, locking eyes with you “—you.”

Silence fell.

“What?” You could barely get the word out. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your voice was sharp now. Angry. Betrayed. “I’m not like that. I’m not Dani. I work for my grades.”

“We know,” Yoonchae said quickly. “But, this is all starting to make perfect sense. This explains why Dani got away with turning in that data report late last month! She was literally, like, 2 weeks late into turning it in, and Prof. still accepted it! Which already sounds crazy enough, but catch this — she gave Dani full marks as well! Zero deductions for late submission.”

Lara nodded. “And honestly? She does stare at you a lot, Y/N. Like… a lot.”

“I don’t think you’re like that,” she added quickly. “But I get why people talk.”

You sat there, stunned. Humiliated. Angry. Confused. You hadn’t noticed Laforteza’s eyes on you. But now? The looks. The subtle smiles. The comments. Were they normal? Were they inappropriate? You didn’t know anymore.

You looked at your friends. At the laughter that had faded. At the rumors now etched into the air.

You needed time to think about this.

The clock on your desk glared back at you: 11:13 PM. The room was dim and suffocatingly quiet, lit only by the golden pool of light cast by your desk lamp. Its warmth barely touched you. Most of the glow clung to the wood of your desk, highlighting the chaos you'd created. Crumpled notes, thick textbooks flung open to unread pages, assignments with messy annotations, highlighters bleeding across margins like battle scars. Some pages barely hung onto the edge of the table, others had already fallen, scattered carelessly across the floor like discarded thoughts.

The bluish light from your laptop screen painted your skin with a sterile, ghostly hue. You blinked at it, eyes heavy, throat tight. The same physics lecture was open. Again.. This had to be the fifth time tonight. Or maybe the sixth. It didn’t matter. The words didn’t make sense anymore. Equations swam, graphs twisted, sentences lost their structure the moment you tried to make sense of them.

With a sharp exhale, you slammed the laptop shut. The sound echoed louder than expected in the still room. You leaned back in your chair, head thrown against the backrest, a guttural grunt escaping your throat half frustration, half exhaustion. Your hands rose to your face, covering your eyes, then slid up into your hair, gripping it with trembling fingers. You twisted at the roots, pulling, almost hoping the sting would snap you out of this spiral.

But it didn’t.

Instead, your mind pulled you deeper into it.

Megan’s voice rang in your head again, as clear as if she were sitting in the room with you. “She’s been rumored to be sleeping with other students too. Including—” she paused, locking eyes with you “—you.”

The grip on your hair tightened with each thought.

Your grades. Dani’s perfect score. The stares. The rumors.

The way Prof. Laforteza looks at you in class. Was there really something?

You push yourself away from your desk, another frustrated grunt spilling from your lips. You flopped down onto your bed, snagging your pillow and bringing it close to your chest. Your hands tremble a little. It wasn’t even the grade anymore. It was everything else that came with it. The pressure. The unfairness. The humiliation. The disappointment.

You weren’t the type of girl who slept her way to a better grade. You were diligent. Your parents raised you well. Everyone knew that. Or at least, you thought they did.

But now? You could feel your reputation cracking.

You nestled into the pillow, letting out a sharp breath. You bit your lip, trying to fight back the tears. You didn’t wanna cry. Your parents taught you not to. They told you to be strong.

You propped up on your bed, determined to fix this. Determined to fix yourself.  You were gonna do something about this.

You weren’t gonna let Prof. Laforteza get away with this.

You stood in front of Prof. Laforteza’s office door, heart thumping so loud you could feel and hear the vibrations in your chest. Your fingers again fiddled with the now crinkled grade report held in your hand. You need to be strong.

Inhaling bluntly, you hovered your fist over the door, hesitating for a moment.

Knock.

One beat. Two.

You heard the footsteps inside the room getting closer and closer to you. The handle turned.

And there she was. Professor Laforteza. She was suited in her usual dark blazer, the collar popped just slightly like always, with the top two buttons unbuttoned — which was not so usual, her expression completely blank. Unusually, her hair was let loose today. Perhaps because she didn’t have any formal lectures today.

“Y/N,” she said in a monotone voice. “Didn’t expect to see you today. Did I perhaps call you to my office?”

“No,” you answered firmly, stepping into her office as if it was your own. “I’m here to talk to you about something.”

“Hm,” she pouted in curiosity, nodding her head as she shut the door behind you with a quiet click.

Locked.

You felt your breath hitch silently. Why did she lock it?

Her office was surprisingly not well organized, which was quite surprising for someone like her. You could even call it messy. You felt a look of disgust creep up onto your face.

Did her and Dani fuck before you came here?

Does that explain the loose hair? The unbuttoned top? The messy desk? Fucking disgusting.

She walked back to her desk and sat back on her chair. “So, what are you here for?” She flashed a sweet smile at you. How cunning.

You dropped your grade report onto her desk, facing her. “I wanna talk about this.” You said as you crossed your arms.

She looks at the paper. Blink. Looks back at you. Blink. “Your grade?” She lets out a chuckle.

Why was she chuckling? She was starting to get on your nerves. Again.

“No,” you sounded disappointed. “The one you gave me.”

That made her raise an eyebrow. She stood up, picked up the grade report, squinted her eyes, staring closely at it. “You’re not satisfied with a B?”

“Why should I be?” You bit.

“You’re aware that I hold high standards?”

“I’m aware that you play favorites.” You snap back.

She looks straight up at you, putting the paper back onto the desk.

“I’m aware that Daniela passes everything late, yet she gets a perfect score, every single time.” You said. “Must be magic, right?”

She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t find the right words.

And then she laughed, very lightly. “What are you trying to say, Y/N? I suggest you speak to me very carefully.”

“I don’t care. Because I’m not here to beg, I’m here to give you an option.”

She leans in on the desk, crossing her arms. “Are you threatening me?” She snickered.

“If I was, would you report me?” You tilted your head at her, raising your eyebrows. “Oh wait, that would cause — other things to come out, wouldn’t it?” A cunning smile forms on your lips. This was going your way perfectly.

There it was. You saw it. A glimpse of dismay in her eyes.

She blinked. “You’re bluffing.” She said while scoffing.

You took a step closer. “Try me.” You threatened. “Fix the grade. Or the principal gets a little anonymous email.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, smirking. Something you paid close attention to. “You’re playing with fire, Y/N. Come meet me in my office at 7 PM after class hours. I’ll sort something out for you.”

You weren’t sure what you expected. Perhaps a detention notice? Or maybe even a slap to the face.

Certainly not that. Not her leaning into you like that. Not that devilish smirk. Not the way your name rolled off her tongue like it was a sin. 

You gulped nervously, almost breaking your composure. “Fine, seven.” You stared at her.

“I do hope you’re being serious about sorting this out.” You added, trying to regain your confidence, lifting your chin up.

Prof. Laforteza didn’t reply. She simply smiled and started organizing the papers on her desk. Dismissed. You didn’t give the satisfaction of giving her a second glance or another word as you walked out the door. But the second it shut behind you. You could feel it. There was a heat clinging to your neck, your ears, and your jaw. They way her eyes lingered for a second too long. 

You now knew what others were talking about.

It’s 7:05 PM. The hallways are dimly lit and empty. The fluorescent lights above buzz softly, flickering just enough to make the silence feel heavier. Outside Prof. Laforteza’s office, the door looms like a line you’re not sure you should cross. But you do.

Your hand wraps around the handle,cool to the touch. You twist it slowly. The door gives a faint creak.

She’s there. Exactly where you expected her to be.

Seated at her desk, eyes down, pen in hand, papers spread in front of her with clinical precision. She looks up, calm, collected, and her gaze finds yours like it always does: too directly. Too intimately. You can't tell if it’s meant to disarm you or expose you.

Her lipstick is still that rich, velvety maroon from earlier, but you can tell she just reapplied it. There’s a fresh sheen, a new sharpness at the edge of her cupid’s bow.

The lights in the room are low. No ceiling light, just the amber pool of her desk lamp, casting golden illuminations across her face. Everything else fades into the warm gloom: her bookshelves, the filing cabinets, the locked drawer you’ve always wondered about.

She doesn’t speak yet.

She just lifts the glass in her left hand, amber liquid swirling inside. Definitely not water. She holds your gaze over the rim as she takes a sip.

“Five minutes late,” she finally says, voice low, casual. But there’s an edge. A challenge. She sets the glass down.

You speak without thinking. “You said seven.”

You step in and shut the door behind you.

Click.

Silence, except for the faint ticking of the wall clock.

“Lock it.” She said again.

You didn’t wanna lock it, for obvious reasons. But you also didn’t wanna talk back, for an unknown reason.

The sound of the door locking was far too loud for your liking. It was almost deafening to your ears.

“Sit,” She ordered again.

The leather chair across from her desk was cold against your bare legs. You were still in your casual plaid skirt from earlier this day. You tried to hold her gaze. But you couldn’t. Something was off in the atmosphere of this room. The way she looked at you, it made something in your stomach coil.

“I believe you came here with demands?” she said softly, tracing the rim of her glass with her index finger.

You gulped. “I want the grade fixed. I know about you and Dani. It wouldn’t take much for a tip-off to land on the principal’s desk.” You threatened, trying to sound confident.

She chuckled softly, somehow alluring. “Ah. Blackmail? How… adolescent of you.” She mocked.

You felt threatened. “Don’t try to play smart. I’m serious.”

She stood, unhurried. Slowly took her time, step by step to walk from behind her desk towards you. Her gaze never left yours. 

“You’re serious, huh?” She mocked your statement, grinning as if it amused her. “Tell me, Y/N, do you actually think you’re the first person to come here and try to corner me?

You clenched your fist. You felt yourself starting to fall apart. You didn’t know what to say.

She got closer to you. She leaned in forward over the back of your chair, her plump lips ever so close to your ears. You didn’t flinch, but your breath certainly did hitch.

“Hm. You really think I'd risk everything for some naive little girl with a bruised ego over a B flat?” She whispered sensually. You could feel her warm breath on your ear.

Fuck. What was happening? You were failing.

She moved, circling around you, brushing a hand along your shoulder as she walked past.

At her filing cabinet, she plucked out a folder and opened it as she returned back to her desk. “Hm, your academic record,” she mused, with an impressed look on her face. “Every essay. Every grade. Every late night. You’re a perfectionist, honey, and it shows.”

You tense up at the nickname. You start to feel your chest tighten, and your breathing gets heavier. Why did you feel like this? Was she making you feel like this?

She looks back at you again, leaning against her desk with palms resting on the edge. “Do you know what I find most fascinating about perfectionists, Y/N?

You couldn’t give her a response.

“They break easily.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut.

She tilted her head. “So… what now? You threaten me. I call your bluff. You leak your little secret. I deny it. Daniela denies it. And then what?” She gasps mockingly. “You get dragged in too. For tampering, for false accusations, for harassment."

This wasn’t going as planned at all. You felt terrible. You felt stupid.

You didn’t think this through. 

Just as you thought you got to the worst part of the night.

Prof. Laforteza took a step forward. Slow and deliberate. “But you’re not really mad about the grade, are you?” Her voice dropped, a smirk formed on her face as she looked down on you. “You’re mad because you’re not my favorite.” She reached out to hold your chin, gently forcing you to look up at her.

She caressed the top of your chin.

You didn’t know how to feel. You felt like you were being hypnotized.

“Sweet, bright, diligent Y/N…” She continued to caress as gently as possible, giving you a pitiful pout. “You envy Daniela. But not because she’s top of the class.”

She leaned in on your ear, her breath hot and careful. “You want the attention I give her. You want it so badly it’s driving you to this.” She chuckled. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

You couldn’t find the words. There was nothing in your head. Yes, it definitely wasn’t a lie that you were extremely jealous of Dani, but not for this reason. Perhaps Professor Laforteza was right. You could feel her fingertips grazing on your chin and how her hot breath felt on the side of your ear. It felt so — hot.

She pulled away, lips curled into a cruel, evil smile. “Am I wrong?”

Again, you couldn’t find the words. You felt like you were being teased. You hated this feeling, yet, something about it felt somehow exciting.

“You envy her,” she murmured, “but not because of the grade. No. You envy her place.”

The professor circled behind you now, deliberately close, her breath feathering against your neck. “The way I look at her. The way she makes me laugh.” A pause. “You want that same heat.”

Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Stop.”

But Sophia wasn’t listening. She moved in front of you again, hands braced on either side of your body, you could feel the warmth of her palm on your shoulders. “Say it,” she said. “Say you want it too.”

The room was too quiet. Too heavy. Your heart beat like it was trying to escape your chest. 

“You’re so much more fun when you’re not pretending Y/N.” She leaned down, getting closer to your face each second. “Please, stop pretending.” Her nose was centimeters away from yours.

You bit your lip at the desperation in her voice. The way she talked to you. You knew she was manipulating you, but you played right into it. 

She placed her hand on the side of your neck, gripping lightly. The room felt so fucking heavy.

In the dim light, her lips softly pressed onto yours. You could feel the pressure of her kiss. You’ve barely tasted any of her, yet, you already felt intoxicated. You were frozen, unsure of what to do. You felt her lips relax. And then go in again, kissing you a bit harder this time. For the first time, still unsure, you kiss back. You can feel her hum into the kiss, growing more passionate.

She puts her hands on both sides of your waist, tugging you upwards to stand up. She lightly pushes you against the edge of her desk, knocking a few items here and there. Both of you are still holding the kiss, and each second it grows deeper and hotter. Unexpectedly, you felt a soft and wet organ dart at your lips, seeking entrance. You open your mouth, welcoming her warm tongue into your mouth. You could taste her drink. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it was something sweet. Damn, it tasted good. Everything felt so hot. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

You were making out with your professor.

Professor Laforteza.  

Sophia broke the kiss for a moment. “I knew you’d give in.” She chuckled under her breath.

Fuck. You felt so defeated. But something about being defeated by Prof. Laforteza felt so good. Something about the way she handled the situation — the way she handled you, was so fucking hot. You’ve never felt anything like this. Hell, the last time you experienced anything remotely close to anything like this was when your first and last boyfriend tried to kiss you in 10th grade. You cringe at the memory.

Now, you have your professor pinning you against her desk. She goes back in for the kiss, a lot more hungry this time. Her big hands are dancing around your waist, each caress lighting you on fire. Her hands find their way towards your ass under your skirt, groping at both of your cheeks, making you hitch up into her touch and slightly moan into the kiss. Today was definitely the day to not wear safety shorts. You could feel her smirk through the kiss. You felt so good under her touch.

The kiss doesn’t bore you. She pulls out and kisses you gently on the jaw, tracing kisses over it. You take this chance to recover your breath. You then feel her lips nib on your neck, a lick across, and then a nice suck on your sensitive skin. You could feel the bruising of the warmth and tightness of the sensitive spot on your neck. It hurt so good.  You were already aching for more. She continued to suck on your neck while she started to unbutton your blouse with her eyes closed.

Damn. You couldn’t help but wonder how many other girls she did this to or, maybe how many times she has been in this exact same situation with Daniela. A wave of jealousy and insecurity hits you. But it didn’t matter right now, not when Sophia was undressing you. “Mmm, I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget about this moment, baby.”

There it is again. A nickname. Not that you were complaining though. You loved it. 

Now unbuttoned, she pulled your blouse off of your body, still nestling herself on the side of your neck. Her lips on your neck felt so tingly. It felt so addicting. It felt like a massage. She pulled away to get a look at your topless body.

“Fuck, I knew it. You’re so gorgeous.” She said as she unclasped your bra smoothly, as if she’s done it a million times before.

She wastes no more time and shoves her face into your boobs, sniffing the scent of your naked body and inhaling as much she could of you. She fondles your boobs, rolling your hard nipples in between each finger. You let out a gasp. You’ve never felt this before. It felt like you wanted to gush. She plants her tongue on your nipple, softly flicking back and forth while she tugged and pinched at the other one. She wholly takes it into her mouth, gently sucking at it while moaning, sending vibrations to your sensitive nubs, making you squirm in pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” you squeaked.

“Mhm, you like that? I bet no one’s ever made you feel this way, huh?” She said cockily.

She kept sucking on each of your tits, alternating back to back, making sure to give each an equal amount of attention. You could feel the dampness in your panties already. Every single one of your moves felt so dangerous.

Her hands find their way back under your skirt, but this time in the region of your pussy. She could feel everything. The moment she touched your panties, her hand too became wet.

“Already so wet, baby? We’ve barely even started yet.” She murmured deeply.

“C’mon, get these off.” She said as she rolled your panties off of you. She stared at them for a second, throwing them away the next. “Pink. How cute.” She teased you, making you look down and blush in embarrassment.

“My baby is so cute, hm?” She said as she kneeled down to get a better view of your pussy.

You tug at the hem of your skirt, attempting to take it off. She holds your hands tightly, “Nuh-uh, skirt stays on.” Looking at you with seriousness.

She gets back to business and props one of your legs up on top of the chair with the other on staying on the floor. Your pussy was all spread out for her to see, drenched in your fluids, all because of her. She grazes at your lips and at ever so slightly at your clit, earning a sharp gasp from you. She licks softly at you, making sure to savor your taste. She keeps giving long and slow licks up and down your pussy, long enough to keep you waiting, but to also make you frustrated. You boldly grab her head and attempt to push her face into your pussy, but immediately pull back when she gives you a hard slap on the thigh. It stung, and it scared you.

“Hey, don’t fucking touch me unless I say so.” She looks up at you with daring and controlling eyes, her hands and fingers gripping so hard on your thigh, to the point that it hurts.

“I-I’m sorry…” You could only apologize softly.

Tired of playing around, she dove back into your pussy, this time fully indulging herself in it. She licked in every crevice of your lips, and slightly shoved her tongue inside of you from time to time. She used two fingers to spread your lips and see how wet you really were for her. “Hm, you’re such a pretty baby. I wish you could see how swollen and wet your pussy was for me. It’s so fucking hot baby.” She said as she licked and nibbled on your sensitive clit. She kept violating you, each flick getting you closer and closer.

“Oh, Oh my God, keep going please. Please.” You begged in a high pitched tone.

And now she suddenly pulls away. It felt cold down there suddenly, and you were confused. You whined at the loss of contact.

“Not yet, you need to earn it, mkay?” She said while standing up, unzipping her black slacks.

You saw the big bulge creeping up on her underwear. So fucking big. And it looks so delicious. Your hand reaches down to the bulge and gives it a little squeeze and rub, which Sophia lets out a groan to.

“Get on your knees, hun.” She pushes you down.

She pulls down her boxers and the rest of her clothes with them, revealing her hard veiny cock. Her cock was so hard, it looked like the veins in it were about to burst. It was standing up fully, ready to take anything. “You see my dick baby? That’s how hard I am for you.” She said as she wrapped your hair into her hand to form a ponytail. “Open your mouth for me.”

You obeyed, gaping your mouth with your tongue slightly out. She slightly pushes your head down, keeping her filthy gaze on you. The moment the tip of her cock feels the warmth of your tongue, she can’t help but bite her lip and groan at the sight. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, baby.”

You try to take her whole dick, but it’s hard, seemingly because of how thick and long her dick is. You try to adjust your jaw to it first before moving too much, but Sophia gets a little impatient. “C’mon, what’re you doing?” She says as she pulls on your hair and makes you look at her. You take this as a sign to start your motion, bouncing your mouth back and forth on her hard cock.

You squeeze your hot mouth around her length, attempting to pleasure her. She groans in approval of it. Your hair is still wrapped around her hand, she suddenly tightens the grip and starts pushing and controlling your head more, making you slightly gag every time the tip of her cock reaches the back of your throat.

With each stroke, she gets more aggressive, seeking for more. She gets faster, and starts to push harder and deeper. “Prove to me that you can do it for me baby.” She says in a low grunt, suddenly pushing your head down as far as she could. Even then, you still couldn’t take all of her

Now, tears started to sting your eyes. You couldn’t help it, especially when her thick cock was lodged inside your throat. It was so big, it almost felt stuck, as if it was permanent. Sophia made you stay in that position for a moment. You looked up at her with tears in your eyes, mouth full of cock and she looked back down at you, eyes full of greed and pity.

Suddenly, she winds back her hips and thrusts forwards, banging your throat. You let out a gag as she assaults the back of your throat. Her being the sick person she is, could only chuckle to that. She keeps doing the same motion, each stroke gets harder and faster. 

By now, she was aggressively fucking your throat, throwing her head back and moaning. Thrusting into your mouth without mercy. Tears spilled from your eyes down to your cheeks, and drool was bubbling from your mouth from each thrust she took. “Ugh fuck baby, your throat feels so good, ngh. Don’t worry, you feel so much better than Daniela. You’re being such a good girl right now. Taking my cock so fucking good. You’re so fucking good for me, hm? It’s as if that little mouth of yours was made for my cock.” She moaned out as she fucked your mouth into oblivion. With every word she threw at you, you could feel your pussy dampen and clench on nothing.

“I’m gonna cum soon, baby, need you to take it like a good girl okay? Swallow it for me.”

Sophia suddenly pulled and started stroking her cock pointing at you at a swift speed. “Open that mouth for me baby, stick out that hot tongue.” She grunted deeply.

You obeyed, sticking out your tongue for your professor and looking into her eyes like a little whore. Sophia kept jerking herself, and soon enough, she came. Her hot strings of cum landed on your tongue. There was so much, it just kept going and going. Without a warning, she put the palm of her hand on the back of your head and shoved her dick back into your throat, having you fully take it as she kept unloading her hot semen into the back of your throat. “Oh fuck, that’s my good girl.” 

You felt yourself getting even more wet at her words. She unlodged her dick off of your mouth, softly slapping your cheek with her cock as she left out a small but hot chuckle, admiring how drunk you were from her cock.

She bends down, almost to your level, but just enough to be still above you. “You're such a good girl for me. Good job baby, I’m so proud of you.” She gives you a gentle kiss as slowly helps you up from the floor.

“Now get on the desk. Don’t think you’re getting away without me fucking that pussy.” She said deeply as she lifted you on top of her desk. As she propped you up, she spread your legs, having you set your feet on top of the desk as well. Thank God you were flexible. She leaned down to get a closer look at your pussy again. “I could stare at this all day baby, so beautiful, hm. Your clit is so swollen and your pussy looks so tight.” She whispers deeply.

You could do nothing but whine in response. What were you even supposed to say to that?

Sophia looks at you, “Are you a virgin?” She asks.

You look down, nodding slightly, flustered, not sure of how to answer the question without looking like an absolute loser.

“I knew it.” She said as she took another lick at your clit. She was slowly getting addicted to the taste of you, but she wasn’t complaining. She went back up to level your face and started kissing you again, lips attacking yours. Her tongue felt so warm and gentle, but also so aggressive and dominant. How was that even possible? 

You indulged yourself in her lips and tongue as she made your mouth her plaything, sucking and nibbling on both your lips and tongue. She pulls back and slowly strokes her cock. She was fully rock hard again. Her dick obviously aching for some more.

She lines up the tip of her cock to the entrance of your pussy, but before she puts it in, she smothers it in your wetness, smearing the tip of her cock all over your pussy, most especially rubbing it fast on your clit. In response, you squirm and writhe under her. You felt so sensitive after all the teasing and from how horny you were.

She responds to your reaction, “You like that baby? You like it when I play with your pussy using my cock?” She says teasingly as she spreads your lips to get a good view of your pussy, rubbing her fat tip on your clit and all over your pussy. At that moment, you felt like you wanted her cock inside of you already. It felt raw and vulgar. It feels so good, you start trembling under pressure, you bite your lip so hard it almost starts bleeding. You moan loudly like you’re not in your college campus.

“Oh my God, yes! Fuck!” You squirm out as Sophia keeps playing with your clit. You can feel it. You don’t know what, but you start to feel something brew in your gut, and before you know it, you start cumming on her bare tip. Your legs spasm as they start to close in on themselves as you let out a terribly loud moan. Your eyes roll back and you arch your back from all the pleasure. You just had your first real orgasm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sophia says abruptly as she slaps your cheek. “Who told you you could cum?” She raises her voice at you.

You look at her with shock and fear in your eyes. You didn’t even know you were about to cum. It was your first time. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You whimpered like a poor puppy.

“I don’t care. For a virgin, you sure are a needy bitch.” She grunts as she spreads your legs fully and shoves her cock inside you.

You scream in pain and pleasure – mostly pain. After she rammed her dick inside you after one go. she stopped, letting you feel her cock just inside you. “Fuck, you really are so tight.” She chuckles, well excited for what she's about to experience.

You purse your lips and try not to cry. You tried to focus on the pleasure rather than the pain, and it was slowly working. You could still feel your orgasm wash out. Your pussy was too sensitive for this right now.

“Hm, can you feel me baby? You feel my big cock inside your pussy.” She asked teasingly in a high tone as she pouted at you.

You could only pout at her back and nod as you whimper.

“I’m gonna start moving a bit, okay my pretty girl?” She whispered softly as she slowly started to move her cock. You could feel it. You could feel everything. It felt so real. It felt so raw. 

“Oh fuck, you’re taking this dick so good. Holy fucking shit. So fucking tight f’me.” She moaned as she slowly moved in and out of you, watching her dick slowly disappear into your tight cave, swallowing her dick whole.

Soon eventually, the pain started to subside, and pleasure was all you could feel. She was all you could feel. Your professor. Sophia Laforteza.

She started to go at a faster, more average pace. “God, this pussy is so good. I can feel you tighten around me baby. You’re so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful.” She softly whispered as she fucked her cock into your tight cunt. 

You started to relax your body on the desk, letting Sophia take full control over you. She lifted your legs and pressed your knees down towards the sides of your chest, making sure she could fully immerse herself in you.

You could feel her big cock stretching you, hitting your g-spot, reaching you in places you didn’t even know existed. The more she thrusted into you, the more drunk and intoxicated you felt. It felt like all that mattered right now was her cock. 

She started to increase her pace. “Holy fuck! You like that, baby? Tell me how much you like it.” She grunted.

“Oh! Ngh, it feels so fucking good. I love your cock. ‘Can feel you fucking my pussy so good.” You whimpered loudly as your eyes hit the back of your head. Your words were almost incoherent. You didn’t even know you were capable of speaking like that.

Sophia was fucking your pussy like a monster. She held you by your hips, making sure you felt as full as ever. “That’s it baby, take that cock. What a good girl.” She praises.

She took this moment to admire the beautiful sight in front of her. One of her students, laid back onto her desk with their legs spread wide open, skirt lifted up high to reveal their pussy. Her cock splitting your pussy open as you moan like a bitch with each thrust of her rod. She bit down on her lower lip at the sight of your tits bouncing back and forth, occasionally tugging, twisting, and rubbing on your nipples from time to time.

The sound of her pelvis slapping your ass fills the room, with wet sticky sounds ricocheting across the walls. Your body writhed and convulsed beneath her, spasming when she reached with her finger to play with your clit.

“You gonna cum at the same time as me, okay pretty baby? I’m so close already. Let me see my pretty baby cum under my cock.” She says, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and she kept her pace and consistency in fucking your now sore pussy. She fiddled with your clit, switching from pinching to tease you and rubbing it to stimulate you.

She continued to rub your clit in circles and all sorts of different motions, spitting on your pussy from time to time. The bundle of nerves on your pussy felt like heaven. You could feel that same brewing in your guts again. “Oh, ‘think I’m gonna cum!” you squeaked out loud as Sophia kept fucking your tight little pussy.

“That’s my girl. Where do you want me to cum, baby? Want me to cum inside you, huh?” She shouted as she slapped you cheek which turned you on even more.

The thought of her cumming inside you brought you even closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened at the thought. You loved the way she talked to you as if you were some whore for her dick. “Mmm, yes! Please cum inside me! Mph!” You weren’t thinking. You were intoxicated by her cock, completely. You moan out loud as she keeps working on abusing your clit while she rams her fat cock in and out of your sore and tired pussy. 

“Oh God, take this cum. Take my sperm, gonna pump that fucking semen inside of you. Fuck!” Her hips convulse, you can feel her dick reach the deepest part of your pussy, while her cock pulses and releases her hot semen into your cervix. The warm cum floods your entire pussy, coating your walls with sperm.

As she unloads her cum inside of you, her fingers still rub on your sensitive clit, and you reach your peak shortly after she reaches hers. You both cum at the same time, your pussy tightening around her cock as you cum and your body spasms while your back arches again. “Oh my fucking God, yes! Fuck! So good…” You moan as you both reach your high.

As Sophia is still unloading into you, she doesn’t find the need to stop rubbing your clit, or stop thrusting into your pussy. Your body was too tired to do anything. You felt incredibly overstimulated. All you could do was whimper and whine while trying to push her off. But it didn’t work, Sophia is too strong for that.

“What? I thought you wanted to cum? Isn’t that right? You came without permission earlier right?” Sophia teased with an evil grin.

You looked up at her with tears forming in your eyes, attempting to push her off again. But she doesn’t budge. You could feel the pain brewing in your clit from the overstimulation and the soreness of the insides of your pussy. “Please, it hurts…” You squirm.

“Nuh-uh, come on baby, I know you can cum one more time for me. Come be a good girl for me. I know you can, baby.” She whispered gently as she pulled her cock out of your pussy and started rubbing her tip on your clit again. As she was doing so, her cum escaped your pussy, fluids overflowing and flooding out onto the desk. “Hm,” She sighed disappointedly. 

She used the tip of her cock to scoop her cum from your worn out pussy. She flicked your clit back and forth with her fat tip, smearing her cum all over your pussy, using it as lubrication. “You like that baby? That’s what you like, right? When I rub this cock all over you pretty little clit?”

You could only nod and whimper in agreement. It hurt so much, but you could feel it again. As she rubbed his cock real fast on your clit, you came, for the third time today, screaming again, almost out of breath. Your legs shook and closed on impulse, pushing Sophia out of the way. She did nothing but laugh at your actions.

“How cute.” She chuckled as she petted your head.

You were so exhausted. It felt like your whole body was worn out, even though it was Sophia doing all the work. You didn’t even feel like getting up anymore. Your body was just fully limp on her desk.

She took this time to admire you, how beautiful your body and face really were. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.”

No response. Too exhausted. Just breathing heavily, looking up at the ceiling.

She held you by your back and lifted you up to sit so you could face her. “Are you okay?” She asked while wiping the sweat off of your face. You couldn’t tell if she was being serious right now. She literally just destroyed your guts and now she's asking you if you’re okay?

“Uh, yeah.” You said in a shy manner, now that the sexual tension has gone, you felt even more embarrassed. 

“Good.” She whispered firmly. “I promise to never give you anything but an A+ after that. Only if you keep doing what I want you to do though.” She chuckled. You knew she had to keep you around after that.

You were still dazed, unsure of how to respond to anything. You certainly did enjoy your time in her office – a little too much maybe. But you weren’t sure if this was something you wanted to keep up. Nevertheless, you knew you had to obey her and listen to her now. She had something against you.

You shared a dirty little secret.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

�� You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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@wandalfnation

[vargrblood]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎page ──── one

약한영웅 characters as romance tropes ˳ ۫ 𓈅

includes class 1&2! 𔓕 gn!reader 𔓕 w.c 2k+

genres — romance, fluff, angst, comfort

click to continue reading!

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ yeon sieun

( academic rivals to lovers )

You were a top student— coming second to only Yeon Sieun. Regardless of how much you studied, prepared and revised— the rankings would never budge. No matter what quiz or competition you would take part in, Sieun would always seize the gold.

This was a start of a one-sided rivalry that not even Sieun was aware of. Poor boy was always confused as to why you glared at him in the hallways and why you would always turn sour everytime you saw him in the cafeteria.

Your anger and jealousy towards the pretty eyed boy soon turned into appreciation and awe after you realised how hard he studies and how many hours he pours into his notes. However, you still considered him your rival and desired to triumph over him.

You sighed dejected, looking at the equation in front of you. You were in the library after school. No matter how many times you tried, you never got the same answer as the answer booklet. You stared at your notebook, hoping that the answer would appear out of thin air or that the equation would solve itself.

“That’s not how you do it.” You turned towards the source of the voice, only to find yeon sieun, your sworn rival, standing behind your seat holding a physics workbook. You didn’t respond, only stared at him, tilting your head and prompting him to continue.

“Let me help you.” Sieun said as he pulled the chair next to you, you looked at him as he met your eyes, realising just how pretty his eyes are. Meeting his eyes flustered you, so you turned your head quickly towards the notebook as you slided it towards sieun and uttered a shy thankyou.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ahn suho

( amnesia )

One year and nine months. That’s how long Suho was unconscious for. You had imagined him waking up everyday, he would take your name and ask you if you missed him. You had created multiple scenarios of what you would do when he would wake up. But never in your wildest dreams had you expected him to wake up with amnesia— forgetting who you were.

The ache in your heart was equal to the relief that had come with Suho waking up. Suho was devastated and utterly remorseful for not remembering you or the memories he had shared with you. It’s not your fault. It’s okay. You had told him as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Suho had vowed to make sure he never forgot any of the new memories he made with you from now on.

“You know,” Suho starts as you push his wheelchair under the shade of the tree. “I am going to think of this as a blessing in disguise.”

You look at him as he continues. “I am going to think of this as an opportunity, because i get to fall in love with you twice.”

His soft smile made blood rush to your cheeks.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ oh beomseok

( lovers to enemies )

What started out as an innocent romance had turned into a frustrating relationship. You genuinely liked beomseok, more than you could accept out loud. You found him charming and endearing. You loved his smile and how his eyes would close every time he did so. You loved him.

You always wondered how people could support their partners regardless of their choices, and by finally getting into a relationship, you had found out how. You were ready to support beomseok in whatever he did, cheer him on and praise his accomplishments. You were ready to follow him to the end of the earth.

However, his actions had crossed the line, you could no longer look at him the same after what he had pulled. Your heart ached every time you looked at him, he had turned into a monster. You could no longer stay in a relationship with him.

“You are supposed to be on my side.” He spoke, full of anger and harshness, he felt betrayed— you, his own significant other, found his actions wrong.

“I can’t be on the side of someone who cuts off the brakes of his frien–” “He’s not my friend.” He cut you off.

That moment you realised, the boy you cherished oh so deeply, the boy who would sacrifice his well being for his own loved ones was long gone.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ jeon seokdae

( the boy next door )

You lived on rent in a one bedroom flat, the rent was cheap and the area was not bad— a clinic, a convenience store, a bank were all in the close proximity of the apartment complex. Not to mention the area was safe too. A cute guy moved next door and you couldn’t ask for more. He had long hair and a cute nose and everyday you wished you could catch more than just a glimpse of him.

Fate must’ve been in your favour, you were sharing the elevator with him! You tried to start small talk with him but his responses were small and curt. You had hoped to get to know him better but it didn’t work out. However, a few days later, he had knocked on your door asking for some salt. After a few days, it was sugar, then milk, then a cup of rice. This soon started a small friendship between you.

“Are you free this saturday?” Seokdae asked, not meeting your eyes and instead focusing on the potted plant in the hallway.

“Yeah, why?” You asked as you put in the passkey of your door, wondering if it was about the upcoming baseball match of your favourite team.

“So what about a dinner date? I’ll cook.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ youngyi

( coworkers to lovers )

You worked part-time at a boutique. A girl a year younger than you had joined, and as you were more experienced than her, you were tasked to teach her everything about the work. Youngyi was cheerful and worked hard and was kind of cute too, so you looked forward to working with her everyday.

Today was a specifically busy day, several clients had walked in and bought stuff, it was honestly kind of hectic. Youngyi had gotten in trouble for giving an attitude to a rude customer and was scolded by the owner for the same. You were in the staff lounge with her as she sobbed.

“It’s okay, Youngyi-ya. In this field of work it happens sometimes. Let me treat you to dinner today.” You said patting her back.

The idea of free dinner must’ve excited her because her tears had now stopped and she had excitedly said how she can’t wait for the boutique to close for the day.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve quit way back.” She said as her eyes shined.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ seo juntae

( tutor x tutee )

Juntae could not understand why you had insisted that he tutor you chemistry instead of the Yeon Sieun. It was simple. You were truly smitten by the cute boy and his cute mannerisms and you wanted to get to know him better and rizz him up.

Your lessons would’ve been helpful if you paid attention to what Juntae said instead of focusing on how he often spoke with a pout, how often he stuttered when your eyes were on him and how often he would ask you if you were paying attention or lost in your thoughts.

“Did you understand?” He asked, honestly you didn’t even listen to what he said, you were too focused on how he pouted when you asked him about this specific equation and how his eyes squinted as he thought and then when he began actually explaining- you were too focused on his cheeks.

“Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you.” You uttered shamelessly.

“What?” Juntae choked on his spit, ears getting redder every passing millisecond.

“You must be made of copper and tellurium because you are so damn CuTe.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ go hyuntak

( childhood friend to lovers )

You had known Go Hyuntak before you knew what friends were. Your moms were friends and neighbours, you were the same age, so it was only natural for you both to grow up together and be so close. You both were always there for each other.

Be it you getting rejected by the senior you confessed to or one of those days where Gotak thought of himself being lesser than others, you both were always there to comfort and support each other.

“You absolute fucking idiot.” You cursed out Gotak as you disinfected his wounds.

“You’re overreacting, I am totally fine.” He tries to soothe you with his words and smile but his smile soon turns into a pained expression when you spray disinfectant on him.

“Your definition of totally fine just encompasses being alive.” You bite.

He is about to respond smugly but he stops himself when he notices the tears brimming in your eyes. He envelopes you in a soft hug and pats you.

“I am sorry.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ park 'baku' humin

( persistent admirer x tired employee )

You were just a convenience store employee. Park Humin was a regular. He often bought snacks and always flirted with you. You would have reciprocated his attempts if it was not for his reputation as a delinquent in your area. You were not looking for any trouble.

His attempts to woo you with his sub-par pick up lines always failed, however you would be lying if you said you did not find them cute or endearing. One day he had barged in and bought nothing, he had told you that he had a big fight tomorrow and if he won, you would have to go on a date with him. Other customers were watching and you had hastily agreed to it.

He entered the store, bloodied and bruised, but he smiled so brightly.

“I won, so go on a date with me. You promised!”

You were concerned, surprised and flattered altogether. How could you not be? The first thing he did after winning the fight was rush to you. And he was still very badly hurt

When you nodded and smiled he went red.

“Now, come here, let me patch you up.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ geum seongje

( hate to love you )

Geum Seongje was a mystery to most. He was someone to be feared. He was rash and impulsive and did anything and everything he wanted without caring for the repercussions. He was a boy of doom, who would only bring destruction to those around him.

But he smiled so beautifully, how could you not fall for his face? He was a man of ideals and followed his ideals only. He only did what he found worth the chase or romantic. You happened to be both. So he won you over. But there was no denying that he was a piece of shit. You hated him and everything he stood for.

“I hate your ass so much.” You spoke out crossing your arms and leaning on the wall.

Seongje didn’t say anything as he pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette.

Because you both knew, you loved him more than you hated him.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ na baekjin

( right person, wrong time )

You had a crush on Na Baekjin. That was a fact. He was an enigma and people are always drawn to what they don’t know. And so were you. Not to mention, Na Baekjin was kind of cute. He had pretty, cat-like eyes and was good at studies.

You would often put some snacks and beverages on his desk when no one was around along with some notes of encouragement and reminders to take proper rest. You were doing pretty great as a secret admirer.

Baekjin knew it was you, but he pretended not to know and played along. He would always have a small smile every time he saw something from you on his desk.

You finally gathered courage to come out and confess it was you.

“I reciprocate your feelings, I do like you and appreciate everything you've done for me. But I can't date you, I have too many responsibilities on my shoulders right now.“

You feigned understanding and nodded along, you said it was okay, and that you were fine.

“I am truly sorry.” He bowed and looked in your eyes one last time before he left. You couldn't meet his eyes.

He left you to pick the broken pieces of your heart. You were not fine.

note Ꮺ

this is my first time writing 'x reader scenarios', so it might not be perfect but i worked hard on these! i hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! (˃ᴗ˂) ഒ please comment if you wish to be tagged on my future weak hero fics!

join my weak hero taglist here to be notified everytime i post a fic!!

[princessaffirms]

STOP WAITING FOR PROOF in the 3D — CREATE THE EVIDENCE for yourself first and use that to validate your affirmations. ⚡️✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

instead of waiting around for the 3D to give you confirmation that your affirmations have become reality, choose to GIVE YOURSELF THE PROOF NOW!

⚡️⋆ˊˎ- “but WHY should i? it isn’t ‘real’ yet.”

⤷ remember: the 3D is DELAYED. what you’re experiencing in your 3D now is a reflection of your previous affirmations and beliefs. waiting for the 3D to prove something only reinforces lack.

✨ NOTE: instant manifestation is REAL, and you don’t necessarily have to assume that the 3D is delayed! due to a common deeply-rooted belief that affirmations take time to materialize in the 4D + reflect in the 3D, some people find it easier to stick with this assumption and affirm through it! so you don’t HAVE to limit yourself to the 3D being delayed, do whatever works for you and what feels right for you!

⤷ affirm through any doubt until it feels weird to identify with anything else. repetition solidifies your affirmations as unshakeable TRUTH.

⤷ YOU are the source of your reality. it’s in the name! it’s YOUR reality. external circumstances have no power here.

⤷ your mind accepts what you feed it. when you saturate it with affirmations? great! that’s real now. your subconscious doesn’t question— it simply ABSORBS.

⚡️⋆ˊˎ- “but…HOW can i give myself proof that i have what i’m affirming for if i don’t see it in front of me in my 3D?”

⤷ start with IDENTITY-BASED AFFIRMATIONS. for example: “i’m someone who ALWAYS succeeds.” even if it doesn’t “feel true” yet, keep repeating it! your brain will form new neural pathways and adjust.

⤷ try SCRIPTING! write about your affirmations as if you already experienced them in DETAIL. get specific! for example: “i remember how amazing it felt when i got that acceptance! i literally got the email in my inbox and the words i read said congratulations! isn’t it wonderful?”

⤷ use REVISION as PROOF. revise and rewrite “bad” into good, and good into better by affirming it as such. persist in those affirmations.

⤷ VISUALIZE the moment where your affirmations are reflected back to you and they aren’t just words—they’re facts. FEEL and see that moment in as much detail as you can. THAT’S your evidence. it’s the only evidence you need.

⤷ EMBODY the version of you that already has it. whatever the highest form of “i made it” is to you? EMBODY THAT. carry yourself knowing you already have everything you affirm for effortlessly. identify with that timeline. choose that reality.

⤷ ANCHOR YOUR AFFIRMATIONS PHYSICALLY. create a vision board or wallpaper that reflects you already having what you affirm for. normalize that to your nervous system until it recognizes it as truth.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

TLDR; you don’t need external proof. you CREATE it. 🫶 much love always! <3

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

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[celesthysaturn]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕬𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

Yandere Apollo x Human Female darling

Note: kidnapping, manipulation (soft),Gaslighting, Yandere content

Revised and Rewritten

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In this scenario, Apollo's sweetheart was kidnapped and held in his golden temple, until one day she finally decided to try and escape. However, to her misfortune, it was a very bad time to try to escape through the paths of the Olympian forest infested with supernatural dangers and weather, causing her to get lost and injured by obstacles. Soon, after hours of recovering and walking on new paths, Darling was too weak and bruised to continue deciding to accept death or a miracle would happen, but she didn't know that Apollo had already followed her tracks and was patiently waiting for his darling to become completely vulnerable before springing into action, his greatest yandere side flashing through the gloomy atmosphere seconds before Darling lost consciousness.

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• He'd love to take care of his sweetheart, even more so in such a physically and mentally vulnerable state that forcing darling to depend totally on him to survive would make him a little excited. Not that he likes to see his beloved muse sighing in pain and discomfort, of course not, it hurts his heart. However, this moment will bring out his best yanderes tendencies.

• It's the perfect time to use his best skills, even though he is the god of many gifts. He will have the best chance to express his deep love and affection for his sweetheart because of her vulnerability, as she is too delirious and weak to resist his care, and also to show this naive human how foolish it is to try to depend on herself.

"God, you're such a delicate being, and yet you're daring, too daring not to recognize your fragility in the midst of danger out there, let me take care of you to show you where your safe haven really is."

• Being the god of medicine, he will use his divine knowledge of healing to treat wounds, calm fever and relieve uncomfortable pain in an extremely careful and attentive way, as if it were a moment of intimacy and genuine affection with his beloved, using his best home remedies with the help of his servant muses in the preparation and supervision of his darling so that she doesn't have to move for any unnecessary reason try to run away while they are busy.

• It is so pleasurable for him to massage your small (compared to his) and sore body, paying attention to its plump/slender parts, taking care of the swollen areas, using fragrant natural oils to rub hands from them in such a careful but intense way, being able to feel every part of the tender/thin and sensual skin of his darling that only he is worthy.

• Meanwhile, he's whispering sweet declarations of love, but with a more possessive and discreetly manipulative flavor.

"My little Sunflower, you are too pure and innocent to live in the arid world outside my temple of pure and vivacious gold, a graceful flower that is not worthy of having its beauty and purity worn away by perverse and savage places and beings that so It begs for attention. Therefore, your special soul must be watered and nourished by a great and enlightened star of the day like me..."

• There's no way Apollo can stop manipulating her lovingly, it's almost inevitable for him due to his emotional and sexual dependence on his darling, even more so after finally feeling blessed to find his true love, his soul mate after so many frustrated loves in the past. Such a beautiful, admired, talented and intelligent god was hopeless at having lasting and genuine happiness in love, and now that his darling's desire to escape has caused her to be swooned over in a forest ruled by mystical and unknown creatures that live in the world of the Olympian gods, his heart could no longer take another unhappy ending.

• To make matters worse, the possibility of another god finding her, with the intention of hurting her, kidnapping her or even raping her and taking her away from him and even stealing her most precious new being (which heaven forbid Zeus should know about Apollo's beloved) makes him overflow with fury, increasing his desire to take revenge for all the love tragedies he has suffered during his merciless life. He won't allow his beloved to escape from his unbalanced love in need of reciprocity.

"My effervescent heart, like the star king that reigns over the day, would not allow my beloved, my better half, to distance itself invisibly like the minute winds of the icy east, would you agree to savor my eternal suffering as I sit on my golden throne like gold pure of ivory after I achieved my happiness debt in the form of an insignificant human of divine purpose after experiencing such arduous destinies of love?"

• Gaslighting is inevitable with his subtly desperate speeches of reciprocal love and burning sexual desire for his untouchable lover, now that her physical and mental state will not allow her to reject him for the time being, and consequently it will be even more difficult after she gets better and Apollo's words and touches will echo in her mind as soon as she sees him being softer and more understanding, rather than rigid, with her, even though he is visibly upset by what she has done, causing feelings of guilt in his innocent human even though she has not regretted wanting to run away.

• With Apollo being obsessive, he will deeply admire his darling during the moment she is sound asleep after drinking the relaxing sweet tea they and their servants have made to completely calm her down, and this may last until the sky threatens to lighten, but not before he takes her temperature and feel your heartbeat with your warm hands .

• It is simply magnificent to appreciate the light of the silver moon of Olympus that symbolically honors its sister, the goddess of the moon, sensually highlighting the curves of her beloved's semi -kind body under the soft silk comforter that rests on the bed of the luxurious healer room of her sanctuary. Now that his heavenly lyre is as peaceful as the shy serene on the rise, he can finally rest mentally and give him a passionate kiss on the forehead before going to his cameras and sorting one of his slender servants to stay in the room to provide security there, and necessary servitude all night.

• During the stays of care made by the muses who live in the temple of the admired sun god, serving, flattering and aesthetically representing the divine beauty of art and music, there would be no shortage of genuine dedication to caring for and providing comfort to Apollo's darling, in search of praise and approval from their master. However, over time, the god's obsession spontaneously influences his muses and priestesses , making them want to investigate more about the pure and unique beauty of the young mortal/imortal.

•Finally, the desired human will have beautiful women discreetly idolizing her, which can be confusing for her.

• As Apollo's darling returns to her normal, healthier state, after treatments with herbs and nutritious food, Apollo will reinforce a brief sermon about the dangers of the world now and the wise decision to depend on him to be protected and loved in a passive and romantic way, as he believes that his emotionally charged words of despair in a paternal and loving way that day were enough to maintain his desire in his darling's fragile conscience.

• It is clear that he would become more vigilant in his honey, and to try to prevent her from having time to plan other escapes or more reasons to leave, he would make sure to keep her occupied with common hobbies in the temple, such as music, painting, writing, dancing and a little medicine so that Apollo can also watch his darling presenting her new skills in a private performance in the future. Apollo's muses will love being able to teach the golden god's much-desired darling.

"Now that you have learned your lesson, please, my beloved, submit to me, and you will never have a reason to leave my arms again."

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Finally this is my first writing for Yandere Greek mythology, which made me happy to finally finish it and post it there after so much waiting. Stay tuned for more yandere writings for Greek gods and feel free to make suggestions

𝕰𝖓𝖏𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 🧁

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[longlivejemily]

After Office Hours

Part 2 here

Pairing: Professor! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Reader goes to her favorite professor hoping to find ways to improve her grade. He has some unconventional extra credit opportunities in mind...

WC: 1.3k

Warning: Student/teacher relationship, slight sub/dom dynamics, semi public sex, thigh riding, use of y/n, use of “baby’ and “little girl” plz let me know if i’m missing any!

You’re running down the hallway of the law building at your university silently begging that your professor is still there. As you approach the door, he’s exiting, keys in hand. “Wait, Professor Reid! I’m here! Don’t go!” You call out to him closing the last yards of space between you. “Miss y/l/n you’re late, office hours are over.” “No Dr. Reid you don’t understand! My statistics professor wouldn’t let us leave until we finished the lesson on probability distributions! I told him I had office hours to get to and he didn’t care. Please Dr. Reid I really need to talk to you about my grade!” He puts his hands in his pockets and sighs while gears are turning in his head. “Fine, for you I’ll make an exception.” “Thank you thank you.” You try not to read too much into his comment as he opens the door, “after you.” You don’t notice that he locks the door after following you in. 

As he sits across from you at the desk, you pull out your physical midterm paper all marked up in red ink. “I thought I grasped this concept so well! I don’t understand how I got a C-.” “Y/N, you got a stressor and trigger backward. You failed to accurately explain the concept. The points you did get were from the passion in your writing. I appreciated the way you wrote, but I couldn’t give you a higher grade. I’m sorry.” 

“Professor, I have a 3.5 GPA and I can’t have that drop, especially not from my favorite class!” He clasps his hands under his chin with his elbows below him. “Miss y/l/n, it seems you have been struggling in this class for a while now. I see how hard you work but you have narrowly maintained a B-. If this is your favorite class, why didn’t you come to office hours sooner?” “I-” Your mind is moving too fast to form an answer. You look down at the ground and can’t help but press your thighs together. You’ve only had a few moments in such close proximity to Professor Reid before, and definitely not alone. His eyes seem to darken, “Do I make you nervous?” You just press your legs further together “Umm..” “Come here.” He says in a soft yet demanding tone while scooting his chair back. When you walk over to him he gestures towards his lap. “Sit.” You comply. You put your right hand on his shoulder as his left-hand reaches around you and grips your side. He can probably hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“You know how I knew you wanted this? When I guest lectured in your physics class you were wearing sweatpants. Out of anything you could have worn, sweatpants. You tried to hide it, but I saw your eyes widen when you saw me. You never dared to be caught dead in front of me clad from one of your tiny little skirts you love wearing to my class.” He takes the hand not at your side and squeezes above your knee. “Do you wear those skirts just for me? Tell me the truth.” You turn to him but avoid eye contact. In the quietest voice you say “Yes, just for you professor.” Knowing you were coming straight to his office hours after stats, you wore one of your shortest skirts and knee-high black boots. You hoped being alone in office hours on a dark fall night he wouldn’t be able to resist you. It was worth a shot, anyway. He smirks and before he has a chance to reply you say, “Now back to my grade, is there anything I can do to improve the grade I got on my midterm? Can I resubmit it with your notes taken into account?” “I’m sorry miss y/l/n but there's nothing I can do. The university policy states that once midterm grades are locked, any work done before can not be revised. My apologies.” 

“Is there anything I can do? Any extra credit opportunities this term?  I can help you grade papers or clean your classroom! Please I’ll do anything! I need to improve my grade, please!” He just stares at you while you beg. “Anything?” He says with a devilish smirk. “Yes sir.” You say back to him, smiling and batting your eyelashes. He takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and once he opens them he locks eyes with you and says, “Ride my thigh.” “Excuse me, Doctor?” His dick jumps at the honorific. “You said you’d do anything to improve your grade. I know you heard me, ride my thigh.” You cannot believe Dr. Reid just asked you for this. Since the first day of class, he has been the sole object of your fantasies. You’ve fallen asleep many nights imagining him bending you over his desk and fucking you until you scream.

 Without a second thought, you stand up to resituate yourself on his lap, straddling his left thigh. The moment you stand up he reaches for your wrist, “What are you doing?” You smile on the inside, those four simple words have shown you he wants this as badly as you do. “Don’t worry professor, I’m just turning around, I need something to grab onto.” You say as you sink down onto him. You put both hands on either side of his shoulders and begin to rock back and forth finding your rhythm. The roughness of his khakis against your ass and your thong pushed against your clit has you stifling your moans quickly. He grabs your chin to make you look at him, “I want to hear you, baby.” You let the moans leave your lips, still mindful of volume. He puts one hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip, gently guiding you. When he touches you, you are on cloud nine. Here you are, in your professor's office after hours riding his thigh as he speaks sweet praises to you. You swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. “That’s it baby keep going.” You are eyeing the member in his pants start to grow. Every time he speaks you get closer and closer to the edge. He can tell by the way you’re speeding up. “Come for me little girl, I want to hear how good you’re feeling.” The use of little girl sends you over the edge. 

Tightly gripping his shoulders as you ride out the rest of your orgasm, leaving dents in his shoulders through his dress shirt. Once you’re done cumming, you collapse onto his chest breathing heavily. Staring down at his lap you see his dick straining against his pants, and he’s huge. He gently rubs your back as you come down from your high. He kisses your head and lifts you by your shoulders facing him. You’re staring deep into his eyes. “You did so good for me, but it's getting late, you should get home.” “Right right, sorry. I’ll head out now.” As you stand up and adjust your skirt you notice the wet spot you left on his pants.

 He sees you staring and interrupts your thoughts, “Don’t worry about it. Can I plan to see you next week at office hours?” “Yes!” You say a little too enthusiastically. “Um I mean yeah, I’ll be here.” You say in a chiller tone. “Good, I have more extra credit opportunities in mind, I hope to see you in class on Monday. Next week, come to office hours once they're done, okay? Don’t show up before 7.” “Yes Dr. Reid, I look forward to improving my grade however you see fit.” You say with a wink heading towards the door. When you go to turn the knob it's locked. You unlock it and glance back at him. He’s still staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. You have the biggest smile on your face walking back towards your dorm, next week's office hours can’t come soon enough.

a/n: this is the first fic I’ve written in about 10 years! Should I turn this into a mini series? I have more ideas for how this story could go! Any feedback is greatly appreciated <3