#mostly marvel from what i remember

[uncultureddoubloon]

I just binged all of the Wayne Family Adventures webtoon and have been struck with an intense need to be reading comic books from the library again

[silusvesuius]

my nelvas and moraak thought crumblets

[hilacopter]

guys sonic 3 was kinda bad

[froggibus]

— Like Real People Do - Sentry

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort & fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bob seeks you out following a bad dream

CW: nightmares, insomnia, self doubt, reader is part of Thunderbolts* and was there for the final fight, knives, mostly cozy comfort vibes

some short n sweet comfort for a sunday ^.^ thunderbolts has singlehandedly brought back a love for marvel that i have not felt for years :,) gonna be writing some bucky next i think B)

This post contains spoilers for Thunderbolts*. Read at your own discretion :)

You’re awake before you even hear the knock on the door. 

Stirring in your sheets, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and risk a glance at your phone. 3am. The soft knocking has you shoving your blankets aside and reaching for the knife magnetted to the back of your nightstand. 

You rise to your feet, the cold floors of what used to be Stark tower sending a chill up your spine. You squint into the darkness and listen for a sound—any sound—from the other side of the door. You tighten your grip on the knife. 

Though you trust everyone that lives in the tower, you aren’t a stranger to their quirks. You know better than anyone that night terrors (Bucky) or drunken fights (Walker) can devolve quickly. 

Better to be safe than sorry. 

You brace your hand on the doorknob, shifting your clammy palms on the handle of the knife. Just as there’s another quiet knock, you tug the door open and brace yourself. 

Bob stands on the other side, dark hair tousled with restless sleep. His stormy eyes glance towards the knife in your hand and stay on you while you tuck it into the waistband of your pyjamas. 

You keep your voice quiet. “Hey, everything alright?”

He swallows hard, running a hand through his messy hair. You don’t miss the way his hand shakes or the red strewn throughout his eyes. 

“I—“ his voice cracks, eyelids closing in frustration. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You shuffle to the side, swinging the door open to allow him more room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

For a second, you think he’s going to say no. But then he nods, just once, and crosses the threshold into your room.

You settle in your bed first, Bob padding after you in the darkness of the room. He flinches and your hand flies to your knife. 

You scan the room for threats—but all you see are the shadows cast across the walls from the moonlight filtering through your window. Shadows. You glance at Bob and then you’re reaching for the lamp, flicking the light on. 

He lets out a sigh, his shoulders falling from his ears. He settles in at the edge of your bed, gripping your sheets. 

“So, what did you—“

He furrows his brows at the lamp on your nightstand. “You don’t—you don’t use the smart lights.” 

You shrug awkwardly, pyjama top slipping down your shoulder. “Force of habit, I guess.”

He glances at your bare shoulder and the room falls silent once again. His mouth moves but no sound comes out and his stormy eyes stay transfixed on the glow of your bare skin.

You soften your gaze, making a big show of discarding your knife back on the magnet. You open your mouth to speak but Bob beats you to it.

“I don’t remember,” he murmurs and suddenly his eyes are on his lap, a gnawed fingernail tracing the pattern of his pyjamas. “The Void, I mean. I don’t remember.”

You blink and glimpses of the rooms, of your worst moments, come back to you. You manage to force your face into a mask of calm and extend a hand to rest on Bob’s knee.

“I only know things from what you guys told me, or from what we…what we saw on the news reports. But sometimes,” he swallows hard, “sometimes it all comes back when I’m sleeping.”

Your blood runs cold. Suddenly the bags beneath his eyes and his disheveled appearance make sense. You squeeze his knee gently in what you hope can be seen as reassurance.

He shivers, drawing his arms up around his shoulders. “I see him. And me. And—and you guys. I see what you guys went through and I just—”

His eyes flutter closed and he swallows as though he’s going to be sick. Before you can think, you’re pulling the throw blanket off the corner of your bed and wrapping it around him.

A soft breath leaves him at the touch of the fabric, his hand catching yours when you go to pull away. A shock of electricity runs up your spine, the flutter of something familiar in your stomach.

You keep an arm wrapped around him, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed so that your legs are touching. He reaches for your free hand and squeezes it in his clammy palm.

“I hurt people, I hurt you guys and I hate it. I hate seeing it, I hate seeing him—me, fuck, I hate it so much.”

You rub circles along the back of his hand. “The Void hurt people,” you correct softly. “We know that wasn’t you, we know that wasn’t what you were trying to do.”

“But I—”

“No buts. I was in there with you, Bob. We all were. I—we know that wasn’t your intention.”  

You tilt your head to look at him, really look at him. Thin strands of his dark hair glow gold in the lamplight, his thick lashes catching the light and reflecting on his irises—in this lighting, he’s ethereal. Beautiful.

Your voice is almost a whisper when you speak next. “I know your heart, and I know the kindness in it. You’re not him. Bob.”

He looks at you and you swear you can see the storm clouds fading away. There’s a sudden softness in his gaze, the slight shaking of his wrists finally stilling.

He whispers your name, a hand reaching up to cup your jaw. Your eyes flick up to his only to find a comforting kind of darkness within them. 

“Bob.”

He leans in, tentatively brushing his lips against yours. He stills against you, hovering less than a millimeter away. A puff of air ghosts across your lips.

He mumbles your name and his lips catch yours once more. 

You can feel the desperation radiating off of him, feel the need coursing through him. He’s so close to you—close in a way you’ve never been before.

Your fingers trail their way up his back, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his neck. The two of you rest there, touching but not touching enough. It feels like a century that you sit there, tangled together.

His mouth falls open when he pulls away, and he’s all red tipped ears and breathless mumbles. “I—”

It’s your turn to cup his face. Your hand brushes the skin of his cheek, feeling the stubble that’s starting to come in. You lean backwards, falling into the sheets and guiding him along with you.

Bob falls into your mattress, the blanket you wrapped around his shoulders spreading out, making it look like he has wings.

You smile at him. “Why don’t you stay a while, hm? Maybe we can chase those nightmares away.”

He nods slowly and relaxes into your touch. 

Bob falls asleep quickly but you stay awake the whole night, holding him, ready for if he needs you again. You watch him until the sun starts to peek over the horizon.

The rising sun casts the whole room in gold, Bob glowing in the sunlight. Watching him now, sleeping in your bed and snoring softly, he’s not Sentry. He’s not the Void. He’s Bob, just Bob—and Bob is all you need.

thanks for reading <3 have a fantastic day!

masterlist | marvel masterlist

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: Reader asking to watch Choso jack off ^-^

Pairing: Switch!Choso x Fem!Reader Content: porn w/ feelings, established relationship, masturbation, spit, pussy job, riding, missionary, multiple orgasms (m), rough sex, cream pie

MDNI

You had developed an enjoyment of watching Choso. Watch him talk, watch him breathe—your eyes would always be glued onto him when he did anything. And that little glimmer in your eyes would go overlooked by him. 

You liked watching him reach into a high cupboard, the edge of his shirt revealing his hip in the slightest. Or when he would talk- most of the time, the words would be spoken, but your ears would hear them without registering in your mind. 

You would only pay attention to his expression- his eyebrows furrowing with a sudden severity in his tone. Or when his eyes would spark in the slightest when you would agree mindlessly to what he was saying. 

Usually, your face showed what you were thinking. Giving hints to what raced through your mind. And any hints your low eyes provided, or every half smirk that formed on your lips, Choso wouldn't acknowledge them.

Only Choso never could tell what you were thinking. Even if your expression should have told him all he needed to know. He never knew why you would look at him like that- or what it meant. 

And when he asked you; 

"Why do you look at me like that?" snapping you from the cloud of filth you would picture as he talked. 

You only replied with an earnest smile, "I just like lookin' at you." 

And Choso stayed with that idea- whenever he would see your gaze darken, he would remember what you said. Almost endearingly scanning the look on your face, as though your lowered eyes and lightly flushed skin meant that you were only looking. And nothing more. 

So when the topic of masturbation came up- something about how he only does it when he knows you're too tired or when he didn't want to bother you. You couldn't help but ask him, "Can I watch?" 

He looked off the side- furrowed eyebrows, unknowing why you'd want to watch him do such a menial thing- everyone does it, right? It's not some marvel and you gained no pleasure from it physically. But then he remembered what you told him. 

'I just like looking at you.'

A few days had passed since that conversation- too embarrassed to tell you when he would do it- and ask if you wanted to watch. It almost felt like he was admitting that he wanted you to watch. Even if you were the one who told Choso you wanted to- coming to you and saying the words. It felt too filthy- even for him. 

You had been catching up on school assignments for most of that day. Sitting on the couch of your shared apartment with a furrowed brow. Unaware of what Choso was concocting in his mind as you read through the work. 

He had been working up the courage to ask you since the morning, along with thinking up a way to say the actual words. He mostly looked at you with sad puppy eyes, hoping you would look at him and know what he wanted. 

All but begging for you to read his mind, just so he wouldn't have to say it. 

Slowly walking past you with his eyes locked onto your expression, hoping you would look up and see the pleading look he held. 

And when he sat on the other end of the couch, the ache in his sweats was too unbearable to continue waiting for you to pay heed to what he wanted. 

Your focused gaze unmoved from the words splayed onto your screen, he called your name. Barely considered a whisper and with a sprinkle of a whiny tone- as though it was your fault he couldn't admit what he wanted. 

Looking up from your screen- "Yes?" you spoke. Your tone was far too kind and tolerant for what he was about to ask of you. 

"You remember when you." he looked away from your gaze, "When you asked if you could watch-" you raised your eyebrows- eager to hear how he would phrase it. "If you could watch, me." Bells ringing in your brain as he spoke.

"Watch you?" you asked- playing coy to what Choso tried insinuating. Looking down at your screen again and hearing a light sigh as he shifted on the other end of the couch. 

Choso clenched his teeth- already flustered from what he was expected to say. "...Jack off?" he mumbled, facing away from you in shame. 

You flashed your eyes back to him, seeing his ears flushed with a light blush. "Yes, I remember." You closed the screen of your computer, lightly tilting your head and awaiting his response. 

"I was about to-" 

You couldn't help the light grin that rose on your lips. "You want me to watch you?" spoken with a hint of tease as Choso tensed his shoulders at the words. 

Still looking away from you- lightly nodding his head up and down. "I wanna hear you say it." You tapped him lightly with your foot- urging him to hurry. 

"I would like you to watch me—" he inhaled, "Jack off." He turned over to you. You, holding the very same expression that would look back at him when he spoke most times. 

And as you instructed him to go on as he normally would- "Pay me no mind." you grinned. Taking his shirt off before he eased onto his side of the bed, avoidant eyes and nerves spasming in his sweats. 

Choso sat up halfway, his shoulders flush against the wall, his legs extended, hands planted on either side of his hips as he looked at you. 

You sat at the foot of the bed, legs crisscrossed and waiting for him to start. Soaking in the sight of him- carved torso and blushy expression on his face. 

As Choso flashed his eyes to yours- some kind of way of asking if he could start. You only raised your eyebrows, urging him to go on. He lightly gulped, placing his hands on the band of his sweats. 

Lightly wincing when he pulled his firm cock from them- bordering on a purple hue on his tip, clear tears of his precum falling from his neglected cockhead, and his shaft lightly twitching against the sudden hit of air. 

It looked pained, and based on his expression- bordering on dizzy as he took a few breaths in, he had been this way for a while. "Were you like this the whole time?" you muttered, watching his head lightly nod. 

"Didn't know how to ask you." he spoke softly, tone bordering on a whimper and placing a hand onto his base. Tingles forming on his cheeks and falling down his broad shoulders. 

You watched with intense eyes- his lips parting in a soft sigh as he slowly stroked himself. Choso's grip was light- some attempt to not cum as soon as he started. His body buzzed with shivers of exhilaration and timidity.

Soft sighs took the shape of low moans as your eyes made work of blinking down to his pretty cock. 

Surrounded by his hand and stroking lightly. Building himself up as his eyes closed, looking at the curve of his neck. The adams apple in his throat bobbing with every light breath he took. Tipping his head back onto the wall with parted lips. 

"You don't watch anything?" eyes filled with amazement, and your panties starting to soil as you watched his hand take on a tighter grip. Choso nodded his head 'no'- a little sigh leaving his lips with the upturn of a whimper. 

Choso's chest lightly caved with an exhale, "I jus' think about you." he muttered, words he spoke without filter. Your cunt spasming at the declaration, making you consider forgetting this idea of just watching- wanting to give him more than your gaze in gratitude. 

But the sound of a choked whimper leaving his throat snapped you from that thought- his hand taking on a slightly faster pace as his other fisted the sheets. Watching his hand smear beads of precum down his shaft and back up again. 

You leaned over in the slightest- watching his hand start to lose its easy glide when he began. Somewhere in Choso's mind, he had thought you abandoned the idea of just watching as you tucked hair behind your ears. Looking down at his cock with a whimper, all but asking you to help him. 

Collecting as much saliva you could on your tongue, lightly bending over, and allowing a fat glob to slip from your lips. The ache between your thighs becoming more and more apparent with every passing second.

A light huff in the shape of your name left his throat- his hand taking a faster pace from the action. Choso's tummy clenched in the slightest as he felt the start of his orgasm pool, smearing your spit with his pre in urgency.

His eyes scanned your expression- the same one you held when he would speak, only this time, he knew why you were looking at him like that.

And the slight shame of how good it felt to have you watch him with that look in your eyes- having you spit on him- made it all the more easier for his eyes to close. Huffing your name as though it was you who was stroking him. 

Low eyes watching with your hands threatening to replace Choso's as his chest rose and fell in sync with his quick strokes. 

His lips hung open in a silent moan- abdomen spasming as his tip oozed pearly tears onto his tummy. His shoulders shivered as he continued his hand's strides, slower and with a lighter grasp. 

Working himself down from the orgasm that soiled his skin, the back of his hand falling onto the bed. Even if his breathing and expression seemed satisfied with one orgasm- his cock told you he wanted another. 

Hard and twitching against his abs. At that moment- you lost the idea of sitting on the sidelines and rose to your knees. Watching Choso's expression steady with every deep breath he took. Slipping off your panties and scooching closer to him. 

You planted one leg over his hip, hoovering directly above his laid cock and looking at his eyes blink up at you. The smile on your lips churning with intent as you placed your hands onto his shoulders.

Choso's made haste in landing on your upper thighs, delighted you abandoned the idea. 

Kneading the plush skin in his hands as you lowered your cunt onto his shaft, trapping his cock between his carved tummy and your cunt. A soft sigh leaving your lips at the contact. Using your own slick mixed with his spend and pre, you slowly slid back and forth on his shaft- soaking in the expression he wore at the stimulation. 

Leaning in with a soft whine and relishing the feeling of his lips against yours- slowly frotting your cunt back and forth against his cock. Similar to how he was stroking himself. But nowhere near as warm nor as slick as your core felt. 

Your puffy clit brushing against his tip with every grind your hips made. Huffing heavily as one of Choso's hands slid beneath the band of your hoodie. His touch searing against your skin. 

Your hands on his shoulders moving onto the side of his neck, bracing as your tongue slid against his. 

Messy and uncaring teeth clashing against each other, proving to you, that the absence of your cunt swallowing his cock, frustrated him far more than it did you. 

The hand on your thigh assisting in your slow glides, the one roaming beneath your hoodie cupping your breast. 

Fervor and urgency filling every moan Choso's lips rumbled onto yours- his hold on your hip tightening to guide you into a quicker pace. 

You pulled away from him, unable to withstand the heat boiling beneath your skin as your hands slipped off your hoodie. Tossing it aside, uncaring where it landed.

Choso's hand made contact with your breast again, a light groan leaving his lips as you connected your lips with his. His orgasm building again in his tummy. His grasp against your breast turning desperate- bordering on overstimulation as you slid against him. 

You pulled away from him, looking into his hazy eyes, and raised yourself forward. His cock following your cunt as you felt his twitchy tip brush against your entrance. You huffed a flushed smile- lowering yourself onto his cockhead with a shared whimper. 

Choso's hand trailing back down to your hip- whimpering at your walls sucking him in. Lips brushing against each other- not even trying to connect them, knowing it would be cut short as his tip nuzzled against your sweet spot.

And when his cock filled you to the hilt- you slowly started grinding. Ignoring the light sting from the stretch and watching his eyebrows knit, his lips parted in a drawn-out breath. 

The urge in Choso's hips was unable to be still, causing him to place his hands on your waist, holding you still as he started rutting up into you at a quicker speed. Your hands gripping the back of his head, lightly tugging on his hair as he thrusts into you without a pattern. 

You closed the little space held between your lips and his, callously slotting your tongue against his as he nudged into your sweet spot with every grind. 

Choso trailed his hands a little higher on your waist, guiding you to tip onto your side- rolling onto your back with Choso's knees bent on the bed. Leaving him atop you with your thighs beside his hips.

Slipping his sweats lower on his thighs as he pulled back from your cunt- sliding back into you as he desperately wanted to when he was beneath you. 

One strong hand on your thigh as he rolled his hips against you, moaning shamelessly into the air as the other planted onto your tummy with his thumb on your clit. Watching your face churn with small circles drawn against the sensitive bud. 

The crude slapping of his balls against your ass, breaking up the joined whimpers that left your lips and his.

Your back arching against the sheets as he thrusts into you- so desperate for just one more as his hand on your thigh hooked behind your knee and started applying pressure. 

Your pinned thigh gave his cock a better angle to mistreat your gspot with every rough thrust. Fever-filled eyes struggling to stay open with his hips taking on a furious pace- his lips mumbling words muffled by pretty whimpers. 

Choso's face was adorned with the lightest sheen of sweat on his airline, furrowed eyebrows, and clenched teeth as he had his way with you.

His thumb rubbed harsher circles- so fucking eager to finish together as your moans drew clearer. Threats that he was close spoken in broken mutters- a breathy string of moans leaving your lips in response. 

Air being knocked from your lungs with every mean thrust against your thighs- and with one guttural groan leaving his clenched teeth, Choso spilled his thick seed into your cunt. 

His movements with his thumb refused to stop as the fulfillment of his spend pushed you over the edge.

Walls twitching around him as he slowed his thrusts, fucking his seed further into your as your breathing steadied. Choso's tired eyes looked down at you with a heaving chest- his back unable to keep his posture as he eased himself down onto you. 

Pressing his ear against your collarbone and easing his hold on your leg. Allowing your thighs to press against his hips, arms instinctively thralling over his shoulders, a sigh laced with a moan leaving his lips. 

Choso's softening cock twitched inside of you with every after-orgasm tremble that shook in his shoulders. 

"So much," he huffed heavily, swallowing lightly. "-for just watching." he smiled, closing his eyes against your chest and feeling a half laugh rumble against his profile. 

The realization of that expression you held while looking at him most of the time— meant pure filth. He hazily thought back to every time you looked at him with bedroom eyes and smiled to himself. 

-

(a.n) tarde pero sin sueno, start of Choso week hehe

[wonderjanga]

We Thought You Died?!

Billy became a hero in 1959, and he was a hit. He was extremely popular. Captain Marvel was a beloved hero. As for the Squadron of Justice? They were beloved too. They, plus Captain Marvel were the superheroes of that time. They were the flipping blueprint for being a hero, especially Captain Marvel. Then the bubble formed in 62, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth and everyone thought he died.

Then, out of nowhere, they just reappeared.

News channel: *showing a clip of Marvel*

Grandson: *tugs on Grandma’s sleeve* “Grandma, that looks like the hero guy the teacher are making us learn about.”

Grandma: “Amazing. He looks just like the real thing.”

Yeah… People didn’t really believe it at first. Though, to be fair, all the Fawcett heroes have been gone for over sixty years.

Old Man: “It’s disrespectful is it what is. Just because you have the same powers doesn’t mean you can dress up as a dead hero.”

Old Woman: “ I just feel bad for the families. To see someone dress up as your dead husband or wife and then go around pretending to be them? Disgraceful.”

It was then the Justice League got involved. They really couldn’t have these people running around like this. Not only that, but some of the imposters are lethal. Not to mention that there are people in the Justice League who used to know the Fawcett heroes. They were friends with them for Christ’s sake. So that’s why unanimously, they went and confronted these guys.

Supes: *hovering over Fawcett*

Marvel: *helps a cat out of a tree and sees him so he flies up*

Supes: *disapproving look* “I hope you know that if you’re trying to be a her—”

Marvel: “Oh my gods, your suit is awesome!”

Supes: “Thank you…?

Marvel: “Are you a new hero? What’s your name? Are you from Fawcett or are you gonna join us here?”

Supes: *computing, still stuck on the first question*

Meanwhile, Flash and Minuteman were arguing which then somehow spiraled into them getting tacos. Batman and Robin, and Mister Scarlet and Pinky are just fighting. And Bulletgirl and Wonder Woman had a civil conversation that actually got them a lot of information.

After sorting out the entire misunderstanding that they were all imposters, things thankfully got lighter.

Marvel: “Oh my gods, Jay, you’re an old man! What happened to your long luscious locks of beautiful brown hair?”

Barry: *holding back a laugh* “Long luscious locks?”

Jay: “Okay, it was not long, luscious, or beautiful. He just insists on calling it that to embarrass me.”

Marvel: “But it’s true! Or it was true.”

Jay: “No it wasn’t. I had perfectly average hair, thank you very much.”

Yeah, Billy met up with some of his old friends, and they were all ecstatic to see their eight feet tall, golden retriever who just wanted to make the world a better place.

Marvel: “So your not an hero anymore? Then what happened to the JSA?”

Alan Scott (First Green Lantern): “We disbanded…”

Marvel: “WHAT? Why?”

Alan: “Well, we were getting old. We needed to retire.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah.” *sounds a little bummed*

Alan: “I mean, there’s now this thing called the Justice League? Wildcat joined them. So did Mr. Terrific.”

Marvel: “That sounds like a ripoff of you guys!”

He joins anyways. So do the other Fawcett heroes cause they might as well. That’s when things go down hill once more because the JL are forced to remember that a couple Fawcett heroes, mostly Spy Smasher, kill people.

Batman and Spy Smasher: *tied up the Joker after beating up his goons*

Spy Smasher (SS): “Alright, let’s get out of here.” *pulls out a gun and puts it to the Joker’s forehead*

Batman: “What are you doing?”

SS: “I’m ending this…?” *cocks his gun*

Batman: *slaps the gun away* “No, you’re not. He’s going back to Arkham.”

SS: *pulls another gun out* “Yes, I am. Are you seriously telling me you don’t want to permanently end this guy? I’ve heard people call him a terrorist.”

The two then duked it out and the Joker still went back to Arkham anyways. Spy Smasher was so salty, not that literally anyone could blame him.

Marvel: “Wait, so people don’t kill villains anymore?”

SS: *sitting next to him, bandaged*

Wildcat: “Nope. Nowadays, you got to turn them into the police and let them break out again. I know it’s stupid.”

Marvel: “But what about the mass murderers? What about the Black Adams or the Captain Nazis? People who have done messed up stuff?”

Wildcat: “To jail they go. Why do you care anyways? It’s not like you killed any of your villains.”

Marvel: “Well, I didn’t, but I gotta ask because Smasher is trying so hard not to physically claw off his own skin at the thought of these guys just breaking back out.”

Safe to say, getting used to the modern world, took some getting used to for everyone. As for Billy, he chills with the gang at the old folks home, reminiscing about times as if he’s aged with them.

Also, like, genuinely, their disappearance would show up in top ten unsolved mysteries vids because genuinely, they just disappeared with no trace.

Billy also doesn’t know what to think of the many memorials he finds of himself and the other Fawcett heroes around the country.

[queers-gambit]

Supposed To

prompt: ( requested ) at the intersection of your cases, you and Bucky have to play man-and-wife. it's hard remembering what things are Supposed To be.

pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes x female!Avengers!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: The Main Character trope: fake marriage

word count: 8k+

warnings: author's favorite, cursing, appropriate spoilers (New Avengers), fake marriage trope AND fake pregnancy!! Bucky flirts (OC) heavy, oneshot so there's ingrained background, poor description of espionage, height difference, light NSFW vocabulary, fluff, some small drama, maybe light angst, but happy ending. mentions of illicit crimes: human trafficking [of pregnant women]

"Bullshit! No, no, no, that's fucking bullshit!"

The usual even, set, borderline grim expression Valentina Allegra de Fontaine sported dropped into a confused frown at the shouting of supersoldiers. However, Bucky Barnes' expression remained passive and bored, striding off the elevator when they arrived on the main landing. Personal assistant, Mel, shrugged at Val before the two begrudgingly followed.

"You have to be fucking cheating! How the fuck - "

"What'd I tell you about raising your voice at me, Walker?" Your voice greeted the new arrivals, glancing over automatically as if you could just sense Bucky's presence enter the room. "Bucky, Walker's talkin' outta turn."

"Yeah, I heard, doll," he soothed with a smirk, pausing behind the couch to caress the top of your head in greeting.

"He's yelling."

"I know."

"At me!"

"I know."

"You can't just call your guard dog every time - "

"Walker, you keep yellin' at her and I'll break your arm."

You smirked triumphantly and flipped Walker your middle finger, the usual group gathered to watch anyone pulverize Walker's ability at a few modern videogames. Today's match: Mario Kart, and he was still a sore loser.

"Well, this is cozy," Val commented, drawing the attention to her. "Nice to see you're all taking team bonding really serious." Her arrival made Bob pass off his controller and shy away from Yelena's side to retreat for his reading nook, immediately shrinking behind the screens and bookcases placed for his comfort. If the woman's arrival wasn't enough by itself to set the team on edge, they were certainly sour for her scaring Bob away.

For now, everyone played nice; especially around Bucky, who had become a natural leader since the formation of the team. "Is there a reason you're here?" Ava asked stiffly, taking the controller from John; having called winner two rounds ago.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she sighed, hand out to Mel who placed a tablet in her clutches. "Something's come up that requires our immediate attention."

"Ooooh. Sounds serious," Yelena mocked, nudging your bicep; both rolling your eyes. You only half listened to the woman, mindlessly selecting your character and karts, snickering when John sassily took up the last controller and joined the match.

"There's been a development in the Caldwell Case."

You paused the game, head snapping over with a halfhearted glare; mostly shrouding the pair in confusion with narrowed, accusatory eyes. Yelena protested, but you asked over her, "What development?"

"Oh, you don't know? You've been working this case with Bucky, haven't you, my dear?" She purred.

Your eyes rolled, Bucky easing, "We've all had some stake in the case, Val, get to the point."

"Well," she chirped, "there's intel that suggests there's a major shipment coming in tonight. Caldwell's throwing a banquet as a diversion and alibi and I got ex-Congressman Barnes on the list - "

"What's that to do with any of us?" John scoffed, still brooding over his earlier failure.

"I need all of you in action tonight," she answered simply, hip cocked as she watched the New Avengers each look up at her in skepticism.

Usually the voice of reason, Bucky squeezed your shoulder and pleaded softly, "Doll."

You nodded and shut the entertainment system off, standing from the couch. "We'll hear you out at least. C'mon, guys." There came swift complaint that was silenced by their begrudging agreement, following where you and Bucky lead them to the upper level control system.

"Can you pull up the files as I walk them through it?"

"'Course," you eased, taking a seat at the control panel and navigating the tablet expertly that would display everything on the mounted screens. There had been many late nights working this case and while some were spent simply giving Bucky technology tutorials, it just came easier to you.

Bucky explained to the team, "About 3 months ago, we received intel that Senator Leon Caldwell was selling state secrets. He allegedly owns multiple anonymous subsidiaries and organizations, several of which we've linked to terrorist groups." You clinked through a few slides to show the team what evidence had been gathered. "There's talk of corruption in the upcoming election and Caldwell's been linked to rumors of arming a homegrown militia - who've since been associated with acts of human trafficking..."

"Specifically, trafficking pregnant women," you followed, tapping your files to life. "Which is where I come in - I've been tracking these guys for 6 weeks. There's a pattern of multitudes of women going missing just into their third trimester." You let the map and charts speak for themselves, then throwing a new image on the screens. "And they're also sponsoring tonight's gala, so all donations and such will go to them and whatever egregious play they have at hand."

"Jesus," Ava cursed, her and Yelena looking over the evidence on their personal tablet.

"And tonight," Val stepped forward, "we know several attendees will be those he's put in power of his other orgs; all mixing and mingling with this country's political elite. We're sending all of you into the field. Bucky, you and Y/N are gonna attend the gala and track down IDs; we can't get any cameras inside, it's very anti-technology. In the meantime, Ava, Yelena, and John, we need at the ports to track down what's coming in or out."

"You don't know?"

Val shrugged at Yelena, "Not everything is nice, neat, given to us with a bow on top. Sometimes, we have to actually work."

"Wait, why's Y/N going with Bucky? Wouldn't it make sense to send one of them in the field, too?" John asked, knowing full well you and Bucky might've been the strongest on the team and would fair better in action than espionage.

"Well, first, they're the only ones able to get along long enough to pull this part off," Mel listed. "They also know this case, and we need IDs - this opportunity won't come again," Mel explained, Val waving her off.

"Y/N also isn't a well-known face." You offered her a look of distain, upper lip snarled in offense. "What? It's a compliment. She's gonna play Bucky's wife tonight."

"Wait, what?" You asked, glancing at your comrade.

"It's what his RSVP is for - and you're the bait," Val explained smugly.

"I'm sorry?"

"That wasn't what we agreed to, Val," Bucky growled, shifting to stand somewhat in front of you protectively; making the others share a mild look of amusement behind your back.

Val snapped her fingers at Mel, who paused to wrestle something from her oversized purse. She revealed what appeared to be a synthetic pregnant belly that straps around the waist. "What the fuck is that?" You whispered, slowly standing from the chair to peer around Bucky.

"See?" Val mused, holding the prosthetic baby bump like a prize fish. "They want pregnant women, who's more tantalizing than Congressman Barnes' wife?"

"Ex-Congressman," John corrected with an eye roll.

"You think they're gonna kidnap people from the gala?" You scoffed, but shared an unsure look with Bucky.

"Wouldn't put it past them. C'mon, take it."

"This is ridiculous," Bucky watched the hand off, how you held the strap-on with a few fingers; disgust marring your features. "Y/N isn't bait - nobody would dare put their hands on her - "

Val explained like it was simple maths, "Exactly, see, if she's with you, she's safe as can be while still attracting the right attention. She's the ideal target, everyone's gonna wanna talk to the pair of you - and you can keep a close, personal eye on her, Barnes."

You shrugged at Bucky and held the belly up to your stomach, shaking your head at how ridiculous it was. "Under something, it's supposed to look real," Mel explained to you almost sheepishly. Yelena reached for the prosthetic and comically held it up to herself too; snickering with Ava.

"And what of me?" Alexei asked boisterously, clapping and appearing behind Val and Mel. Yelena dropped the belly in shock, not wanting her father to see her and get ideas she'd never hear the end of; swiftly kicking it towards you.

"You're on transport, Alexei," Val answered, "where if any of the field agents need from one port or the next, you'll be stationed to bring them."

"Excellent - wonderful!"

"Yes, I thought you'd like that," Val hummed, smirking almost knowingly.

You were turned away within your hotel room for the past hour or more, grumbling and gritting your teeth as you angrily got ready. The belly wasn't something that sat naturally or comfortably even when you layered a muscle shirt under it to keep it stationary, ticking your irritation higher. It was mostly fruitless, little tricks unsuccessful in the long run, and no matter what you wore, it looked fake and lumpy.

Footsteps slowly approached, a soft knock at the closed bathroom door. You granted permission, still fighting the belly as Bucky pushed into the room but paused to lean on the doorframe. "Having trouble there, princess?" He smirked teasingly, casually fixing his cufflinks.

"It's kinda ridiculous," you chose to ignore his little jab in favor of complaining. "It's supposed to be a simple device, sure, but it - doesn't - sit - right." Grunts filled between your words, forcefully trying to situate the belly.

"All right, all right, this is just sad. C'mon, stay still," Bucky chuckled while pushing off the frame. The movement drew your eye to rake him over top to bottom.

"Oooh, you look niiiiice," you distracted yourself when Bucky strode over the marble floor to stand behind you. "You sure clean up, don't'cha, old man?"

"Thank you, doll," he teased, taking a look at the straps. "Besides this, you almost ready?"

"Yeah, just gotta get the dress on - oh, shit," you chuckled when he yanked on the prosthetic enough to make you stumble back a step.

"Sorry, sorry," he sincerely rushed. You snickered assurance it was fine while holding the belly in place. "Uh, so, this is... Uh, I don't - I'm not sure how to say this."

"Oh, you just start at the beginning."

Bucky's face over your shoulder in the vanity mirror was soft and his lips were turned up at the side. "I think your undershirt's getting in the way," he informed.

"Oh," you eased, tugging the material up towards your breasts to free from under the belly and wrangle it over your shoulders and head. It left you in athletic shorts and a black silk bra. "Better?"

"You're very brazen," he noted, focusing on fixing the belly's structure.

"You said it was in the way!"

"So, you strip?"

"Nervous to see a woman in her bra, Agent Barnes?" You couldn't help but tease. "It's basically the fashion now adays."

"Women in the '40s dressed in a very different manner," he chided.

"Could just thank me for giving you a new record for getting a lady to pop her top for you."

"That's not exactly something to brag about. Moments like that should be revered - private."

You purred, "Oh, Mr. Barnes, how you're a man outta time."

His cheeks flamed, distracting, "There, how's that?"

"Is it... Too loose? Does that look right?" You turned in the mirror, hands splaying this way and that. "It's not laying flat, here, look - "

"All right, lemme try... This..."

You held still, letting him make adjustments. "So, who'd you prefer?"

"What'd you mean?"

"Ladies from your time or mine?"

Bucky met your eyes as he clipped the final strap, belly finally snug, secure, correct. "Yours. Definitely yours," he purred. "That better?"

"Way better, thank you," you surveyed in the mirror. "Here, uh, could you give me a second, I'll need you to zip me in." He agreed, watching you retrieve your dress from the plastic protection wrap hanging on the back of the door. Bucky had never assisted a woman in dressing for a formal event before, shifting awkwardly as you shimmied the material up and over your hips. You smirked at his sheepishness, taking mercy and turning your back, "Okay, here, can you zip me in?"

Bucky didn't verbally agree, just reaching out to pull the zipper from the bottom to top of your spine; incessantly careful not to touch your skin. You situated the dark royal blue top again and checked your reflection, humming at the sight of your fake baby bump on sparkly display.

"Well, my, oh, my," you sang, stepping back to stand beside Bucky and take his arm, "don't we look handsome?"

"You look... Wow," he nodded, eyes raking over your newest curves. "Just gorgeous, sweetheart."

"I can't tell, but this look might be giving me baby fever."

"What's that...?"

"Mh, basically when you start craving a baby," you explained casually, brushing off invisible flecks of dirt while admiring your reflections. "You know, I like us matching," you mindlessly complimented, realizing how it sounded and quickly trying to save, "I-I mean, in this color - I like us both in this color - both separately and, like, together, but I mean, like - you look nice in royal blue - really nice - and I think this dress looks good, it's all just a good look - you know, like, overall."

Bucky smirked, "It's a good overall look, doll, yeah."

Feeling flushed with embarrassment, you waved him after you, "Okay, yeah, c'mon, let's go, it's too emotional for me in here." Upon reentering the hotel room, you packed your thigh holster with items displayed on the bed.

"I thought playing man-and-wife would make us emotional?"

"Yeah, well, that's a show for the public," you deflected, "so no need to get into it just yet, right?"

Bucky watched you for a moment, considering how you would shy away from genuine emotion more than he. Over the past couple years, Bucky had taken therapy ten times more seriously and began to notice a change in himself; making a conscious effort to be more engaging and open with those around him - especially the team. He had to admit, it was odd going from a singular lethal machine to a team player, but Bucky had the ability to adapt; he'd never had an issue following Steve and surely, there were other worthy leaders in this world. But Bucky was slowly finding his stride as a leader himself; someone who commands and leads, considers the greater good; is calculating but not conniving; stealthy, not secretive; rational, selfless, and considerate.

When conjoined as a team, Bucky naturally gravitated to you after having few interactions in the past - mostly Avenger related situations. You knew Steve and Sam, Tony and Natasha, Wanda and The Vision; yet never truly joined their team, something akin to a lone wolf. Then Valentina came into operation, you were consistently employed; but so lead into the entire situation at hand where Val tried to dispose of her supersoldier mercenaries and inadvertently formed the New Avengers.

Bucky felt like he was hitting a brick wall with you sometimes.

Easily the most familiar on the team, the pair of you got to know one another more intimately. It soon became dynamic to find one with the other, like your minds were connected by an ancient string that none others could appreciate. The two of you moved fluidly; complimentary and anticipatory, where you needn't communicate to understand what the other needed or when. For a brief moment, he thought the pair of you made so much sense, he might've questioned if you had been created in a lab for him before being wiped from his memories. Yet when few walls dropped and the pair of you confided in the other, spilt secrets, spoke candidly about certain woes and experiences or feelings, Bucky could feel you reinforcing the rest of yours. If he got too close, you were reforming boundaries and keeping a safe distance that would maintain appearances but diminish authenticity.

He wanted to open his mouth and possibly confront you, but while a healed and still-healing man, Bucky wasn't there yet and instead, fixed his growing hair in a wall-mounted mirror.

"Okay, so," you situated the holster in place, "did you get the camera?"

"What's that now?"

With a smile, you retrieved the minuscule camera Ava packed and approached him. "This," you explained, situating it into his lapel, "is a tiny camera that's gonna see everything you see. It's transmitting... So it's being uploaded to our file data base as it records. Somewhere in this Godforsaken city, Alexei is sat with an old laptop, he's gonna be watching and trying to make IDs as we go. Mel and Val are doing the same from wherever the hell they are."

"So they can see?"

"Mhm. Once I turn it on - which I will when we leave."

"Do you have one, too?"

"Oh, no, no where to hide it on this dress," you snorted with a small shake of your head. "No, I have the mics clipped in my hair."

"So, we're gonna need to stick together to make sure we pick up everything? Right?" He whispered, watching you fix and fiddle with his suit.

"Exactly right. You know," you commented in a whisper, "this just really brings out your eyes."

"What? Work?" Bucky joked with a teasing smirk.

"No, the suit," you huffed, petting his lapels in place. "Okay, so, what's the cover tonight?"

"Doll, I have it all memorized - "

"Prove it. Tell me. How did we meet?"

The group of older, wealthy, politically-affiliated men and women cackled with those rich, snooty laughs at you and Bucky. "No, honest story," he reiterated, "there I was, dripping in scalding hot coffee, and all she could manage to say was - "

"'My muffin!'" You mocked yourself, the group laughing again as Bucky beamed down at you.

"Oh, a woman after my own heart," one of the audience members complimented with a small wave of their hand.

"I had my priorities straight," you mocked, fluttering your lashes; causing the ladies to snicker.

"You can see why I fell in love at first sight," Bucky muttered to the men beside him; fingers flexing to pointedly dig into your ribs.

"She's timeless, Barnes," another agreed. "Hard to believe after all that, she still gave you a chance."

The group snickered as Bucky just shrugged and pet your waist protectively with his flesh hand, "Well, I bought her two new muffins and she's been spilling coffee on me ever since."

You couldn't dwell on his sweet words, tacking on, "Oh, you know how I just relish the extra housework, getting those extra stains out."

He grinned at you, making the collective thought pass in a wave among the audience: so that's what his smile looks like.

"Well, that's wonderful, Barnes, good for you," Senator Reeves complimented while clapping Bucky on the vibranium bicep, immediately wincing and wagging his hand out. "Glad to see you're embracing some, uh, modern marvels."

Ice rattled the glass Bucky lifted to his lips while easing, "Modern? No, sir, I'd marry her in every lifetime."

Despite the lack of alcohol, your stomach warmed and turned fuzzy, feeling as if breathing was a chore. Your emotional dams were typically steel traps, but Bucky had a way of leaking past those barriers; so while you were well aware of the job at hand, my God, did it feel otherworldly to hear him claim you so proudly. Definitively.

"You sound whipped, my boy," Reeves cackled. "You're telling me, you adore this woman that much and still chose to waste her time with us boring folk? Now, that's just mean."

The group shared another laugh as Bucky sipped his whiskey again. He was mildly impressed by the way you jumped in effortlessly, "No, no, that was all me - I told him we needed to be more charitable." You felt the way your 'husband' shifted anxiously and knew he was beginning to struggle keeping appearances. The conversation called Buck back to attention, giving you time to visually rake over the party guests, mostly just noticing the amount of dollar signs in this very room. Only half-listening to the rather haughty conversation, you squeezed Bucky's waist and whispered the code, "Think I need some water."

"Of course, sweetheart." He kept you by his side but retracted his arm from your waist only to take possession of your hand. "We'll see you ladies and gentlemen around."

With a halfhearted dismissal, you and Bucky stalked through the gala attendees to approach one of the refreshments bars. "You okay?" You stepped into his side to ask quietly.

"Good, yeah," he muttered.

"James."

"The slinking around, I'm good with, fine - but the talking. That's where it gets me, doll, and I feel like I'm not blending-in as well as I want to be."

"That's why I'm here," you assured softly, pausing to accept a water glass from the kind waitstaff. "Just gotta play dutiful, attentive husband; I can do most of the talking."

"So I'm just the arm candy?"

"Exactly," you chuckled. "Hey, you're the one who didn't tell them you had a smoking hot wife when in office."

"Wasn't their business. They're lucky I'm letting them see you now," he growled, glancing up at the bartender. You're both just playing a role, it's not real - it's not real - it's not real, you reminded yourself. He handed the bartender his empty glass and ordered a refill double whiskey. At your look of reprimand, he smirked, "It's okay, sweetheart, know I can't get drunk."

"Mhm," you teased, smirking gently, "but it might make you tired, we're gonna be here a while longer."

Bucky's arm tightened to bring you flush into his side, growling, "I don't get tired." The look of shock was impossible for you to fight, words evading you.

"Jesus, are we supposed to listen to them flirt the entire time?" A voice whined from your inner ear. "Just fuck it outta your system, you two."

"Fuck off, Mel," Bucky growled, bowing his head to brush his lips over your forehead to disguise his words.

"If you don't like it, don't send us on missions together," you shot into his shoulder, smiling up at Bucky - causing him to break and send you one right back. His hand lifted to gently pet a crooked finger down your cheek as if petting the velveteen petal of a fresh floral.

There was some grumbling over the line as Bucky scanned the room while you accepted his whiskey. "Uh, problem," he looked down at you, relaying, "I've eyes on Conrad Cross."

Your own widened a fraction, Bucky pulling you safely into his opposite side as Valentina was heard, "Get him on the feed, Barnes! We need a positive ID!"

"Fuck me," you whispered, clearing your throat and handing Buck the glass as he adjusted his jacket and turned you towards the room. "Okay, just - let's walk around, speak quietly, make it look like you're just telling me who's who, what's what. Lean into it, people tend to look away from PDA."

He agreed, guiding you around the semi-crowded floor slowly with his lips at your ear, hands around your waist or hips or on your belly; strategically maneuvering to get an image of notorious arms dealer, Conrad Cross, on camera. This was a tricky situation to be in because Bucky's gentle caresses practically sent you into heat and Conrad was virtually the one person you didn't want to see here tonight. He was for sure able to identify you after a close encounter a few years prior, the large scar cutting through his right eyebrow and down his cheek guaranteed he remembered you.

"Just stay close," Bucky whispered, turning your back to Conrad and situating himself so his suit could film the target. "You're okay, pretty girl, you're doing great," he praised, hand lifted to hold your waist as you sipped your water.

"Val? Got it yet?" You asked into the rim of the glass. Several seconds ticked by.

"Got it."

Bucky was turning you to flee, but froze when his name was called. "Ah-haaa, the famed Winter Solider, no fucking way," the madman leered as he approached. He chuckled and wagged a finger, "I was told you'd be here but I didn't dare believe it." Bucky stiffly regarded Conrad, jaw clenched at the old moniker; hand tight in yours, but you turned into his side as a supportive wife would. He knew you were consumed with panic by the way he felt you nervously twitch and planted a warm hand on your waist.

"I don't recognize that name anymore," he grit stiffly, truthfully just wanting to get you out of there.

"Apologies, friend," the heavy accent mocked, "just a big fan. Wasn't a huge supporter when you went into politics though, but, uh, I get it now."

"Right," Buck's hand tightened on you, "well, it's been a pleasure - "

"Oh, right, sorry, uh," he offered his hand, "Conrad Cross, independent contractor."

Bucky was forced to release his hold on you, shaking the hitman's hand, "James Barnes, you can call me Bucky."

"Oh, right," he smirked. "Sure it's not Sergeant?"

You went rigid, but Bucky just chuckled and slid his hand back around your waist again. "Bucky's just fine. If you'd excuse us - "

"This your lady? Oh, didn't know it was date night."

Bucky froze, curling you a fraction closer, "Yes, but we should be going - "

"Conrad, little lady," his hand jutted out, "Conrad Cross."

You nodded and shook it while giving a fake name, "but I go by Mrs. Barnes."

Conrad chuckled and flashed a shiny gold grill, directing at Bucky, "Now, that's a woman. What's a pretty little thing like you doin' with a machine like this, darlin', 'uh?"

"As opposed to a machine like you?"

"Hmm, you know me, girlie?" He growled, nodding with a teasing smirk, "Got quite a mouth on you - "

"No, no, just very protective of my man," you cleared your throat and nervously scratched hair at your temple. "What is it you do, Mr. Cross? Are you a charitable man?"

"In fact, I am," he boasted, "and couldn't dare miss tonight; there's a few, uh, potential new correspondences t'be poached here, thought it's a good place to rub a few palms."

"So why's Bucky one of 'em?"

When Conrad's eyes narrowed and his canines flashed, Bucky distracted, "Right, well, it's been nice to meet you but we're needed elsewhere. Excuse us." Conrad just hummed and watched you and Buck turn to rush away, who hissed in your ear, "You know, for someone who doesn't need a hitman recognizing her, you sure like to give one attitude."

Your cunt clenched at the low octave of his voice and the feel of his hot breath beading on the shell of your ear yet still managed, "Guy's a jackass, it's physically impossible to play nice. And he was talking to you funny!"

"I can fight my own battles."

Before you could think, you growled, "Nobody talks to my man like that."

Bucky didn't miss a beat, hissing, "You could've pissed him off, been made, gotten hurt. You didn't have to be so biting or sarcastic, sugar."

"I'm sorry! It's my native language, I don't know any different!"

Bucky just shook his head; and through the crowd, located the main character, the center of your cases, Senator Leon Caldwell. Lost in the people now, you both paused to take in the sight, his voice directed down at you, "All right, there he is... What time is it?"

Lifting to your toes, Bucky's arm coiled around your waist to practically keep you on his hip, ensuring the curve of the bump was pressed firmly into his abdomen as you spoke in his ear, "We gotta keep him in sight another hour."

"So, we hang back and move in when he makes any escape." Bucky surveyed the room, caressing the bump mindlessly.

Glancing at the action, you mocked with a knocking grin in his ear, "If I didn't know any better, Mr. Barnes, I'd say you were enjoying this."

"Can you blame me?" He shot right back. "C'mon, doll, it's our one night not kicking, punching, shooting our way out."

"Oh, is that the only thing you're reveling in right now?"

He gave you a rare, Cheshire grin.

It was simple enough, mingling with the occupants while sipping complimentary drinks and keeping Senator Caldwell in your line of sight. You made several in-person IDs and managed to evade cutting actual checks, mindlessly rubbing your fake bump to keep appearances. Bucky clocked every movement, smirking and relishing in the cover; basking in the lie. A few times, his hand reached for a simple caress of his own, even when nobody was around to witness.

It drove you absolutely insane. While everyone else would need permission before touching you, the 'father' didn't have such restrictions and was all too eager to lay a warm hand lovingly on the squishy prosthetic. Though you didn't feel it, the knowledge of actions was erotic in a strange sense, but also intimate; especially when you clocked that look in his eyes that boasted pride.

It's supposed to be fake; a mission, a lie. So why did it all feel too real?

The pair of you always had an eye on Caldwell through your rotation of drinks and mingling. The times Bucky spoke, it was usually to direct questions and his responses were curt and direct; no fluff or allusion behind his words. The most animated he became was when someone asked if the two of you had thought of names yet. You said This or That for a girls name, and Bucky's hand immediately magnetized to the swell of your belly while answering, "If it's a boy, his name will be Steven - Steve, for short."

You knew the sentiment and appreciated the idea - quickly shaking yourself from thinking this was some how real. So, in the most playful manner you could, you held his wrist to keep his hand in place and teased, "Or Samuel - Sam, for short."

Bucky's hard glare turned on you in shock, shaking his head and grumbling, "Betrayed by my own wife."

Your grin was authentic and the people around you were entertained, but the way Bucky was looking down at you made it hard to comprehend anything other than the way his molten eyes swam with the deepest parts of his soul. Heat between the pair of you dialed to 11, his mouth parted just right to make the sight irresistible.

Yet before any action could be taken, Mel complimented over the comms, "Doing great, you guys, just 20 more minutes and the others should be at evac."

You hummed and sipped your water, eyes scanning patrons and clocking first, reporting, "Caldwell's on the move."

Bucky looked up as you immediately parted from his side, striding across the floor in an effort to intercept the Senator. You slunk between bodies and smiled in passing, but came to a halt just feet away from your target by an intoxicated woman hanging off a donor's arm.

"Oh!" She dramatically lamented, "You look so beautiful!" You tried to thank her and step around, but she latched to your arms, "You have to be, like, 6 months or something, aren't you? Wow, your bump's so perky - " She laid her hands on your bump, making you flinch, "and you look so fit in this. This is how I think I'd wanna look if I was pregnant! Honey, honey, look - look," she tried to paw for her date's attention towards you and ignoring any sort of attempt. Caldwell was crossing the room. "He's not looking - but you have the cutest bump and I want - "

"Okay, yes, thank you, all right," you pulled away from her, automatically shielding your belly, "but you'll have to excuse me, I need the restroom."

You didn't give her time to comment, yanking yourself back and dodging around her abruptly to the sounds of her protesting and arguing with her date about not getting her pregnant - which was a direct pipeline into him not proposing yet. It would've been comical if you stayed to listen. Instead, you pushed through the throngs of people and came to a halt at the edge of the crowd after catching sight of Senator Caldwell slipping through a backdoor.

"Damnit, fucking werid bitch with no personal boundaries," you hissed, cautious of the people around and quickly schooling your features; fake smile dropping the moment you turned away to locate Bucky in the crowd. He was cutting through people just seconds later, looking angrier the closer he got.

"Don't ever fucking don't that again," Bucky growled when he reached you, seizing your waist and yanking you into him. "The plan was to stick together. Not run off at the first sign - "

"Yeah, well, we're fine, but Caldwell got away down that hall," you nodded towards the side door. "Any ideas, genius, or do you wanna keep scolding me?"

He only paused a moment then pointed, "You head out that door towards the restrooms, I'll follow Caldwell; we'll circle back."

You mocked, "What happened to sticking together?"

"Well, now we have to move," his eyes rolled. "Stay on the comms."

"Sir, yes, sir," you mused, rolling your eyes as the pair of you peeled apart.

"Hey," he caught your wrist, gently guiding you back into his warmth. For a long moment, he looked almost too intense, too concentrated, too concerned as he requested, "Just - stay safe. You're not really in fighting condition."

"James, my sweetheart," you hushed, petting your manicured nails down his chest and muttering almost against his lips, "you know I'm not really pregnant, right?"

His brows were knit in concentration, holding onto you fondly; foreheads resting together, breathing the same air in steady huffs and puffs. "Just say the word, princess, and we can change that," he breathed.

From somewhere, Mel looked to Val and capped her mic, asking, "Are we really supposed to ignore this?" "Mhm."

You quipped, "Well, that's brazen of you, isn't it? That work on your ladies from the '40s?"

"I'm only concerned about the lady in front of me."

"You're a hound."

"Been called worse."

"Could be called better."

"Just call me yours and we'll call it even."

You snorted and nudged him off you, body overheated and flushing with anticipation, desire, longing and lust. When you ducked through the door leading to the restrooms, Bucky followed where the Senator was seen. Through different halls and directions, you and Bucky crept along the banquet's back halls, unaware the other was having a nearly identical anxiety attack. The lines of professionalism were blurring the longer the night went on, making you both nearly tremble from the release of adrenaline; needing to engage something deep and nearly forgotten to keep heads on straight.

You were trained to be a machine on your own, affection and any sort of emotion the grains of sand in your fine tune. There was supposed to be no room for something so serious and intense, it wasn't how you were programmed - hence why you never joined the Avengers the first time around. Now, being on this team, you were forced to adapt to survive and that made you vulnerable, and Bucky was that single grain just beyond reach that still managed to gum-up your mechanics. His behavior tonight all but shut you down, caused a clog in your internal turbines that made reality questionable.

How one man made you come this undone was unfathomable. Yet, here you are, panties warm and damp from the evening's intimate interactions with the man who was supposed to be your teammate. It was nearly embarrassing how flushed he made you from what was supposed to just be another mission.

That seemed to be that evening key term: Supposed To.

In tandem, you and Bucky discovered different back rooms - none of which had what you were looking for, but it didn't stop you from poking around. The pair of you covered more ground when apart, neither coming across anything or one, but then, you rounded one of the bends in the hall to discover Senator Caldwell speaking with Conrad Cross and various other henchmen. You stopped short but it was too late; they had seen you, you saw them, and Conrad was lifting a finger and hatefully roaring, "Her! I fucking knew it was you!"

Caldwell rolled his eyes, "Come now, Cross. She's just somebody's wife - "

"Not just somebody - the Winter Soldier's wife!"

You just held your hands up innocently, eyes shifting back and forth as you mapped both an escape route and plan of attack in your head. Senator Caldwell turned with a degree of interest, brows perking up his forehead, "Oh really, now? Huh, she's prettier than I thought."

"She's like him," Conrad snarled, flexing his fists, "a fucking freak, psycho killer!"

"Now, wait just a minute - "

You were cut off by the Senator waving off, "She is of no interest to me, then. Do what you want with her - but don't let that baby go to waste."

"Yes, sir," Conrad growled with a sick grin; the Senator slipping out another door that left you and the others in a stand-off. For a moment, it was quiet and nobody moved.

When the first two men surged forward and you prepared yourself for the fight, you were surprised when a hulking form came striding past you; a literal breeze blowing off their surge. As quiet as a church mouse but as broad as a wildebeest, Bucky had located you, clocked the threat, approached from behind to easily surpass you and engage the first fight for you. He easily overtook the two men and advanced menacingly towards the seven others.

"Go!" He barked over his shoulder. "Team's not at evac yet, we need to delay Caldwell!"

"Bucky - "

"Go, Y/N!"

You huffed and easily took off after Caldwell while Bucky covered your escape out the side door; abandoning your heels along the way and finding a way to pin your dress. Caldwell wasn't far and there came a single opportunity to knock him out from behind and leave him locked in a room - so, you took it and left the man with his belt tied around his hands and decorative handkerchief stuffed in his mouth. You took his watch and wallet for appearances, locked the room, and ventured back the way you came to search for Bucky.

Over the comms, Mel called your name and updated, "Team's confirmed from evac. You and Barnes are cleared for departure."

With relieved assurance you'd grab your teammate, you turned into the last hall and found Bucky punching Conrad Cross down off his knees. He went to punch him again, but the man wasn't moving, so you spoke in distraction, "Hey, hey, so, listen - I left Caldwell in a room, Val said nonlethal - boo, boring, I know. So," you held up the watch and wallet, "I robbed him." Bucky stared at your shit-eating grin incredulously, hands lifting to his hips while shaking his head with suppressed amusement. "All right, c'mon, handsome," you stepped into his chest and laced your hands together again, purring, "better soak all this in 'cause team's good, they made it to evac..." You trailed off; his mouth just over yours, open as if preparing to slot together, making your brain short circuit and spark with dysfunction. His eyes flickered between your mouth and eyes, begging you to stop him, but you mindlessly continued, "S-So w-we, um, we should," he was getting closer, "um, should get outta here - "

Conrad groaned from the floor and tried to lift himself, Bucky immediately shuffling you to the side.

"Sorry, sugar - just - hang on," he stomped on Conrad several sickening times as if personally offended by his consciousness.

But the mission was to be nonlethal... So you reached for him, "Buck, hey, hey, hey, you got him, you got him, baby, we can go, we're good, c'mon."

He allowed you to only get a few feet before yanking you to a halt, "Hang on, wait a second. Hey, hey, hey, lemme see you, c'mere," he pleaded, hand raising to caress your cheek and search you head to toe. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Buck - hey, nobody so much as touched me. I promise, I'm all right." You laid your hand flat over his flesh hand on your cheek, "Hey, look at me." Waiting until those wide, tired blue eyes met yours, you continued, "I'm good. Are you?"

He nodded, both glancing around at the bodies he left you stood among. "I just... It was..." Bucky looked painfully confused, stuttering, "I felt... It felt - I forgot you aren't really pregnant and just reacted."

With impression, you mused, "Well, if this was you reacting to a fake baby bump, hard to imagine what you'd do if it were real..."

Bucky's head shook, scanning the room again. "Nobody touches my girl."

You tried to snicker, "Oh, shut the fuck up, you know what? We don't have time - "

"So when you said the same earlier, was it just because people were around?"

"Well, no, nobody heard us."

"Exactly. Just like now. So why is it when you say it, it's part of the mission, but when I do, there's no time?"

You despised being put on the spot. "Seriously? You wanna do this right now?"

"Right now."

The nerve. "Jesus, fuck, Buck, what do you want me to say?"

He stared at you for a long moment, then asked, "Is it just me? Am I alone in feeling whatever's goin' on between us?"

The urge to demand his elaboration was fought off with a mental stick, knowing you had staved the man off as long as you could and here was the catalyst. The urge to vomit churned violently as if induced by the Spinning Teacup ride at Disney World, forced to swallow pooling spit harshly while your eyes turned glassy and skin clammy. Nerves prickled skin with discomfort, molten blood singeing veins into nothing, rooted in spot and held captive by the smoldering storm brewing in your counterpart's eyes. You opened and closed your mouth three times, wishing the words could just fall out but each time, getting caught in your throat.

And of course, Val had to chime in through the comms system, "Either answer him, L/N, or get a move on."

Your eyes rolled, "You're the worst, Val."

"You two wanna get caught without weapons around a bunch of fucked up mercenaries, be my guest, I'll make sure there's always flowers on your graves."

"Bitch." Your hand laced with Bucky's and easily navigated back towards the restrooms. You shot at him over your shoulder almost angrily, "I'd appreciate if we could pin this conversation until we don't have an audience."

"Fair enough," he agreed, glancing at the way your hair was pinned off your neck with a set of disguised microphones.

Stumbling out of the hall, you were forced to reenter the gala to cut across the chamber for the exit. With firm grips, you and Bucky tried to smoothly escape, but found yourself intercepted by a drunken Senator Reeves.

"Ah, I was looking for you two," he crooned.

"Right, well, apologies, Senator, but my wife isn't feeling the greatest and we should be going."

The older man with fully grey hair chuckled and clapped him again on the vibranium bicep. Only the alcohol in his system made him absorb the impact better, no more than a single flinch before he was nodding, "Oh, yeah, I bet. Didn't give it to her enough back there, aye, Barnes?"

Your eyes widened at the innuendo, but Bucky was just deflecting, "A woman as pretty as mine, you tend to find any excuse to get her alone. It's hard keeping your hands to yourself. Always nice to see you, sir, have a good night."

As he lead you through the gala doors, you managed to peak back and catch sight of the Senator gossiping childishly with others around him. It wasn't the worst cover story, someone claiming to see you and Bucky sneaking back from the restrooms together after 'obviously' fucking. It might work in your favor when Caldwell and Cross came to.

"We good, Val?" You asked quietly, you and Bucky heading for the valet for the car that would take you to the airstrip to fly back to New York.

"We're verifying everything now, just a sec." You perked a manicured brow at Bucky, approaching the car arranged for you. As Bucky opened the door and helped you step in, Val was affirming, "We have all we need. For now, you're good. Hotel's been cleaned out, too, so just head for the airfield."

"Great, see you when we get back," you sighed, immediately reaching up to yank out your inner ear comms. The door shut after Bucky got in beside side you as you were pulling your hair pins out, calling to the driver, "The airstrip, please."

The car pulled away. You knew it was a solid half hour ride to the jet and rolled the privacy partition up.

"What're you - ?" Bucky froze when you turned over in the seat to paw at his jacket. He let you shut off the camera and toss it to the cupholder holding your mics, reaching for Bucky's cheek and gently plucked his inner ear system out. When alone, you redirected his attention to you.

"No."

"No?" He repeated, vibranium arm opened to let you into his side, petting where it laid along the outside of your thigh.

"Bucky... You're not alone in whatever's going on or felt between us. It's there for me too but I don't - I don't know what we can actually make of any of it, but no, you're not - "

Bucky's flesh hand hooked around the base of your skull, insisting you forward to let his lips meet yours in unadulterated passion that bordered on fury. The metal hand at your thigh migrated a cool path up to your hip under your dress, kneading supple skin. There was no direction; no sense; no awareness; no nothing, no anything, no everything; there was only Bucky. His heat, his taste, his smell, his grip, his tongue, his beard; the car warm with a erotic tension as Bucky fluffed with an old, once-forgotten ego that swallowed you whole.

There was no beginning, no end. There was no right, no wrong. There was only Bucky.

He was both sin and salvation. A beacon and nightmare. A blessing, a curse; temperate, unpredictable; sweet, so very salty. Masculine and strong, considerate and kind. He was all you knew and nothing you've experienced. The storm, the sky break. You wanted none of him if you couldn't have all of him; desperate to eliminate all air and space between you to become one single entity. One form. One thought.

Bucky's hand changed tactics; perpetually cool metal grazing skin to caress your cheek and hold you to his lips while his calloused hand pushed around the material of your skirt to encourage you into his lap. Once seated in a straddle, there came a moment of clarity; hand shoving into his chest to stop him, halt him, forcefully pressing pause. Bucky's head bounced off the headrest, looking bewildered as his hands immediately dropped any hold to raise innocently in the air, but before he could open his mouth, you were questioning, "The fuck are we doing?"

"C'mon, doll, even I know an old school session - "

"No, I mean - this kinda violates every rule in every book known to employees everywhere. You're not supposed to fraternize with coworkers or employers or whatever - "

"Supposed to? Baby, as far as I'm concerned, we're supposed to be together. Listen, hey," he whispered, hand caressing your cheek once more and forcing your gaze, "this isn't a mission to me. This isn't work. I dare any of them to say anything 'cause you're you and I've waited this long for you, baby, I'm not gonna just let you go."

"So, we're okay?"

"We're okay," he promised while brushing a single lock of hair from your forehead with the same gentle precision of a butterfly kiss.

"We're still - you know - good on being teammates?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But, like, teammates who fuck?"

"I was thinking something more, like... Teammates who're together...? No, uh, teammates in love? Wait, that doesn't sound much better, does it?"

"We'll work on it," you promised, nodding vigorously before reconnecting your lips to his in a brutal display of affection.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[sapphicandgraphic]

Safe House—Chapter 1

Synopsis: Natasha is a lawyer, and you’re a key witness in one of her cases. She offers her home as a safe house during trial prep. While living there, she and her wife Wanda start to fall for you.

Chapter: 1/10 (The Proposal)

Series Warnings: Non-Marvel AU, angst, crime, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective WandaNat, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings:  Mentions of violence

—————

Natasha rounded the last length of the indoor track, legs and arms pumping in perfect rhythm as she pulled ahead of her sister. What had started as a friendly cooldown jog had escalated into a flat-out sprint when Yelena challenged Natasha to a race halfway through their last lap. 

Leaning forward, Natasha dug deep and found a final burst of energy. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and the lactic acid in her leg muscles was burning as she exploded across the finish line a full three strides ahead of Yelena. 

“You cheated,” her sister called, clutching a stitch in her side.

“How?” Natasha demanded. 

Yelena gestured vaguely. “Longer legs.”

Natasha chuckled as Yelena slumped forward, propping her hands on her knees. “Best three out of five?” 

Just then, Natasha’s phone rang. 

“Saved by bell,” Yelena taunted. 

She grabbed a bottle of water and a hand towel, eyes darting around the gym. It was a private facility, and at this late hour it was mostly empty. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know when I’m heading home,” Natasha murmured, voice low. “Miss you too, detka.” 

Ending the call, the redhead slipped her phone back into her pocket and followed Yelena toward the changing room.

“How’s Wanda?” 

“She sounds tired,” Natasha said, peeling off her shirt. “Her flight’s delayed until tomorrow.” 

Yelena grunted in something like sympathy. Natasha pulled her hair back, tying it into a messy top knot. Her sister’s bright eyes shifted around the room uneasily. 

“You’re acting weird,” Natasha observed. 

“Am not,” Yelena scoffed as she shrugged out of her own sweaty tank top.

Natasha frowned. Her sister’s nervous energy was infectious. 

“Are too.” 

Yelena rolled her eyes but didn’t bother arguing.

Together they walked toward the sauna and slipped inside. Natasha took a seat on one end of the cedar bench and crossed her legs, drawing from a deep well of patience as she waited for her sister to explain who exactly she was supposed to be meeting, and why the circumstances had to be so clandestine. 

Yelena, however, said nothing. A minute went by. Then another. She glanced at her wristwatch, leaning back as sweat began to bead on her forehead. 

Suddenly the door to the sauna opened.

“There you are,” Yelena grumbled, standing up and pulling you into an aggressive hug. “I was getting worried.” 

“Sorry,” you said, voice muffled against her shoulder. “Had to make sure nobody was following me.” 

Natasha watched the interaction with interest. She thought she knew most of Yelena’s friends, but she didn’t recognize you. And you were definitely someone she would have remembered meeting. You were quite striking—tall, muscular, with a faint, thin scar over one of your hazel eyes.

“You must be Nat,” you said, gently disentangling from your friend. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Natasha gave you a tight smile. “Wish I could say the same.” 

“Oh,” you said, voice tinged with a preamble of apologetic regret. “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of me.” 

You smiled wearily and extended a hand. Natasha’s eyes narrowed when she heard your last name.  

“As in…”

You nodded. 

“Guess that explains all the cloak and daggers.” She fixed her sister with a stare. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Yelena locked the door and took a seat. “She needs your help.”

“That much I gathered,” Natasha said dryly. You took a seat on the bench opposite the sisters, collecting your thoughts. 

“My family’s reputation obviously precedes me,” you began with another crooked smile that Natasha tried not to find endearing. She watched as you ran a hand through your short sandy- blonde hair, took a steadying breath.

“I emancipated myself when I was 17. Cut off all ties with my family and did my best to disappear. Put myself through pre-med, carved out a little life in the city. Then last year, my father died.”

“I saw in the news,” Natasha inclined her head. “Sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” you said, swallowing around an unexpected lump in your throat. ”He was…”

You trailed off. In many ways, you were still processing your father’s unexpected passing. There was rage, yes, but also grief. 

“A violent criminal?” Yelena offered bluntly. 

You laughed. 

“Yes,” you agreed, getting back on track. “And I’m an only child, making my uncle the heir apparent to the empire my father built.” 

“And that’s a problem because?” Natasha prompted.

Your gaze hardened. 

“My father was far from perfect, but he operated…by a code, of sorts,” you explained, struggling to articulate what you meant. “His brother is…nothing like him. He doesn’t care who gets hurt. He’s dangerous, evil.” 

You paused, eyes flickering to Yelena. She nodded, as if encouraging you to contine. “Tell her.” 

Natasha frowned. “Tell me what?” 

You paused, lifting the hem of your shirt to wipe the gathering sweat from your face, and Natasha’s gaze flickered briefly to your toned stomach.

“Last week, his people…made contact,” you said. “They’ve extended me an offer, to rejoin the business.“ 

You looked at Natasha, trying to gauge her reaction, but she seemed to be lost in thought. Her face was scrunched into a frown of concentration. Your gaze drifted lower, to her full pink lips, and then even lower, to the golden skin of her neck and chest glistening with sweat. You licked your lips. The heat was making you feel a bit light-headed.

“Not to be rude,” she said, and your eyes snapped back up to her face. “But why the invite? What do you bring to the table?”

“That actually is pretty rude,” Yelena muttered.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, ignoring your friend. “My father was extremely paranoid, and my uncle is the same way. Could be that he just wants to keep tabs on me, and having me on the payroll is the easiest way to do that.” 

Natasha tilted her head to the side, considering this. From what she knew of your family’s crime syndicate, they traded mostly in illegal arms deals. They were also rumored to have eyes and ears everywhere.

“I’m guessing you haven’t gone to the cops?” 

You nodded. “Too risky.” 

Natasha took a deep breath, turning everything over in her mind. “How do you know this isn’t a trap?” She asked. “To lure you back in, then take you out of the picture?

You shrugged, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel a little impressed by your casual bravery. “If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already.”

She nodded and leaned back, considering all the information you had shared. 

“Last question,” she said finally. 

“Thank god,” Yelena grumbled. “I’m melting.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Natasha’s dark eyes sparkled with obvious curiosity, even as she tried to school her face into a neutral expression. 

“Well,” you licked your lips, leaning forward slightly. “You’re a lawyer, right?”

“She’s the best prosecutor in the city,” Yelena corrected, voice tinged with pride. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha’s mouth. “She’s not wrong.” 

You met her gaze evenly, squaring your broad shoulders. 

“I want you to help me take them down.” 

>>Subscribe to my Patreon for early chapter updates<<

[moonstruckme]

HI MAE so i didnt send the shy remus x reader ask but i saw that u wanted ideas and i had one. what about reader who's very cocky and like confident and stuff and remus is intimidated by her usually but then theyre at a party or smth and shes all drunk and shes all over him telling him stuff like how shes got the biggest crush on him or like how hes genuinely one of the most attractive people shes ever met and shy remus is js like 😳 while also taking care of her bc shes so drunk and simultaneously trying not to combust

Hi my love, thank you so much for your request!

cw: alcohol

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Really, it should be Sirius’ responsibility to look after you. It is his party, after all. But Sirius has a love for delegating unwanted tasks and also a love for meddling (which Remus theorizes he got at least partly from James). So, naturally, you’re in Remus’ lap. 

“You guys are so nice,” you croon, words strung together like cursive and fingers toying with a loose thread of Remus’ sweater. He’s resigned himself to letting you unravel the whole thing without complaint. “All of you, all your friends are the nicest…the warmest people I ever knew. How’d you do that?” 

Remus smiles down at you. “I think James has always been good at bringing out the best in people.” 

He’s not entirely sure how you came to be lying on your back on the couch, your head on Remus’ thigh and your hands reaching for the dangling thread above you like a cat enjoying some lazy play. If he asked you, Remus doesn’t think you’d know, either. It makes a lovely view for him, your eyes uptilted in his direction and features relaxed and unguarded as a result of the series of tequila shots Sirius had cajoled you into not realizing you’d already had a few drinks. Remus very much enjoys having you this close and being able to look at you so casually, even if your brassy, larger-than-life demeanor often terrifies as much as impresses him. Even if your head on his thigh makes his face feel like a fire hazard. 

“Don’t think he had to work very hard with you. You’re such a sweetheart already.” You say it so simply, an obvious truth, and Remus finds himself staying perfectly still like a rabbit in the woods that thinks it might yet escape your notice. His heartbeat pitters in everywhere from his cheeks to his fingertips. He worries he’s going to have to make a response, but your eyes widen suddenly. “Oh! Sit still.” 

No problems there. Remus moves only his eyes as you sit up from his lap, tucking your feet underneath you and reaching for him with your lip trapped between your teeth in concentration. You touch a fingertip to his cheek and smile victoriously. 

“Got it.” You turn your finger, showing him. “You had an eyelash.” You blow it off your fingertip and onto Sirius’ rug. Remus marvels at the unthinking loveliness of you. “Have I talked to you about your eyes before?” you ask conversationally. 

Remus blinks, ceasing his tracking of the eyelash to look at you. “I don’t think so,” he ventures, though he knows you haven’t. He remembers most exchanges you’ve had, and he definitely would have remembered that. 

“Oh.” Your brows purse softly. “Must’ve been with someone else,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Anyway, it’s important to me that you know, they’re really beautiful.” 

Remus startles, partly at the compliment but mostly at the touch you lay on his cheek, your fingers cool and gentle, like you’re steadying his face for your perusal. You look into his eyes attentively. 

“They’re brown,” Remus says in a soft voice. 

Your lips tilt like he’s said something funny. “Nobody’s eyes are just brown, Remus. There are so many different kinds.” Your index finger draws a short line across his cheekbone. Remus can’t tell you mean for it to or not. “Yours are sort of like a…like a gradient. They get lighter farther down.” 

Remus decides to study your eyes as you study his, and he sees what you mean. The shadow of your lashes makes your irises look darker at the tops. It’s difficult to tell, though, with your pupils eclipsing so much of them. 

“They’re, like, a warmish brown,” you’re saying, gaze unwavering. “Like the color you want your tea to be. You know, there’s some fact or study or something that says brown eyes make people feel safe. Did you know that?” 

“I didn’t,” Remus says. The weight of your attention is taking its toll on him, his body aching to sink into the couch cushions. He wants to ask if brown eyes have that effect on you, but he doesn’t have the nerve. “Is that so?” he asks instead.

You shrug. “I dunno. Works on me.” 

The breath stalls in Remus’ lungs. You’re looking at him like you haven’t said anything out of the ordinary, expression wide open and somewhat unfocused. 

You yawn, removing your hand from his face to half cover your mouth. It’s an awfully endearing show, and over too fast. “I guess that’s probably why—” You cut yourself off with a hiccup. Your eyes flare like you weren’t expecting it, hand jumping back up in front of your mouth. Remus grins before he can stop himself. 

“Oh.” Your smile is an afterthought, a response to his. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Remus isn’t even certain what you’re apologizing for. 

Your eyes have that sweet, attentive look again. “I really like when you smile.” 

Remus feels heat spread up to the tips of his ears. It’s official. He’s got more in common with a live flame than a human anymore. “What were you saying?” he prompts. 

You bite your lip as though you’ve forgotten. “Oh!” Your eyes light. “Just, I guess that’s probably why I have such a giant crush on you.” 

Remus’ heart thuds. He breathes, “What?” 

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, grinning at yourself. “It’s relentless.” Hiccup. “Super embarrassing. But—but you’ve got those eyes, and your freckles, and that sweetheart face…” You shrug again, helpless. Ride out another hiccup. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Remus stares at you. It seems impossible. You have a crush on him? It’s out of the natural order. The world’s gone to chaos. It’s supposed to be the other way around! Remus pines silently after you, you eventually find some big, cocksure bloke who can match you, and Remus continues to pine whilst you go on with your brilliant, dazzling life. That’s the way it’s meant to be. 

“I would…” Remus finds his mouth forming around words he doesn’t recognize until they come out. “I’d know a thing or two about a crush like that.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t look offended. “Well, yeah. I’d hope you knew I fancied you, I’ve only been seeking you out ever since we met.” 

Not what he meant. Remus did not, in fact, know that. 

“I didn’t notice you were,” he admits. 

Your head tilts. “Really?” There’s an obvious follow up question—then what did you mean just now?—but for one reason or another, you don’t ask it. You only lean onto his shoulder, your head slipping a few inches down his arm.

Remus channels all his bravery into an arm around your waist to keep you from slumping further. He vows to himself to tell you tomorrow.

[pankowcrumbs]

You never called me back X Sebastian stan

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

Words: 9.3K

Plot: You and Seb have a fight and break things off but you find out you're pregnant but Sebastian already blocked you… years later it all comes to light and he wants to be involved.

I don’t remember what the fight was about. Not really.

Funny, isn’t it? How something that ripped through me like a bomb tore everything down, burned every bridge could blur so quickly into fragments. I remember shouting. His face flushed with frustration. My voice breaking. The way we kept cutting each other off, like listening had suddenly become a luxury we couldn’t afford.

But I don’t remember what started it. Not the words. Just the hurt.

It had been two years since that night, and still, sometimes I’d wake up gasping for air, my chest tight with the weight of words I never got to say properly. Maybe that’s why I kept that last voicemail. Or maybe because it was the only proof I had that I’d tried.

That he chose not to.

We were never supposed to get close.

That’s what we told each other from the beginning laid out all the ground rules, like that would somehow protect us. No sleepovers. No public outings. No feelings. It was a laugh, really. As if two people could keep sharing their bodies without ever sharing anything else.

But he was Sebastian. And I was me. And things never really stayed simple for long.

We met through mutual friends in London, during one of his longer stays. He was working on a film, I was freelancing photography mostly, though I dipped in and out of projects like a magpie. One night turned into two. Then three. Then a casual kind of routine: his place, mine, wherever. It wasn’t romantic, we insisted. Just easy. Convenient. Fun.

Until it wasn’t.

Until he started cooking me breakfast.

Until I started waiting for his texts like a schoolgirl.

Until he looked at me, once, with something in his eyes that felt like everything and nothing all at once.

And then, just like that, it all collapsed.

The fight was brutal. Raw. We’d been skirting the edge of something heavier for weeks, pretending we weren’t. He slept with someone else casually, as we were allowed but then lied about it. Said he hadn’t seen anyone in ages. I only found out because someone else let it slip, and when I asked him about it, he brushed it off like I was being dramatic.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said.

And that, I think, was the final crack.

Because it did matter. To me.

I remember standing in his hotel room, half-dressed, mascara smudged from crying and wiping too hard, while he stood there with that maddening calm of his, arms crossed like I was the problem.

“You said no strings,” he reminded me. “You can’t flip the rules just because you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t flip anything,” I snapped. “I just expected you not to lie. There’s a difference.”

He scoffed. “We’re not dating, Y/N.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Thank God, right? Because if this is how you treat someone you don’t care about, I’d hate to see how you screw up with someone you do.”

He flinched barely but it was enough.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore,” he said coldly.

I nodded, trying not to let the tremble in my chin show. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

I left. Slammed the door behind me. Walked home barefoot because I couldn’t be arsed to put my heels back on. And when I got home, I cried until my pillow was soaked.

The nausea started two weeks later.

I brushed it off at first. Blamed it on stress, or a dodgy meal, or maybe the hangover from the wine I drank alone three nights in a row while watching terrible romcoms and pretending I was fine.

But when I missed my period, everything came into sharp, unbearable focus.

I bought the test in a daze didn’t even make eye contact with the woman at the till. Took it home. Stared at the little plastic stick on the bathroom sink like it might morph into something else if I just blinked hard enough.

But no. Two lines. Bold. Unmistakable.

I sank to the floor.

Pregnant.

Pregnant with Sebastian Stan’s child.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, curled against the cold tile, hands shaking. The fear wasn’t loud it was quiet. Hollow. Like standing in a tunnel after a bomb’s gone off and waiting for the dust to settle.

After a while, I called him.

Straight to voicemail.

I tried again.

Same thing.

I texted first a simple “Hey, can we talk?” Then, “It’s important.” Then, “Please, Seb.”

Nothing. Just greyed-out ticks and silence.

I told myself he was busy. Maybe out of the country. Maybe his phone was off.

But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

Still, I tried every day for a week. Then two. Then three. I even emailed. No reply. No bounce back. Just a void.

I spiralled. Anger and fear twisted together into something sharp and unrelenting. And eventually, I caved. Left the voicemail. The one that still haunts me.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, heart in my throat, voice shaking so badly I had to stop halfway through.

“Seb… I know you’re ignoring me. I don’t know why, I don’t know what I did that was so unforgivable, but”

I swallowed hard. Took a breath.

“ I don’t want anything from you. I just am just begging you to call me back it's really important ”

A pause.

Another breath. Shaky. Shattered.

“Please. Just call me back.”

I hung up.

He never did.

Time passed like a slow drip. Each day a little heavier than the last. At some point, I stopped hoping for a reply. Stopped checking my phone every five minutes. Stopped replaying the voicemail to hear how desperate I’d sounded.

I changed my number. Moved flats. Started seeing a midwife. Told my parents in a tearful phone call. It wasn’t easy God, it wasn’t even close but eventually, I stopped waking up with that ache in my chest. The one shaped like him.

I focused on the baby. On the little life growing inside me. And slowly, I let go of the version of the future that had him in it.

I never told anyone his name. Never gave details. Just said he wasn’t around. People filled in the blanks themselves. Assumed it was a one-night stand or a fling. No one ever imagined it was Sebastian Stan. Not the movie star. Not the charming, funny man I’d once shared takeaways and late-night confessions with. Not the man who once kissed my forehead and whispered he liked the way I laughed when I was half-asleep.

No. That version of him existed only in memories now.

Or dreams.

And even those, I tried not to indulge in.

Now, two years later, my daughter is asleep upstairs.

She has his eyes.

That’s the part that guts me most. Every time she looks at me with that stormy blue gaze, every time she frowns in concentration or bursts into unexpected laughter, it’s like he’s right there etched into her face in ways I could never erase.

I love her more than I ever thought possible. Fiercely. Protectively. She’s my whole world. And she’ll never know she was unwanted.

Not by me.

I tuck her in every night. I hold her when she cries. I make her pancakes in the shape of animals and let her draw all over the walls of the spare room because she says it makes her brain happy. I show up, even when I’m tired, even when I’m scared.

I’m the one who stayed.

And if he ever comes back if he ever dares to walk through the door and ask for a second chance he’ll have to answer for the silence first.

Because I begged.

And he never called.

It was meant to be a quiet lunch. Just a few old friends, a couple of glasses of wine, and hopefully some adult conversation that didn’t involve Bluey or Paw Patrol.

I hadn’t expected to bring Isla with me, but my babysitter rang last minute, her voice hoarse and apologetic. Flu. Couldn’t be helped. And I didn’t want to cancel not again. So I packed a little bag with crayons, her favourite snacks, and the sticker book she was currently obsessed with, and brought her along.

She was happy enough in her little booster seat, colouring away and chatting softly to her unicorn plush while I slipped back into conversations I used to be part of more often. It felt… nice. Like brushing off a coat I hadn’t worn in ages and realising it still fit.

Until he walked in.

Sebastian.

I spotted him the moment he stepped into the restaurant tall, broad-shouldered, that same damn leather jacket he always used to wear like it was armour. My breath caught in my throat before I could even process it. For a moment, everything around me went still. Like the clink of cutlery and low murmur of conversation had faded into the background, and all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

I didn’t know whether to run or throw up.

He saw me almost instantly. His eyes flicked across the table, scanning faces and then landed on mine. A beat passed. Then another. And I swear something flickered behind his expression. Recognition? Surprise? Confusion?

Then his eyes shifted to Isla.

And he stared.

She was chewing on a grape and humming under her breath, completely unaware of the earthquake that had just walked through the door. Her curls were pulled into two puffy bunches, a tiny daisy clip stuck haphazardly in one side. And those eyes his eyes turned briefly towards him, wide and unbothered.

He blinked. Said nothing.

I cleared my throat and stood up halfway, pasting on a polite smile. “Hi.”

His gaze snapped back to mine. “Hi,” he said softly.

I didn’t hug him. Didn’t offer a seat. I was too stunned, too careful. My friends were already shifting to make room for him at the end of the table, greeting him with easy smiles and enthusiastic hellos. No one noticed how my hands trembled slightly as I reached for Isla’s juice box.

“Didn’t know you were back in London,” said Alice, scooting over. “How long are you here?”

“Just a couple of weeks,” he said, sliding into the chair. “Got in this morning.”

“Ah,” Liam grinned. “Makes sense. You texted me, what, two hours ago? Said it might be nice to catch up. Figured I’d surprise everyone.”

Everyone. Everyone.

My stomach dropped. So he hadn’t come for this lunch. Not deliberately. Not to see me.

He didn’t know.

Not really.

And from the way he kept glancing at Isla subtly, but not subtly enough it was clear something was churning behind those eyes of his. He hadn’t asked anything yet, but I could feel the question dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“This is Isla,” I said quietly, almost before I realised I was speaking. My voice sounded thinner than usual stretched. “My daughter.”

His head turned slowly, fully facing her for the first time. He looked at her like someone trying to solve a riddle they already knew the answer to.

“She’s beautiful,” he said eventually.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Isla, oblivious, offered him a sticker a shiny butterfly. He smiled and took it without hesitation, sticking it to the back of his hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

And my heart twisted.

He used to say that to me.

The rest of the lunch was a blur. I tried to focus on the conversation on the stories, the jokes, the shared laughter that should’ve anchored me but my mind kept floating. Kept returning to the fact that Sebastian was sitting just two seats down, watching Isla with that cautious intensity like he was reading a page from a book he thought he’d already finished.

He barely touched his food. I barely touched mine.

Every now and then, I caught him looking not at Isla, but at me. Like he was trying to piece something together. Like the cogs in his head were turning, slow and deliberate, trying to unearth something he wasn’t ready for.

He still hadn’t said a word about it.

And no one else knew. Not a soul at that table knew that Sebastian Stan was Isla’s father. Not even Alice, who I used to tell everything. I’d never wanted to risk it. Too many questions, too much mess.

But now, sitting across from him, I felt like I was holding a grenade in my lap, just waiting for the pin to fall out.

At one point, Liam leaned towards me with a grin. “Did you know Seb was in town?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

“Yeah,” he said, chewing thoughtfully on a chip. “Texted me this morning out of nowhere. Said he missed us. Thought it’d be nice to invite him. Hope that’s alright.”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “Just… a surprise, that’s all.”

“A good one though?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Across the table, Sebastian’s gaze caught mine again. Held. My breath hitched just slightly before I looked away and wiped Isla’s mouth with a napkin.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When we all finally rose from the table and paid, the spring air outside felt too cold too sharp for the sun that was supposed to be shining.

The others began saying their goodbyes with hugs and promises to do it again soon. One by one, they peeled off down the high street until only Sebastian and I were left standing awkwardly in the dappled sunlight.

Isla was crouched by the wall, examining a trail of ants with the kind of intensity only a toddler could manage.

I could feel Sebastian beside me, tense and restless. Then...

“I’m going to ask a stupid question,” he said, voice low.

I turned to look at him.

He wasn’t meeting my eyes. His jaw was tight, the muscle ticking.

A beat passed.

Then he looked up.

“Is she mine?”

I didn’t speak right away. Just nodded, slowly.

He blinked like the world had just shifted sideways.

A crack formed in his expression something raw and almost unbearable flickered through his eyes. His mouth parted slightly, like he wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start.

Then came the quiet, controlled anger. Not loud enough to draw Isla’s attention, but sharp enough to sting.

“You didn’t tell me.”

I stared at him.

“I tried,” I said.

He frowned. “No. I never... You never”

“I called you,” I cut in, my voice firmer now. “I texted. I left voicemails. Long ones. I told you I needed to talk to you. I begged you to call me back.”

He was shaking his head, almost in disbelief.

“I didn’t get any of that”

“Because you blocked me.”

His breath caught. A flash of guilt washed over his face.

“I left you one last message,” I went on, quietly now. “I told you it was important. I didn’t say the words, but I hoped you’d hear it in my voice. And then… I promised myself that if you didn’t have the decency to call me back to even ask what was so urgent then you didn’t deserve to know about our child.”

Sebastian looked like I’d slapped him.

He turned slightly, raking a hand through his hair, pacing one small, frustrated step.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

He looked over at Isla again still crouched, still happy, still blissfully unaware.

“She looks like me,” he said under his breath. “I noticed it straight away.”

I didn’t answer.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he exhaled, barely holding his voice steady. “I’ve missed everything. Her first steps. Her first words. The first time she got sick. I’ve missed all of it.”

“You weren’t there,” I said, more softly this time. “That wasn't my fault”

His eyes snapped back to mine, something close to panic surfacing.

“Can I…” He paused, swallowing hard. “Can I see her again? Another time? Properly?”

I hesitated. The wind caught Isla’s curls just then, and she looked up at us, smiling, waving one sticky hand in the air.

I waved back before answering.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I need to think.”

“I understand.”

“I just… I can’t let you dip in and out,” I added quickly, voice trembling now. “She’s not a surprise cameo. She’s a person. A whole person.”

“I’m not going to disappear again.”

“You did once.”

He flinched. Said nothing.

I took Isla’s hand gently, feeling the tiny warmth of her fingers against mine.

“We should go.”

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

As I turned, I heard him whisper so quiet it was almost carried away by the breeze:

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t sleep much the night after that lunch.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sebastian’s face. The flicker of disbelief. The pain behind his eyes. The way his voice broke when he said he’d missed everything.

And he had.

Isla’s first laugh. Her first wobbly steps across our tiny flat. The first time she said “mummy,” and the second time when she tried to say “banana” but called it “ba-an-ah.”

He wasn’t there for any of it.

And yet, something inside me some maddening, gentle part couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her. Not with pity or fear. But awe. Like she was the most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

The very next day, he messaged.

Hi. I don’t expect a reply straight away. But I just wanted to say thank you for introducing me to Isla. I would like to see her again, if and when you’re ready. I want to do right by her. And by you. –Seb.

It took me hours to reply. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I had to force myself to believe he meant it.

I finally wrote back:

If you want to be in her life, it has to be consistent. No dipping in and out. No disappearing. If you say you’re coming, you come. Also, I’m there. Always. You don’t get to take her anywhere yet. We meet in a public place. Sunday. 11am. The park by my flat Hampstead Heath. Bring snacks. She likes grapes and cheesy crackers.

He replied almost instantly.

I’ll be there. Thank you.

Sunday came faster than I expected.

I dressed Isla in her little denim dungarees and tied her curls into two tiny buns on top of her head. She giggled as I wiped toast crumbs from her cheeks.

“Mummy, Sparkle?” she asked, holding up her unicorn plush with one floppy, sparkly leg.

“Of course, baby.”

I didn’t tell her who we were meeting. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to confuse her until I was sure.

When we arrived, he was already there sitting on a bench near the swings, clutching a bag and looking like he’d been waiting for years, not minutes.

He stood as soon as he saw us.

“Hi,” he said, awkward and gentle all at once.

“Hi,” I replied, tightening my grip on Isla’s hand.

She looked up at him curiously. “You’re tall,” she declared.

Sebastian let out a breath of laughter. “I am, yeah. I should warn you, I might bump my head on tree branches sometimes.”

She giggled, and I watched him melt a little right there.

“I brought snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. “Grapes and those little bear-shaped biscuits?”

“Approved,” I said.

We settled on a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree. Isla flopped onto her stomach, unpacking her unicorn and immediately appointing Sebastian as a guest in her imaginary tea party.

He played along like a pro.

“Would Sparkle like one lump of sugar or two?” he asked with great seriousness.

“Three,” Isla whispered conspiratorially. “She’s sweet.”

He nodded solemnly. “I should’ve known.”

I couldn’t help it I smiled. And for a moment, the tension between us eased, just a little.

The visit only lasted an hour. I kept my boundaries clear when Isla grew tired, I stood and said it was time to go. He didn’t argue.

“Can I see her again next weekend?” he asked as I packed up our things.

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Same place. Same time.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath since I first messaged him.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

I didn’t say anything. I just picked Isla up and walked away.

But I let her wave.

He waved back.

It became a pattern.

Every Sunday, 11am.

He showed up every time. On time. With snacks. With stories. With toys. With questions about her favourite songs or how she liked her sandwiches cut.

He never overstepped. Never pressured me. Never tried to rush anything.

He just showed up.

One Sunday, Isla crawled into his lap without asking, holding a book she wanted him to read. He blinked hard, caught off guard, then wrapped an arm around her and read every page with the same dramatic flair she’d come to expect from me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until I felt the tears hit my lips.

one month in, we started having coffees after the park. Just the two of us. Isla would nap in her buggy and we’d sit at the little café on the corner, sipping flat whites and talking really talking for the first time in years.

“I blocked you,” he admitted one afternoon, his voice heavy with shame. “After that fight… I couldn’t handle seeing your name. It made me feel sick.”

I nodded slowly. “I figured.”

“I didn’t expect to feel so much,” he said. “Back then. When you told me it was over. That you didn’t want whatever we were doing anymore.”

“We were toxic,” I said. “It wasn’t healthy. For either of us.”

“But it wasn’t nothing.”

“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t nothing.”

He looked at me then. Really looked. And I saw it the weight of everything we could’ve been if we’d only known how to love each other properly.

“We can’t rewrite it,” I said, softer now. “But we can give her something steady. Something whole.”

He nodded. “I want that. More than anything.”

The first time he came to my flat, Isla squealed like it was Christmas.

“You can sit here!” she said, dragging him to the couch like a prize. “Mummy makes hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows if you ask really nicely.”

“I shall beg,” he said seriously, making her cackle with delight.

I brought them mugs and stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching them.

He was holding her plush unicorn on his shoulder like a baby. She was giggling so hard she snorted.

My heart hurt.

In a good way.

In a terrifying way.

Later that night, after Isla had fallen asleep and the flat had gone quiet, he lingered in the doorway.

“Thanks for letting me come today,” he said. “For trusting me.”

I nodded. “She loves you, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“She doesn’t even know what that means yet,” I added. “But it’s in her bones already.”

He swallowed hard. “I love her, too.”

And then he looked at me. Really looked.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

My breath caught.

“We can’t” I began.

“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… I needed you to hear it. I should’ve said it years ago.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t close the door, either.

I could hear them from the kitchen.

Isla’s delighted giggle. The thump of toy blocks tumbling. Sebastian’s overly dramatic “oh noooo!” as he pretended to be defeated by her tiny rubber dinosaur.

I stirred the pasta absentmindedly, letting the warm sound of their play fill the flat like music. It had only been a few weeks since I’d started letting him come by more regularly, and already, it was becoming second nature the coat dropped on the hook by the door, his trainers neatly beside mine, the sound of his laugh joining ours.

I peeked into the living room. Isla was balanced on his knee, proudly showing him a sticker book while he listened like she was reading him Shakespeare. Her curls bounced as she babbled on, and he nodded along as though every word made perfect sense.

“Seb?” I called gently.

He looked up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

He followed me back into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard like it was his place. Like he’d always known where things were.

I hesitated, wiping my hands on a tea towel. “What… what are you going to do? I mean about living in New York. Projects. Work. Everything.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” he said. “I’m not expecting things to be easy or perfect. I’d never ask you to uproot your whole life, or hers, just to make things easier for me.”

He looked out toward the living room, where Isla was now humming to herself.

“I know you’ve built a life here. You’ve got your work, your friends. Her routines. I’d never take that away from her.”

I softened, listening closely.

“I’ll work around you,” he said firmly. “Around her. I’ve already told my agent I only want to take jobs that keep me free to fly back and forth. If I’m not on set, I’m here. Every chance I get. Whatever your schedule is, I’ll match it. I just… I want to be in her life, and yours, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

“That sounds… fair,” I said after a beat. “I think we can figure it out, as it happens.”

He smiled, relieved. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the quiet filled with the distant sound of Isla talking to herself about grapes and teddy bears.

“There’s one more thing,” I said, glancing at him.

He straightened.

“I was wondering… if you’d want to tell her.”

“Tell her?” he asked, confused.

“That you’re her dad.”

His face changed slowly the emotion building behind his eyes, guarded but rising. He glanced again toward Isla, who was now crawling under the coffee table, murmuring nonsense to her unicorn.

“She’s only one and a half,” I added gently. “She doesn’t fully understand anything yet. Not really. But she knows who’s kind. Who loves her. Who shows up.”

He looked back at me, eyes glossy.

“I think… I think if you wanted to tell her, you could.”

He nodded, lips pressed tight. “I do want to. God, yeah, I want to.”

“Okay,” I said softly. “Then let’s tell her together.”

After dinner, we all sat in the living room. Isla nestled in my lap, still holding her unicorn, while Sebastian knelt beside us on the rug, nervously fiddling with the zip on her little cardigan.

She looked between us, cheeks rosy, babbling in toddler-speak about some imaginary friend who lived in the kitchen cupboard.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said gently, brushing a curl from her face. “Can Mummy and Sebby tell you something?”

She blinked up at us, mouth sticky with leftover banana.

Sebastian smiled nervously. “Hi, Isla.”

She pointed at his nose. “Boop.”

He chuckled softly. “Boop,” he repeated.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, then composed myself.

“You know how you love Sebby?” I asked.

She nodded. “Sebby fun.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “Sebby’s a very special person. He’s not just Mummy’s friend. He’s something even more special to you.”

Her little brows furrowed in confusion.

Sebastian swallowed thickly and moved in a little closer. “I’m your daddy, Isla.”

She blinked.

I watched her tiny mouth work around the word. “Da…dee?”

He smiled, eyes watering. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m your daddy.”

She looked at me for confirmation. “Mummy?”

“Yes, my love,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s your daddy.”

There was a long beat.

Then Isla broke into the sunniest grin and launched forward into his arms.

“Daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a way only toddlers could all elbows and love.

Sebastian held her like she was spun glass, one hand cradling her head, the other wrapped protectively around her back. His shoulders shook slightly, and I realised he was crying.

“Isla,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She patted his cheek like she was comforting him now. “Daddy sad?”

He laughed wetly. “No, baby. Daddy’s happy.”

She pulled back slightly and, in her most serious tone, said, “No cry. I gots blankie.”

And then she stood, waddled off, and returned moments later with her favourite duck-print blanket, throwing it over his lap like a royal gift.

He laughed again, wiping his cheeks.

“Thank you, my love.”

He looked up at me, and I saw it all in his eyes the joy, the pain, the love, the regret.

I nodded, smiling through my own tears.

“She’s got your eyes,” I said softly.

He took a deep breath, clutching the blanket to his chest.

“And your fire,” he added, gazing back at her. “I don’t deserve either of you.”

“No,” I said honestly. “But you’re here. And that’s a start.”

That night, after he’d gone and Isla was tucked into bed, I sat alone on the sofa, sipping tea and staring at the quiet living room.

The sticker book still sat open. The little pink socks she’d kicked off were on the rug. Her unicorn was slumped over like it, too, had had a long day.

And something about it all made my chest ache with happiness, with hope, with the tiniest flicker of fear.

The first time Sebastian took Isla out on his own, I nearly called him three times in the span of twenty minutes.

I didn’t, of course. But I hovered near my phone like it might cry out for help on its own. I’d kissed Isla’s curls, watched her waddle off toward him with her tiny backpack on, and smiled as she shouted “Bye Mummy!” from the doorway.

And now the flat was still. Too still.

I tried to focus washed the dishes, made the bed, even started replying to some work emails but everything reminded me she wasn’t here. Her sippy cup left near the telly. A sticker of a giraffe stuck to my laptop screen. The scent of her baby shampoo lingering faintly in the hallway.

They were only gone for a few hours.

I still jumped when I heard the key in the lock.

“Mummy!” Isla’s voice rang out like a song.

I met them at the door. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her curls a little frizzier than they’d been when she left. She looked delighted.

“We saw ducks!” she said, waving a half-eaten rice cake. “And Daddy buy juice. He say don’t tell Mummy it has sugar.”

I raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, who held his hands up in mock surrender.

“It was organic. Ish.”

I smirked despite myself. “And how did it go?”

“She’s… perfect,” he said, lowering himself to unbuckle her shoes. “I mean, she’s got energy like a caffeine-fuelled squirrel, but she’s amazing. She made a friend at the café. Shared a biscuit. Talked to a pigeon for ten minutes.”

I laughed.

“She’s got your charm,” he added, glancing up at me. “Everyone in that park was wrapped around her little finger. Including me.”

I softened, brushing Isla’s hair back from her forehead. “She had a good time?”

“I think so,” he said.

“Best day!” Isla chirped, confirming it.

My heart melted.

And just like that we had our first solo day out under our belts.

It became routine, slowly. Some weekends, Sebastian would come by with plans: the zoo, a soft play centre, a toddler art class that ended in a very colourful disaster. Other times, we’d spend time together the three of us curled on the floor with picture books, Sebastian dutifully voicing animals while Isla cackled and corrected him.

I’d never imagined this kind of dynamic with him. A year ago, I couldn’t even look at photos of him without feeling that old, deep hurt.

Now, he was in our lives. Tangibly. Steadily. Bit by bit.

And not just when it was convenient.

One afternoon, a month later, we were sat in the garden while Isla napped the baby monitor beside us, my tea half-drunk on the table.

Sebastian was scrolling through his phone with a pinched look on his face.

“What’s up?” I asked, wiping suncream from my wrist.

He hesitated.

“I got papped yesterday,” he said. “Coming out of your building.”

My stomach tightened. “What?”

He turned the phone to show me. A grainy photo clearly taken from across the street. Him holding Isla in one arm, pushing the door open with the other. Her face was angled slightly away, but not enough to be hidden.

“Oh god,” I whispered. “Her face is in it.”

“I know,” he said, jaw tight.

“Was it posted?”

“Not officially. Not by a real outlet. Yet. A few fan accounts have it already though. I’ve already messaged my team. Asked them to make sure no one runs it. But I wanted to be honest. I didn’t see the camera.”

I sat back, heart hammering.

“She’s just a baby,” I muttered.

“I know,” he repeated, more softly this time. “I’m sorry.”

I swallowed hard. “This was always going to be the hardest part.”

He nodded. “I don’t want her dragged into anything. Not without your say. And hers, when she’s old enough to make that decision.”

I looked at him, properly.

“I never wanted to keep her from you,” I said. “But I did want to keep her safe. From this.”

“You’re right to,” he said. “I get it now. More than ever.”

We sat in silence a beat.

“I’ll be more careful,” he said. “Always. I’ll wear the stupid hat. I’ll do what it takes.”

I smiled faintly. “You in a stupid hat is its own public risk.”

He chuckled, the tension breaking slightly.

“She’s priority,” he said. “Always.”

I nodded, finally allowing myself to believe it.

A few days later, I found a locked folder in my inbox.

Private photos for Y/N and Isla only.

Inside: professional-grade images of Sebastian with Isla. Ones I hadn’t taken.

One of them sitting on a park bench, her tiny fingers tangled in his hair. Another of him kneeling beside her in front of a fountain, both their faces lit up in pure laughter. They weren’t for press. Just for us.

He’d hired someone discreet. Kind. Someone who wouldn’t sell them.

I opened the last one a quiet shot of the two of them under a tree, her asleep on his chest, his head resting lightly against hers.

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.

Not because it hurt.

But because it was healing.

“Can I keep one in my wallet?” he asked the next day. “Or is that… too much?”

“Of course you can,” I said, handing him a small print.

He held it like it was made of gold.

That weekend, he took Isla for an overnight. My first night without her since she’d been born.

I won’t lie I paced the house like a restless cat. But Sebastian texted updates without me having to ask.

-She made me sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ six times before bed. Slightly off-key. She was not impressed.

-Porridge everywhere. Literally. Everywhere. Might burn this hoodie.

-She named a duck “Simon Sebastian Stan” today. Not sure whether to be honoured or worried.

I laughed through my tears.

The next morning, they returned both wearing matching duck-print pyjamas from the gift shop.

“She insisted,” he said, half apologising.

“I love it,” I said truthfully.

She flung herself into my arms like she’d been gone a year. “Mummy I miss you!”

I held her tightly. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Sebastian watched us, his eyes warm.

“I can’t believe how much she changes week to week,” he said. “Every new word. Every new thing she does. I don’t want to miss any of it.”

“You won’t,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”

We weren’t perfect. There were disagreements. Moments where we both got defensive, or overwhelmed. But every time, we circled back to what mattered. To her.

We never called ourselves anything. Not co-parents. Not friends. Not… more. We were still figuring that out.

But we were present. We were kind. And Isla, clever little sponge that she was, knew she was safe. She was loved.

One night, as I tucked her into bed, she pulled me close and whispered, “I love Mummy. I love Daddy. We all together.”

I kissed her forehead, my throat tight.

“Yes, baby. We’re all together.”

The morning Sebastian left for New York, Isla was still asleep.

He stood in the doorway to her room, his hand resting lightly on the frame, watching her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. A stuffed dinosaur was tucked beneath her chin. Her curls were everywhere, as usual.

“Want to wake her?” I whispered.

He shook his head slowly. “She looks too peaceful. I’ll FaceTime her when I land.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

It wasn’t like this was permanent. He was only going for two weeks. Filming some last-minute reshoots, meetings, events. All the usual chaos that had once seemed so far removed from my quiet life.

But now it was tangled up in ours.

“You packed her drawings?” I asked, handing him the rolled-up bundle Isla had insisted he take.

He smiled, tucking them carefully into the front of his carry-on. “Front and centre.”

Then he looked at me that soft look he wore lately when he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Thanks,” he said. “For trusting me with all of this. For letting me be in it. Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

I didn’t say anything. Just hugged him tightly and let go a second later than I meant to.

That evening, the FaceTime came right on time.

“ISLA!” he shouted playfully from his hotel room, his face filling the screen. “Hi, monkey!”

“Daddy!” she shrieked, practically launching herself at the phone in my hand. I steadied it with both hands as she clambered into my lap, eyes wide.

“You there?” he asked, tilting the phone to show her a small plushie she’d given him. “Look who came with me.”

“That’s Duck!” she giggled. “Duck go New York!”

“He says he misses you.”

“Where’s New York?” she asked, frowning.

Sebastian chuckled. “Very, very far away.”

“Far like Nanny’s house?”

“Even farther than Nanny’s.”

She blinked. “But why you go?”

My heart squeezed.

He smiled gently. “I had to do some work, baby. But just for a little while.”

She studied his face seriously, then looked at me. “He come back?”

I nodded. “He always comes back, love.”

Sebastian leaned in closer to the screen. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll bring you something special.”

She gasped. “A horse?”

“Maybe not a real horse.”

“A big horse?”

“A… toy horse,” he offered.

She considered that. “Okay. But pink.”

He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Each night after that, the calls became routine. She'd hold up her latest drawing, or babble about what she ate for lunch. He’d ask questions. Listen. Pull faces to make her laugh.

On the fourth night, she was quieter. Sleepier.

She leaned against me, cheek resting on my shoulder while the phone sat propped in front of us.

“Long day?” Sebastian asked.

“She ran the entire length of the park three times,” I said, adjusting the camera so he could see her properly.

“She’s training for a toddler marathon,” he joked. “I respect the hustle.”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

“Hi baby,” he said gently. “You tired?”

She nodded without lifting her head. “You come back soon?”

“Very soon.”

“Okay,” she whispered, already half-gone.

And then slowly, right there in my lap, she drifted off.

One chubby hand curled around my sleeve. The other still loosely clutching a toy she hadn't let go of all day.

I didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Sebastian watched her from the screen, his face soft, quiet.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered.

“I know,” I murmured, brushing a curl from her eyes.

We sat like that the three of us in our own little stillness for a long moment.

“I hate being away,” he said eventually. His voice cracked just slightly. “Even when I’m doing something I love. It feels like I’m missing real life.”

“She misses you,” I said. “She asks where you are every time she sees your shoes in the hall.”

His expression faltered, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.

“I miss her too. And you.”

I glanced at the screen.

He looked tired. Jet-lagged, sure, but also… something more. That specific ache of absence you only feel for the people who’ve rooted themselves in you.

“She’ll be here when you get back,” I said softly. “So will I.”

He swallowed. “Can I call tomorrow morning too? I want to say good morning before I go to set.”

“Of course.”

We both lingered, neither of us ready to hang up just yet.

Isla snored gently against my shoulder.

“Sleep well, monkey,” he whispered.

I smiled. “Night, Seb.”

“Night,” he said. “Give her an extra cuddle from me.”

“I will.”

The screen went dark.

But the space he’d made for himself in our routines, in Isla’s heart, and maybe in mine too was still very much there.

The flight tracker said he landed at 8:06 a.m.

By 9:00, Isla was in her favourite dress the one with tiny strawberries all over it pacing the hallway with Duck the plushie gripped tight in her arms.

“When Daddy home?” she asked for the fifth time.

“Soon, baby. He’s in a car on the way.”

She looked at the door with suspicion, like she didn’t quite believe me.

Then the knock.

She shrieked. “DADDY!”

I barely managed to unlock the door before she was pulling it open herself.

And there he was. Jet-lagged. Bag slung over his shoulder. A plastic bag in his hand that I could already tell contained something pink and equestrian-themed.

“Horse!” Isla gasped.

“I told you I’d bring one,” he grinned.

She leapt into his arms, and he caught her effortlessly, burying his face in her hair.

I stepped back, letting them have that moment the kind that made my chest ache and swell at the same time.

It wasn’t until later, after breakfast and playgrounds and a nap that ended with Isla drooling on his chest on the couch, that I noticed the quiet between us.

The kind that wasn’t strained. Just... full.

Full of everything we hadn’t said yet.

That night, the flat was calm.

Isla had gone down easier than usual, her little body worn out by the day’s excitement. Duck was tucked under her chin, and Sebastian had read her two bedtime stories in a voice softened by exhaustion and something deeper.

Now we sat in the lounge, two mugs of tea cooling on the coffee table, a film playing quietly in the background that neither of us was really watching.

I was curled into the corner of the sofa. Sebastian sat on the floor, his back against the opposite end, head tilted back, eyes half-closed.

“You alright?” I asked gently.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just coming back to earth a bit.”

“Busy trip?”

“Busy brain.”

I hummed. “Understandable.”

He looked over at me then. Really looked.

“You’re good with her,” he said softly. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s easy to love,” I replied.

A pause. Then...

“I think about it a lot,” he said.

“What?”

“What it would’ve been like if I’d called you back.”

I swallowed, heat creeping up the back of my neck. “Sebastian”

“No, I know. I’m not asking you to make it easier. I was a coward. I shut everything out. I can’t explain it without sounding pathetic.”

He looked down at his hands. “But every time I see her every time she says my name or shows me something she’s proud of I wonder what I missed. I wonder how I could’ve been so stupid.”

“You’re here now,” I said. “That’s what matters.”

“Is it?”

I looked at him. His expression was open, raw. Like he wasn’t asking for forgiveness, just understanding.

“She doesn’t know any different,” I said. “And she loves you. She’s never once questioned whether you belong. Kids are funny that way.”

He nodded, quiet again.

The film ended. The flat fell into silence but for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of traffic outside.

I stretched, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

“You don’t have to stay on the floor, you know,” I said, tilting my head toward the space beside me.

He hesitated, then climbed up beside me, cautious, like he wasn’t sure of the rules.

We sat close not touching, but near enough that the air felt different.

“I missed this,” he said. “Not just Isla. You.”

I looked at him carefully. “Seb...”

“I know. I’m not asking for anything,” he said quickly. “I just needed you to know.”

I nodded, heart thudding, unsure what to say.

He shifted, lying back across the sofa, head resting lightly on my thigh.

I froze.

“Okay?” he asked.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.

His breathing evened out slowly, the weight of him warm and real.

I ran my fingers gently through his hair a motion so instinctive it scared me a little.

“Sebastian?”

He hummed sleepily.

“You’re not the only one who thinks about it,” I said quietly.

He didn’t reply. Maybe he was already asleep.

But his hand found mine and held it just tightly enough to answer me.

I woke up to the sound of Isla’s giggles bright, squeaky ones that tumbled through the hallway like a soundtrack to joy itself.

I rubbed my eyes, the warmth of the morning sun pouring across the duvet. My legs were tangled in the sheets, hair sticking up in every direction. But none of that mattered because her laugh that laugh was the kind that made everything feel okay.

Then I heard his voice.

Low. Sleep-rough. Warm in a way that made my chest ache.

“Easy now, chef. We don’t want eggshells in the batter.”

“Eggie shell funny!” Isla squealed.

I sat up and blinked blearily toward the door. My flat felt different with him in it. Lighter somehow. Full.

I padded into the kitchen quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

Sebastian was standing at the counter his hair still messy from sleep. Isla sat on the counter in her little lemon pyjamas, gripping a whisk with both hands, entirely focused on the bowl in front of her.

“Morning,” I said softly.

Two heads turned.

“Mummy!” Isla chirped, bouncing slightly on the counter.

“Morning,” Sebastian echoed, smile crooking as he held up a wooden spoon. “We’re making pancakes. Or attempting to.”

“Only a few casualties so far,” I said, nodding at the flour all over the counter.

“And her,” he grinned, nodding at Isla’s cheeks, which were dusted white.

“I a pancake,” she giggled, beaming.

“You’re a beautiful pancake,” I murmured, crossing the kitchen and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sebastian handed me a mug of tea black and strong, just how I liked it without needing to ask.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised by the small detail.

“Always.”

Our eyes met for a beat too long.

Then Isla sneezed flour all over his shirt, and we both burst into laughter.

Breakfast was messy and chaotic.

Pancakes were too brown on one side, syrup was everywhere, and Isla somehow got butter in her hair.

But I couldn’t stop smiling.

Once Isla was down for her midday nap, the flat fell quiet again.

I was rinsing dishes at the sink when Sebastian came up beside me, towel in hand.

“Let me help,” he said, nudging my shoulder gently.

We worked in silence for a moment not heavy silence, but thoughtful.

Then he said, “Last night… was nice.”

I glanced at him. “Yeah. It was.”

“And this morning?”

I smiled. “Even nicer.”

He looked down at the dish in his hands. “You know, when I’m with her and you it feels easy. Like I can breathe.”

I dried my hands on the towel slowly. “It is easy,” I said. “When we’re not overthinking everything.”

“I’m trying not to,” he admitted. “But I keep wondering… is there a version of this where we figure it out? Not just co-parenting. I mean us.”

The air felt still for a moment, like the flat was listening too.

I met his eyes, steady and honest. “Seb, I don’t have the answers yet. We’re still healing. Still learning how to be… this.”

“I know. I’m not rushing it,” he said quickly. “I just want you to know I’m here. For both of you. For real.”

I nodded, heart beating in my throat.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He reached out, his pinkie brushing mine lightly. Not a grab. Just a touch.

It was enough.

Later, while Isla napped curled up like a tiny comma in her cot, I found Sebastian in the lounge, flipping through one of her picture books, eyes distant.

I sat down beside him, close but not touching.

“You okay?” I asked.

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just thinking about how much time I missed.”

“You’re making up for it now.”

He looked at me then really looked. “I don’t want to miss anything else.”

“You won’t,” I said. “As long as you keep showing up.”

“I will,” he said.

When Sebastian first mentioned going out for the day properly out, not just the local park or walking Isla in the pram before sunrise I didn’t say no.

But I didn’t say yes either.

It was a quiet evening, the three of us curled on the sofa, Isla half-asleep on my lap with her bunny clutched tightly to her chest, her curls stuck to her forehead. I watched him watching her eyes soft, protective, still amazed by her.

That look always got to me.

He reached over, gently adjusted her sock so it wouldn’t slip off, then glanced up at me.

“I was thinking,” he said, cautious. “It might be nice to take her out somewhere. Maybe Covent Garden. The street performers, bubble guys she’d love it.”

I felt my stomach twist. “You mean, in public? Like… properly public?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it’s a risk, but I’ve spoken to my publicist.”

Of course he had.

“She’s already drafted a statement,” he continued, voice low. “Said we can pre-empt the press interest. Make it clear we’re not hiding anything but also set a hard line.”

“And that line is?” I asked, not unkindly.

“No publishing Isla’s face. Full stop. Anyone who does gets hit with legal.”

I swallowed. “Will that actually work?”

“It’s been done before. She said if we post something ourselves a photo that shows we’re a family, without exposing too much most of the reputable outlets will follow suit. Anyone who doesn’t… well, that’s where the lawyers step in.”

I didn’t answer right away. I looked down at Isla. At her tiny hand curled around my hoodie string. She looked so peaceful, so safe.

“We can keep it lowkey,” he said gently. “We’ll take the buggy. Stay in busy areas. No big gestures, no hand-holding if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said quietly. “I just… I never wanted her in this world.”

“I know,” he said. “But she’s my world. And I don’t want to hide that.”

I looked up at him, and for once, I didn’t see the actor. I didn’t see the tabloid fixture, the Marvel star. I saw him the man who read bedtime stories in funny voices and cried when Isla called him Daddy for the first time.

“Okay,” I said. “But we do it our way. On our terms.”

He nodded, eyes filled with something heavy and grateful. “Always.”

The next morning, the post went up.

A candid black-and-white photo of Sebastian’s hand in mine, and Isla’s tiny hand in both of ours just our fingers, nothing more. His caption read:

Family means everything to me. Please respect the privacy of our daughter. She’s not part of this industry, and she deserves to grow up without flashbulbs in her face. Thank you for your kindness and understanding.

It was short. It was heartfelt. And it worked mostly.

His publicist followed up with media contacts, reinforcing the boundaries. Within hours, our names were trending. The comments were a chaotic mix of shock, support, and inevitable speculation. But no one knew her name. No one had a clear image of her face.

And for now, that was enough.

We stepped out just before noon.

Isla was bouncing in her buggy, chattering to her toy bunny as I clipped her hat beneath her chin. Sebastian wore a hoodie pulled low and sunglasses, and I had a cap on, hair tucked behind my ears.

It wasn’t exactly a disguise. But it helped.

As soon as we reached the heart of Covent Garden, the world buzzed around us music, smells from food stalls, children laughing, buskers drawing crowds.

Sebastian wheeled the buggy while I held Isla’s snack pouch, and for a brief stretch of time, it felt normal. Ordinary.

Until I heard it the faint click of a shutter.

Then another.

He caught my eye.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t leave my side.”

“Never,” he said without hesitation.

We sat at a little outdoor café, tucked behind a flower stall. Sebastian ordered coffee, I got tea and a fruit salad to share. Isla sat on his lap, pointing at pigeons and mimicking their noises, which made us both laugh more than we should’ve.

I saw a phone aimed at us from across the square. Not a pap, just someone who recognised him.

“Here it starts,” I murmured.

Sebastian didn’t flinch. He just leaned in, kissed Isla’s forehead, and whispered something to make her giggle.

“I can’t pretend this won’t happen,” he said quietly. “But I promise you I’ll handle it. You and Isla, you come first.”

I looked at him, at the little crinkle by his eyes, the way he held her like it was instinct.

“You already are,” I said, barely louder than the wind.

Later that afternoon, we wandered through the quieter side streets, stopping by a toy shop where Isla picked out a fabric book with animals and squeaky buttons. The clerk gave us a knowing smile but said nothing.

Just as we were heading home, I felt Isla tug on my wrist.

“More Daddy time?” she asked sleepily, blinking up at him from the buggy.

His expression melted.

“I’ll be around a lot more, sweet pea,” he promised. “As much as I can.”

She reached for him, and he scooped her up without hesitation.

I watched them, hand over my heart, unsure when this became our life.

By the time we got back home, Isla was already nodding off in her car seat, her little bunny clutched tight to her chest like it had been through battle with her.

Sebastian carried her up the stairs without a word, holding her with a gentleness that never failed to gut me a little. I trailed behind, carrying her bag and the folded buggy, trying to breathe out the tension I hadn’t realised I’d been holding all day.

The moment the front door shut behind us, the outside world slipped away like fog clearing from glass.

Seb gently laid Isla down in her cot, brushing her curls back with the edge of his finger. She stirred, mumbled something about “bubble man”, and rolled over, thumb making its way to her mouth.

I watched from the doorway, my arms crossed, still trying to settle the thrum beneath my ribs.

He looked up at me. “She’s okay.”

“Yeah,” I said, softer than I meant to. “She’s more than okay.”

He followed me back into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Well,” he muttered, “we survived.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Barely.”

There was a moment of quiet. Not awkward just… full. Charged.

I sat next to him, close enough to share a cushion but not quite touching. He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling.

“How are you doing?” he asked, voice gentle.

I hesitated. “I think I expected it to be worse. More invasive. But it wasn’t.”

“That’s the bar now?” he asked with a wry smile. “Not completely soul-crushing?”

I gave him a look. “It’s better than her face on a tabloid tomorrow morning.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

A beat.

“I meant what I said,” he added, quieter now. “About putting you two first. This wasn’t just a PR decision. I want her to grow up feeling normal, even if nothing about this setup is.”

I bit my bottom lip, chewing on it a little. “You’re doing a good job so far. She adores you.”

His eyes warmed at that, softened in a way that made my chest ache.

“She’s… she’s everything,” he murmured.

And then he turned to me.

“And so are you, you know. I know we’ve not really talked about… whatever this is. But I notice the way you look out for her. The way you still look out for me. Even after everything.”

I swallowed, feeling the tension rise again not the anxious kind, but something else. A quiet, invisible tether tightening.

“It’s not easy,” I admitted. “Letting you back in.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared,” I said, almost in a whisper. “Not just of the press. Of us. Of opening the door again when I spent so long forcing myself to close it.”

His face fell a little, but he nodded slowly. “I get that.”

“I’m not saying never,” I added, hurriedly. “Just… not yet.”

He turned fully to face me, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced together.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said simply. “Whatever pace you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made my eyes sting.

I blinked, then cleared my throat. “Come on. Let’s have something to eat. We didn’t finish lunch, thanks to the pigeon incident.”

He laughed, that real laugh, low and breathy. “She tried to share her breadstick with it. That was pretty generous.”

I stood, walking to the kitchen, and called over my shoulder, “She gets that from me.”

Dinner was leftovers reheated pasta, garlic bread, and some roasted veg that had seen better days. But we ate at the kitchen island, still in our coats, talking about nothing and everything.

He told me about a script he was reading. I told him about Isla’s obsession with the alphabet song. We laughed when he tried to mimic her little voice and failed miserably.

And after we put the dishes in the sink and dimmed the lights, we just sat there, side by side, listening to the rain tap against the windows.

“Do you think she’ll remember today?” he asked after a while.

“Maybe not the details,” I said, resting my chin in my hand. “But she’ll remember the feeling. Of being loved. Of being safe.”

He nodded, eyes distant but full.

“I’m glad it was with you,” he murmured.

I didn’t respond not with words. But I reached out, resting my hand gently on top of his.

He looked down at the touch, then up at me, and smiled. Not the movie star smile. The real one. Quiet, a little sad, a little hopeful.

[skteezcursed]

❝greedy little darlin❞ — p.sh.

PAIRING. frat!park seonghwa x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. dom!seonghwa. switch!sub!reader. university au. frat members ateez. sex talk (among adults). drinking (not too much, but just enough). pet names (mostly darling, reader is called slut once, good girl and handsome, prob more but i cant remember now). blowjob. hair pulling. cunnilingus. tongue fucking. over stimulation. sex with a condom (please remember to do that irl). light chocking. three? slaps on the ass. not proof read. i guess that's all, lmk if i forgot something.

SYNOPSIS. everyone knew you and Seonghwa were into each other, your friends even places a bet on when that would happen, although it never did. until he gets tired of your antics and decides to put you in your place.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. ~5,6k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateez frat boys (that i will still make so give me a moment) and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. shout out to @bro-atz for helping coming up with the idea for this, and to @seulrinnie-rinrin for betaing part of this. hopefully this is me leaving my slump so yeah, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

Nothing was ever simple with Seonghwa. 

Ever since the beginning, it was as if something was pulling you two closer and closer, the tension growing at each encounter. At first, everyone thought it was because you two didn’t know each other, the thing is that, after you met, the tension didn’t falter, it actually increased exponentially, to the point where your friends were making bets as to when and who would break first. 

Park Seonghwa is the type of guy that makes you question everything. Because how can a man be so drop dead gorgeous with minimum to no effort? How can he look the squishiest human being with those adorable boba eyes, but also have the devilish look on his face when his eyes became siren and the smirk in present, making you question if you should really keep that line between friends high, blocking your passage, blocking you to reach his collar and kiss him like you need oxygen, to feel his marvelous tongue in between your folds, his hair in between your fingers as he -

“Earth to (y/n), you there?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” you looked around your friends with an apologetic look before focusing on the food in front of you, sighing. “What are we talking about again?”

“Damn, you truly dozed off,” the chuckle Mingi gave, was followed by some of the others as San just turned to you with that sweet smile of his, the dimples present, a reminder he too, was holding back a laugh. 

“Since midterms are over, we were planning on having a little get together at the frat, no big party, just a few drink with friends, it’s not like any of us have time to organize it anyways,” you nodded taking another bite of your food, the movement being noticed by San who exchanged glances with the others. “So, can we count you on?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend, Sannie?” Everyone laughed as you leaned to kiss San’s cheek, apologizing. “I’ll be there, just let me know when.”

  “We are all gonna be there, by the way,” the knowing smile that Wooyoung sent your way, made you want to push his face against his plate, “in case you want to dress up.”

  “Why would I dress up to a get together with you guys?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because Hwa is gonna be there.”

“And you have a huge crush on him,” Jongho continued Yunho’s line and you could see Yeosang opening his mouth.

“And let's not forget the sexual tension there is!”

“You two should honestly just fuck already and end everyone’s suffering at this point.”

“What the fuck you guys talking about, and another word from you,” you pointed at Wooyoung who had made the last remark, “and I’ll shove your face against the plate!”

“Oh, kinky, should we let Hwa know?”

Yunho commented and all the boys bursted into laughter as all you wanted was to be buried six feet under. 

  Of course you had a crush on Seonghwa. Of course whenever you two were together there was this small flirtatious situation, and the sexual tension was definitely high whenever you two were close in a room, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“I’m sure he’ll cave in soon and fuck you,” San’s words brought you back, making you eye him slightly shocked. “What? He thinks you are hot, he even said it to us the first time you two met, but I also don’t know why he hasn't done shit.”

“Because he likes to play with his food before eating it.”

Wooyoung jumped from the table the same second he finished his sentence already running from you trying to slap him, making everyone at the table and around you seven to laugh at the situation.

“I’ll fucking end you, Jung Wooyoung!”

  You dolled up, he knew you would.

  You always did whenever you two were to meet, only to be even more irresistible in his eyes. The fact that his brother’s from the fraternity knew how badly he wanted you, didn’t help as they would always create situations for the two of you to get close. Not that neither bothered to argue. Seonghwa had tried to reason with the younger ones, but as soon as he realized you didn’t really care, even indulged whenever it happened, made him decide to test how far you were willing to go.

  As if you knew about it, you played along. 

You accepted his drinks, laughed at his jokes, shiver under his touch, lean towards him when he was close. Yet, you would also pull your own strings. You knew he wouldn’t be jealous, you noticed on the first few tries on how he simply would smile or laugh at your useless attempts at making him feel anything when you were with someone else, which was not the case when he was the one trying to make you jealous, even if unintentionally. 

So you changed your methods. From revealing clothes and trying to make him jealous, you simply decided to make yourself present, being there if needed, and flee if that was not the case, you stopped trying to get his attention, deciding to enjoy your time and maybe, just maybe, get with someone to alleviate the ache between your thighs whenever Seonghwa got too handsy with you before leaving you high and dry.

  ATZ frat was known, as any other house on the Greek Road, to be just to mess around, never to create a relationship. Although you knew Wooyoung since you were kids, you knew that to be true whenever you and the other boys would get together, even San who appeared to be the one who leans mostly towards dating, would fuck around from time to time. The odds weren’t in your favor, so you decided to brush it off, to have fun with your friends, to go to their frat from time to time, and that was when your ‘relationship’ with Seonghwa started to change. 

Both of you knew that this was never going forward. The moment you realized that, it was like something shifted in him, he started to go towards you whenever you met, regardless if it was at the frat or not. You knew that didn’t mean he was going to accept your advances, especially after you found out Hongjoong had established a rule that family and close friends from the members were off limits after a complicated situation happened a few weeks back and that you were highly aware of.

  “So, you guys actually decided to throw a low profile party, hm? That’s a first,” you comment as Seonghwa opened the door and took a step back to let you in the frat before taking your jacket off, which he quickly took it in his hands as he closed the door. “Is anyone else coming?”

  You asked, looking around, trying to see anyone, but the house looked rather empty. “I don’t know, but the main entertainment has finally arrived,” he purred against your ear, making you shiver as you smirked, keeping your composure. “Care for something to drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll have whatever you are having,” you answer quickly, trying to brush off the shiver as you follow him towards the kitchen. “Heard it was a get together with friends… Was kind of expecting more people, if I’m honest.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Seonghwa asked as he handed you a bottle of soju, clacking the bottles before bringing it to his lips, predatory eyes scanning your face. “Or are you asking to be sure you will be the only one here?”

  As he took a step closer to you, you changed the weight of your foot before bringing the soju bottle to your own lips. “No one in particular, and we both know I don't mind sharing attention.”

  Your eyes wandered across his face, lingering on his smirk before your fingers played with the necklace that hung low on his sheer shirt, the small opening where the necklace hang allowing your fingers to brush along the skin, as you noticed the smirk on Seonghwa’s lips grow slightly, his tongue poking out before you move away from him with a smirk.

  “C’mon man, a hundred!”

  “Fuck off Wooyoung, I’m not joining,” Mingi said pushing Wooyoung slightly chuckling as both their eyes landed on you, “it will be just another night and you know it, you will lose money.”

  “So why you scared of betting?” 

  Wooyoung smirked at Mingi with raised eyebrows. “What you two up to, this time?”

  “Betting if you and Hwa finally give in and fuck,” Wooyoung says bluntly making you scoff as you took another sip of your drink as you watch Seonghwa from afar talking to a few other people. “I’m betting it will, but the others are sure it’s just another night where you two keep with your cat and mouse game.”

  “He knows I’m down, it’s in his lane,” you chuckle at Wooyoung’s words as you finish your drink. “I’m getting another bottle, do you guys want it?”

  Both denied as Wooyoung continued to patronize Mingi, making you shake your head as you moved past Seonghwa, a little too close for comfort as your hand brush on his ass and you notice his eyes fall on you as you kept going to the kitchen, giving him a smirk as you open the fridge to get another bottle of soju.

  “That’s your fourth bottle,” you hear Seonghwa’s voice, seeing him eye you from the counter, the bottle on his hands half empty, “shouldn’t you slow down?”

  “Oh, is the mighty Park Seonghwa worried about me?” You smirk as you choose your bottle, opening as you eyed him. “That’s adorable, and I would actually believe it if it was a different scenario…”

  “Why do you think I’m not?” 

  His eyes followed your form as you walked towards him, his hand instinctively finding your hip pressing it lightly, as he noticed your breath hitch as the bottle met your lips. 

  “Because we are at a party, a chill one, where nothing major is gonna happen…” Your eyes followed down to his sheer shirt, nails tracing down, touching his skin and abs over the shirt as you reached his pants, fingers vagally there before it went to the hook of the pants. “And I’m getting bored.”

  His hand on your hips pressed, making you bite your lip as he took a step closer, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes studied every reaction. “So you intend to get drunk?”

  “It’s not a solution, but it’s a possibility,” you say as your body gets closer to him, the freaking magnetic relationship you had whenever you two were together. “You have pretty friends…”

  Your eyes avert for the people behind Seonghwa, who follows your eyes as it lands on some of his colleagues and friends before reaching yours with a small knowing smirk. 

  “I don’t think they are available…”

  “Funny, because some of them already engaged in a few conversations with me,” you chuckle watching him, as one of your fingers extended and touched near his crotch area lightly, “and i can’t say I’m not interested in what they have to say…”

  “Then have your fun with them, I’ll be waiting to hear about it later,” he hinted with raised eyebrows to you as his bottle reached his lips, his eyes never leaving you. 

  “Oh, so they are the kiss and tell type…” You murmur looking at his friends once more. “Might as well prepare for a performance then.”

  “You wouldn’t need to if they knew what they were doing,” his eyes burned on you, as a smirk played on his lips, his hand pulling you as it reached your lower back, pressing you against his, against the bulge in his pants. His lips brushed against your ear, “but hey, if you are gonna fake better put on a memorable show, which I’m sure you are more than capable of doing.”

  “I always do,” your voice sounded steady but your body was betraying you, as usual. “Wouldn’t be bad to not have to fake it everytime.”

  Your hands moved between your bodies as you squeezed his bulge lightly, hearing him wince. “Feeling brave today, are we?”

  “No, just needing to relieve some stress, after all, finals are finally over.”

  You brushed your lips against Seonghwa’s before squeezing his bulge once more before pushing him away with the hand that held the soju bottle as you moved past him, smirking. 

  “So this is how we are playing tonight?” Seonghwa said under his breath. “Good luck with your boy toy search.”

  He said a little louder, which you only raised your hand dismissing his comment, as his eyes lingered on your figure. The pants becoming a bother. Finals week had taken its toll on him, and just like you, he also needed a release. His eyes trailed on you as he watched you move, talk, touch and laugh at everyone's commentaries, a knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk always present as he called in one of his friends.

  As it usually happened, neither you nor Seonghwa engaged once more throughout the night as you went on and on talking to every male, choosing if you’d bring any of them back home with you. The soju bottle now empty as your eyes wander on the last choices.

  “Found them already?”

  The amusement in Seonghwa voice already told the smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe…”

  “I’ll take that as no then,” you felt him get closer to you, his front pressing on your side. “I may have someone for you, if you want.”

  “Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” your eyes quickly shot him a confused but amused look. 

  “And you seemed too bothered right now, so what is your answer?” 

  His hot breath against your neck and ear as you felt his lips touch your skin as his eyes studied you, as yours followed around the room trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, missing one as you turned to him with a smirk. Lips almost touching as you did, feeling his hand on your lower back. 

  “I guess you got my taste correctly.”

  “Darling, when I say I know you, I mean it.”

Lips quickly found your cheekbone as his hand pulled you closer to his body. You held any sound not giving him the satisfaction.

  “Cocky as always, aren’t you?” You chuckle but not move away from him, your nails scratching his abs through the shirt and subtly, as you feel them contract. “Why don’t you go get him then? I’m getting rather tired.”

  “He went upstairs though, should we go fetch him?” His eyes were siren-like, a small smirk as he took your wrist, guiding you up the stairs. The look from some of the boys from the frat only made you laugh as you shook your head. “What’s funny?”

  Seonghwa asks curiously as you reach the second floor. “Some of the boys looked at you guiding me.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckled as well, his demeanor changing a little as he kept his hand on your wrist guiding you through the rooms, reaching the one you knew to be his. “Someone spilled a drink on his shirt, he asked to borrow one of mine.”

  Your eyebrows raised, nodding still processing what was happening, as Seonghwa was a master of teasing you and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d guide you to the rooms — or his in specific — only to get you even more frustrated. Your eyes studied his features as his hand opened his room motioning for you to enter. 

   “I’m not fucking your friend in your room, Seonghwa.”

  “Who says anything on those lines, darling?” A chuckle left his lips. “Now, will you be a good girl and enter the room, or don’t you trust me to have your best interest in heart?”

  You bit your lip, noticing his gaze fall on them for a second before you motion to enter his room, eyes looking for the friend who was indeed with a shirt from Seonghwa and a stained one in hand. 

  “Oh, hello,” the boys said moving away from his phone, putting his shirt in a corner before his eyes fell on you and then Seonghwa. “Wingman, hm?”

  You shook your head at his words, noticing Seonghwa nod as you focused on the boy that took a few steps towards you. 

  “A good wingman, nonetheless,” your voice was laced with amusement as his friend reached closer with a smirk, his hand going to cup your face. “Now, shall we leave?”

  “Just give us a second, will you, darling?” Seonghwa said against your neck as you noticed both leave you, allowing you to take a breather. Of course Seonghwa would pull something like that. Few seconds later you hear footsteps and the movement of the door. “Thank you for being such a good girl, darling.”

  At that, the door closed the same second Seonghwa’s hands found yours hips pulling you against his front making you gasp, before chuckling lightly.

  “Smart, I gotta give you that.”

  “Couldn’t have made it easy for you to figure it out, could I?” 

  His lips quickly found your neck as you moved your head to the side giving him access as you arched your back, pressing your ass against his bulge. One hand found his on your hip as the other went to the back of his neck tangling on his long locks.

  “Of course, what would be the fun in that?” You chuckle before gasping as you felt him suck on the skin of your neck, as you put pressure on his nape, feeling his right hand lower towards your exposed thigh, the tips quickly wander to your inner thighs going up teasing your clothed core. “If you are just teasing this time, I swear —”

  “I’m done with your antics, darling, it’s time to put you in your place.” The whimper that left your mouth made him chuckle against your neck as he put pressure on your clothed clit making you jolt. “C’mon darling, I think we postponed this for far too long,” his hands quickly turned you to face him, one hand on your chin before going to your hair. “Why don’t we start with you on your knees?”

  You oblige letting him push you down, until your knees felt the floor, his crotch eye leveled, your mouth watering as his other hand undid his pants, the one on your head entangling with your hair as his pants fell, leaving him only in his underwear, the outline of his cock on display as you swallow hard. A light caress on your scalp was the only ‘okay’ you got before your hands quickly went to his waistband, lowering the underwear slowly. 

  His cockhead glowing with precum as you licked your lips feeling him pull your head near his pelvis, your hands pulling the rest of his underwear down as his cockhead quickly met the touch of your lips. The groan that left his lips making you smile as the pool in between your legs grew. As one hand finished pulling down his underwear, the other quickly met the base of his cock. 

  “Such a handsome face with such a pretty cock,” you said with a smile before opening your mouth, taping his tip on your tongue, feeling his fingers tighter on your head. 

  “Such a pretty filthy mouth, I wonder how it would look filled with my cum.”

  Without a warning, he pushed your head down his length, moaning as your lips and tongue made contact with his cock, your hand working on the base of the cock as the other rested on his thigh. In swift movements you started to little by little take him in your mouth, gagging lightly from time to time, before he let you breath, the spit line connecting your swollen lips to his cock only making him twitch before fucking your mouth once more. 

  “Fuck, darling, do you like when I fuck your mouth like that, hm?” One of his hands caressed your hollowed cheeks as he slowed his movements a bit, to be able to look at you. “Such a pretty little thing for me, taking me in your mouth so well like that, I wonder how your cunt feels if this is how well your mouth treats me.”

  You mumble with your mouth around his cock, making the vibration run through his body as one of your hands went up his abs under the shirt, which he quickly took it off, throwing somewhere along the pants and underwear as you started to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand on the base of his cock, sometimes joining in the movement your head was making. The sounds and cusses that went out of Seonghwa’s mouth only made you wetter by the second, if it wasn’t for your damped panties, you sure would have made a messy spot of arousal on his floor.

  At this point you tried your best to keep yourself composed, mouth open and holding yourself steady as he fucked your mouth, holding your head in place before his movements become more erratic. You could feel him twitch on your mouth the last few times, the cockhead reaching the back of your throat, your eyes watering as your nails sank onto the skin of his thigh before his release filled your mouth and throat.

  Before he could pull it out you held his base, slurping as you got the last drop of his cum in your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth, putting his tip again in your tongue. The smirk along with the groan that left him was enough to make you want to do it all over again, to have him fuck your mouth once more, but his hand was quickly on your chin pulling you up, before connecting your mouths, making both moan against your lips. 

  Your hands quickly found his half-hard member, swift movements as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. His hand kept firm on the back of your head, holding you close to his as he ravish on your mouth, while the other went to your thigh, raising your dress to the waistline before slapping it harshly, making you jolt and moan against his mouth. A smirk could be felt as he slapped your ass one more time, pulling your hair, parting your lips, before smacking it once more, a glint in his eyes as he watched your whole body tremble.

  He quickly moves you to the bed, pushing you down as his lips meet yours once more, your hands moving to his hair as one of his keeps holding your neck, the other quickly parting your legs as he pressed his knee to your clothed core, the hand holding your hips in place as you instinctively you started moving slowly as he restrain your movements from the grip on your hip making you whimper against his mouth.

  “Please, please Hwa, I need — argh!” You complain as you feel the pressure of his knee against your clit, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Please fuck me, please Hwa, I need you to —”

  “I said I’d put you in your place, not take orders from you, I’m sure you know the difference, right?” He hovered over you as he finished saying that, his hand previously on your hips going up under your dress to pinch your nipple making you whine and throw your head back onto the mattress. “I need an answer, darling,” he said once more, his lips hovering against yours as he forced you to look at him, his other hands massaging your breast as he pressured your clit once more, making you move your hips searching for friction, only making him chuckle. “Be a good girl and answer my question and you’ll get to cum, although I do like to play with my food before eating it, makes it even more delicious to watch you come undone on my tongue.”

  “Fucking hell,” you breath as you saw the smirk and watched his eyes fall to your parted lips, as the friction with his knee helped a little, but only made your insides burn with the need to have him inside you. “Yes, I-I know the difference, now ple-please touch me, please, Hwa.”

  “Looks like you know how to beg, that’s cute,” he said before both his hands found your dress, pulling it over your head, exposing the majority of your body, the only covered part being the place you wanted him the most. “Time to grant your wish, darling.”

  His lips quickly started a trail of wet open kisses down your neck, one of his hands holding your waist, the other playing with your nipple, pitching it as the other was finally met with Seonghwa’s mouth as he sucked in and played with the nipple, both with his tongue when he wouldn’t let marks over your chest. The lust in his eyes only got darker as he saw the marks embellishing your skin. 

  “Hwa, please… It hurts,” you whimper as you move your hips quickly against his leg, making him chuckle as he starts to kiss down your stomach, kneeling before you, siren eyes locked on you. “I’ve been good, now please fuck me.”

  Although you did plead, your voice carried a hint of demand that made Seonghwa arched his brows and smirked as his hands spread your legs wider. You lifted your upper body, resting it on your elbows as you wanted to see the sight of Seonghwa’s head between your legs, as you have imagined and dreamed about it so many times before, only to groan when he kissed your inner thigh, neglecting the heat coming from your clothed folds. 

  “Patience comes for those who wait, darling, and I rush for no one,” his voice was laced with lust and a hint of a challenge, making you bite your lip, knowing if you pushed his rules, he might leave you high and dry. His smirk grew as he realized you caught up with his hint. “I knew you were a good girl, a brat even, but good to know you can be easily tamed,” his lips touched your damped panties right above your clit making you jolt and curse under your breath. “Now, lay down on the bed and let me have my fun with you, okay, darling?”

  Before you could do as he said, his lips found your clothes core making you throw your head back with a moan, feeling his hands moving and pulling your panties to the side, his lips finding your sensitive clit making you jolt as he chuckled at your reaction, tip of his tongue touching your clit as he ravish on the sight of you squirming on his bed. Your hands quickly found his hair pulling it to you, which he obliged for the time being.

   As his lips enveloped and sucked your clit, his fingers that were parting your legs found your core, coming up and down your entrance, making you jolt and clench around nothing as he would never put them in too much.

  “Fuck Hwa, please please please please,” you squirmed already feeling tears fill your eyes as you looked down at him. “Fucking hell,” you said once more as your eyes met, the siren lustful eyes that you only dreamed of having between your legs before feeling his tongue play with your clit as two fingers enter you, making you throw your head back and arch your back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

  You screamed as you felt the build up in your stomach, only for him to stop completely before you feel his hands tanking off you panties before hovering over you, kissing your lips once more as his fingers played with your slit before entering you and curling inside, his thumb pressing on your clit as you moaned against Seonghwa’s lips, cussing and begging at the same time, as all you wish was to cum.

  “My fingers or mouth, darling?”

  “Both.”

  “Greedy little darling, unfortunately you can only pick one,” you open your mouth to complain but only a moan escapes as he adds another finger making you squirm under him. “Choose now, or you won't have any.”

  “Mouth.”

  You say breathlessly as he lowers himself so his lips hover over yours. “Good girl.”

  His lips are soon connected to your clit once more as his fingers leave you making you whine at the loss and clench around nothing as he quickly starts to ravish on your cunt. His tongue enters you in places you never thought it would be possible as his nose flickers on your sensitive clit making you tug on his hair as moans, curses and Soenghwa’s name leave your mouth at each strip he licks and each time his tongue enters your core. 

  “Fuck Hwa, so good, fucking god—”

  “Cum for me darling, I want you to cum on my tongue, only then I’ll fill you up, so be a good girl and listen to what I say.”

  You could barely process what he said as the build up in your stomach became too much, as you tried to push Seonghwa away as the stimulation started to become too great but he didn’t pull away, smirking at how much you squirmed because of his mouth. As heat flushed through your body making you numb, Seonghwa took his type to lick you clean watching you jolt from how sensitive you were before hovering above you once more.

  “You ready for my cock, darling?” You just nodded as you watched him smirk, going for a condom that was in his drawer, quickly putting it on before positioning himself at your entrance. “I need to hear it.”

  “I want you to fuck me senseless, Park Seonghwa.”

  “My pleasure, my darling.”

  At that he thrusts fully into you, holding your hips in place, keeping steady as he watched you, wondering if it was okay for him to move. Once you started to breathe again and your hand met his forearm as the other went for your breast, he smiled and started to move. Steady at first, watching how your facial expressions would change, playing with your body as he wanted to see what would make you tic, what would bring the sweetest sound from your mouth, but most importantly, what would make you come back to his bed. 

  “Fuck Hwa, yes, please, just like — argh fuck, YES!” 

  You couldn’t care less if someone was listening, if you had to take the walk of shame tomorrow, if this was only a one night stand, how you’d face Seonghwa once more if that was the case, none of it matter, all it mattered was how well he was rearranging your organs as his fingers sank into the flesh of your hip and he’d pull you towards him. 

  “Is my greedy little darling enjoying my cock?”

  “Yes, yes, yes fucking yes.”

   Seonghwa smiled at your words as one of his hands left your hip to find your clit, making you scream the moment he started to put pressure there, feeling you clench around him, his eyes closing as he could only think about making you cum on his cock, think about hearing you moan like that once more for him. As he felt his own orgasm coming closer, his other hand went for your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you roll your eyes back as his thumb still moved slowly on your clit as his thrusts became erratic.

  “Cum for me darling, cum on my cock like the good slut you are, yes?”

  And that was enough to push you over the edge as you screamed, arching your back as you creamed around his cock, feeling his thrusts start to slow down before his last thrust kept steady inside you as you knew he had emptied himself. His hand on your clit went to the mattress as the one on your neck found your cheeks caressing it lightly before he locked your lips together. 

  “So that just happened.”

  He chuckled at your words, making you laugh as well, before he looked at you with the boba eyes you knew so well on certain occasions. 

  “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” You nodded whining at the loss of his cock as you watched him take the condom out and toss it on the trash as he got a cloth to clean you up, surprising you a little, bringing a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Are you okay?” He asked as he carefully cleaned you up, eyeing you with concerned eyes when you hissed a little and he quickly apologized.

  “It’s okay, Hwa, don’t worry about it,” you comment, trying to get up already looking for your clothes, only to have Seonghwa hold you by the arm as your legs failed you. “I’m fine, I’ll be okay in a bit, just —”

  “Lay down,” it wasn’t a request although it sounded like it coming from his mouth, by how careful he said it. “You are not leaving this room, we will sleep and then talk about it tomorrow, unless you are uncomfortable —”

  “It’s fine I— I thought you’d want me to leave since…”

  “I’m a little cold, yes, but not that cold. I could never make a girl leave my room right after something like this, especially if that girl is you.” Your breath hitched and Seonghwa smiled at you. “Now, let’s go lay down, do you want one of my shirts to sleep on, darling?”

  You nodded, smiling at him as you sat back on the bed, as Seonghwa smiled at you handing you a shirt and boxers, which you thanked as he pulled the covers after putting shorts himself and laying next to you in bed.

  “Thank you, Seonghwa.”

  “No need to thank me,” he kissed your temple pulling you closer to him on the bed, his hands playing with your hair as he noticed you drifting to dreamland, chuckling lightly. “Goodnight, my darling.”

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡ @illusionnet ♡ @blossomnet ♡

©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[chronicdelusionistsart]

Bernard Dowd and the Art of Recontextualization

I'm what you might call a "fake Batman fan" - that is, I've only watched most of the Batman animated series', all of the live action movies, most of the animated ones, played some of the video games... so, you know, probably thousands of hours of my life in Batman related media. But not the comics! Fake fan!

Frankly, I find the comics medium the way DC and Marvel do it to be really hard to follow. There's the fact that you can't really follow an individual solo character without them getting caught up in massive crossover events that ruin their arc and pacing, there's the soap-opera-iness that encourages cheap and revolving conflicts inherent to the longform monthly release schedule, the writer roulette, and there's also just that going back to try and thread a particular continuity or character is an exercise in frustration. Oh and the retcons. Everyone hates those. They've (basically) never been good. Don't remember this part it will never come up aga

But, you know, despite this - or maybe because of this - comics is a breeding ground for ideas. Because of the quick turnaround and the demand for novel conflicts, comics just churn out idea after idea. Good ideas, bad ideas, doesn't matter. Get it to print. Retcon it later if we write ourselves into a corner. Comics are often soooooo first draft coded. This is why I personally prefer adaptations - they often reimagine ideas and retcon them into new narratives where they can serve a more coherent plot. But what happens when a character is picked up for a second draft ... without actually contradicting the earlier material? While enriching the earlier material, even?

(SPOILERS for Tim Drake: Robin and uh... 20 year old comics under the cut!)

So, uh, quick disclaimer - because I have very little overall knowledge of DC's Comics continuity, there may be more interesting examples of times that what I'm going to point out was done. But I love Bernard and from a writer's POV I'm impressed with the way they did it so we're talking about Bernard lmao

The Beginning (Robin 1993) - Reading comics from the 2000s hurts in a way I can't describe

Okay so I heard Tim Drake is dating a guy now? (Penny Sonic voice) Whoa he's bisexual I didn't know that! I'm sure people on the internet are being very normal about this. Cool let's find out more about his new bf. I like starting from the beginning... so like yeah hold on while I crack open the Robin comic and take down what this guy's deal is.

😬

So basically the TL;DR of Bernard in his original appearances is that he seems to be an attempt to introduce some normal stakes teen drama into Tim's life. He has all the Funny Guy Friend Classics - he's got an inflated sense of his proficiency at pulling girls, he's inexplicably drawn towards the protagonist (who is cooler than him), he wants to date the most popular girl in school, and he wants to get down with older women!

This might just be me but while I was going through this I thought like, he almost reads a little uncanny, like he's been filtered through a Disney Teen Special. In practice he mostly serves to introduce Tim to the Real Plot, Darla Aquista, and be one of his ties to civilian life, which is, like, fine. He's ultimately just a background character and he's so unimportant that he only has one appearance after their school gets shot up(!!!), which is, again, to be more of an accessory to the Darla plot.

After this display of "wow this guy's kind of lowkey insane for offering to his resurrected bestie supervillainess to be her manager actually", he's dropped forever. Comics! We're not gonna unpack that.

The Sequel (Batman: Urban Legends) - We're Gonna Unpack That

Until almost two decades later when he calls Tim up for a date. And while I'm trying to skim over a lot to get to the point here and I don't really know the FULL context, it is notable that Tim is in the middle of an identity crisis / the cusp of adulthood when this happens (I think he just lost a spleen or something. That sucks dude). It's pretty implicit that part of the reason he's going to see Bernard is because he's someone familiar in a time when he's facing a lot of new and scary stuff.

And at first blush, he really does seem like the same dude. The familiar arm over the shoulder, the banter, it's all very casual and similar to the ribbing from high school -

- and I guess nothing has happened to Bernard in the interim haha he's just the funny friend guy right?

I really like the way they did this. I'm just unambiguously going to praise how good this is if you just came off the 2000s stuff. Comics have kind of breakneck pacing by nature but they really manage to condense down and then pull off a neat sleight of hand over the course of like four pages here. They re-establish Bernard as a silly guy and then wham you with the fact that yeah actually we ARE gonna unpack that. Fuck you Tim Drake life is ever changing and nothing stays the same

So the TL;DR on the rest of the Urban Legends storyline is that stuff like, HAPPENED to this guy while our focus was elsewhere. He learned martial arts, presumably so that he wouldn't be so helpless in the next school shooting level event, he got into a pain cult, he's just Not Doing Well. We find out, reading between the lines, that calling Tim on a date was probably one of his last attempts to reach out to someone when the cult stuff was getting really bad.

I've heard people complain that Bernard is uninteresting or not a character or entirely focused on his relationship with Tim, and I think that criticism is really weird considering that his entire re-debut focuses on the point that he's been having his own life and making his own (often wild) decisions - ones that really changed the course of his life - while Tim was gone. And it's also notable that this story is about how the fact that he's his own person and has changed and has made the nerve-wracking decision to take action and call Tim inspires Tim himself to take a leap and fling himself into the uncertain waters of young adulthood.

Me when I have my bi awakening and call to get out of a rut simultaneously because Cute Insane Guy Inspired Me. iconic

So that's how Bernard has changed. But that's not recontextualization, that's just the writers taking a guy and making him do another, cooler thing. Well hold the fuck on because we're not goddamn done.

What did he mean by th-

The Recontextualizerrrrr (Tim Drake: Robin) - Bernard is the funniest person in Gotham City. I'll not be taking constructive criticism on this

Tim Drake: Robin is the followup to the Urban Legends story and Tim is the main character fr. Obviously. but Bernard is also a major character. Later, he even gets to be a POV character. But they don't do that for several issues, instead treating us to his shenanigans from Tim's point of view as he solves a bizarre serial murder case and like, they're cute! And neither of them are normal in the slightest. I love that for them.

Again, TL;DR, there are a lot of interactions where Bernard talks to Tim both in and out of costume, but we don't get to see his POV until they go out to a restaurant and meet Bernard's parents there by accident and Tim has to run off to do Robin stuff. And like... a lot of stuff happens in this one bois. Whammy after whammy

We're suddenly introduced explicitly to a lot that was only implied or just completely unavailable before. Bernard's parents are ragingly homophobic. Probably were never great even before that. He suffers from depression. All that is a lot to. wait. hold on a second

he knows?????

HE KNOWS????

Okay so if you stop at this point and reread the entire run so far you find out that Bernard is in fact the biggest troll in the entire universe. This is the moment that cemented him as my favourite, by the way. Like I had a feeling that he knew and I was just laughing my ass off when my suspicions were confirmed.

But this is really interesting on top of that because Bernard has been revealed to be, at this point, a guy who you should look deeper than the surface to understand. Someone who masks his true self and whose true motivations you can only uncover if you're really looking past the facade. Even with Tim, he sort of offers Tim and Robin half the story each, taking advantage of Robin's "distance" to give out information he wants Tim to think about but that he's reluctant to talk about frankly while at the same time almost daring Tim to open up about his identity.

Absolutely most normal way to tell your bf about your cult trauma. You'll always be famous to me Bernard Dowd

This is a really neat trick by the writers. It makes Bernard a multifaceted character who got to quietly develop while we were mostly focused on Tim, and there's some clever clever foreshadowing they set up in this run to achieve this. If it were just this, I would call it good writing.

But it actually goes one level deeper than that and becomes something really really special. because as we all know, Bernard was not conceived to be this way, he was a one-off guy who was kind of annoying and he was essentially retconned to be, like. Gay? Have depth? Be funny? All of those things?

The Seamless Retcon (Robin 1993 Again) - We took your guy and we gave him gay subtext and it worked astoundingly well

This is not a new observation btw, I've seen a ton of posts to this effect. But oh my god. Some of these panels really hit different with the new Bernard lore. Like holy fuck just read this back to back

There are tons of moments like this. There's SO MUCH that the revelation that Bernard is queer adds to his initially extremely underwhelming tenure in the Robin comics. A reread almost begs the question of what Bernard must have been thinking at any given moment! BRO YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO FUCK HIS STEPMOM. That's completely believable as a next-level closeting move and goes from kind of annoying to turbofunny.

Like yeah of course he's acting like a douche. His father is a status-chasing asshole and he's five racks deep in the closet. Of course he gravitates towards Tim - his gaydar is pinging and he thinks Tim is cute. And it's also pinging that Tim is like. You know

None of this would hit as hard if the writers had not set up Bernard as someone who masks so much. They worked it in that character trait to mean that you could always glean information deeper than the surface from his top level interactions.

Because of this, Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread. Like I said, that's a set of observations that are not new to me. But something that really gets to me is how seamless and intentional it is. It really feels like the writer sat down and took their time devising a guy that is believable as that other guy, but only if you read back with certain context.

The conclusion - Comics. Man.

So is this just about how Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread and that he can exist independent of Tim and all the haters are wrong. Yeah of course. 💖

But also like, I have thoroughly proven to myself that I was kinda wrong to just reject the published comics medium out of hand. I see now that there's room for the writer's roulette to hit the jackpot and that something I mistook as an outright flaw, the winding and unfocused and often improvised nature of it, can be ridden like a wave if you're skilled enough to do it. Meghan Fitzmarten is a goddamned genius.

I guess I have to read comics now. Fuck

[anyarose011]

Anya's Totally Bitchin Masterlist

"Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call"

{Angus Tully x Reader} ->The Holdovers

Summary: Being stuck at the snooty, all-boys school your father works at is NOT how you wanted to spend Christmas (especially with Angus Tully...asshole). Still, the Winter of 1970 leading into 1971 is one you will not forget. A stubborn teenager, a professor with a stick up his ass, a woman with a heart of gold, and a mini feminist who's pissed at everyone 99% of the day (yours truly)...what could go wrong?

Tropes/keywords: Academic Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Young Love, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Feel Good, CHRISTMAS, and Found Family.

Chapter 1: "Bah, Humbug!" Chapter 2: "You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham" Chapter 3: "Emotional Motion Sickness" Chapter 4: "Too Late to Turn Back Now" Chapter 5: "One More Reason to Control Myself" Chapter 6: "December Never Felt So Wrong" Chapter 7: "Christmas Time is Here" Chapter 8: "The Most 'Wonderful' Time of the Year" Chapter 9: "Dimensions" Chapter 10: "Such an Old Fashioned Word"

"The Woman at the Well"

{Aemond Targaryen x Reader} -> House of the Dragon: Season 2

Summary: You allowed men to follow you in the dark for a living. One night, a man you never expected (nor wanted) to do so did just that. Over the weeks to come, you become...more acquainted with him. Still, despite how fun it is to dance with dragon fire, one must do their best to remember the chances of being burnt.

Tropes/keywords: Strangers to Friends to Lovers to Strangers (again), Mostly Angst, Little Hurt/Comfort, Somewhat Toxic Love, This story has a happy ending (but not in the way you'd expect)

Chapter 1: "There Must Be Something in the Water" Chapter 2: "Crawling Back to You" Chapter 3: "Nursing on the Poison that Never Stung" Chapter 4: "I Would Not Change it Each Time"

"The Favourite"

{Emperor Geta x Reader x Lucius} -> Gladiator II Summary: Once a lowborn girl of Rome, now a favored slave of Emperor Geta, hope at reclaiming your life comes when the return general Acacius brings Rome to a weeks' worth of entertainment.

Tropes/keywords: Minor Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Marriage of Convenience [Lucius], Slavery/Abuse [Geta], Reader is Sansa Stark coded, Scheming, Action, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, and Reader knows how to play the game [and not at the same time].

Chapter 1: "Et tu, Brute?" Chapter 2: "Agape"

"The Pas de Deux in Parenthood"

{Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader} -> Marvel

Summary: Navigating life as a single mother isn't the easiest (especially as an ex-NYC Ballet dancer). Yet, it can't be more difficult than the life of an ex-assassin Avenger, and newly made congressman that lives across the hall from you.

Tropes/keywords: Established Relationship, Found Family, FLUFF, Feel Good (for now...?), Bucky is best dad/girl dad coded, and Sassy child apocalypse.

"How to Get to Coney Island"

"Shame Was on the Other Side"

"She Looks Like the Real Thing (She Tastes Like the Real Thing)"

"Born Too Late"

{DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader} -> The Pitt

Summary: Let’s get one thing straight, Jack Abbott is your stepfather, not your biological one. So, to get another thing straight, you had no idea that the man you went on “dates” with at a coffee shop (and may or may not have had your guts rearranged by) was both your stepfather’s best friend and your new supervisor. To add to this equation, your roommate and her on-and-off again boyfriend make their way to your job. So, to sum this whole thing up = “Everything is fine.”

Tropes/Keywords: Dad’s Best Friend, Age Gap [Reader is in her mid-late 20s], #AlexaplayDaddyIssues, Shiva Baby coded, Reader is having the worst day of her life, Reader is a social worker because my girl Kiara needed HELP, Reader also needs help though, and so does Robby, you know what EVERYONE in The Pitt needs help.

Chapter 1: "Death by a Thousand Cuts" Chapter 2: "None of This will Matter in an Hour" Chapter 3: "It Ain't Me, Babe"

[mcrdvcks]

borderline

chapter summary: When Emma Frost arrives at the mansion with a friendly land shark in tow and weaponized flirtation, Logan realizes that he has to make a move before it's too late. word count: 2.1k+ pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader notes: here is the request that inspired this! i do have to give credit to @rosenclaws and this post which finally gave me an idea/inspiration of what to write for this request. also, i have the jeff dolphin skin in marvel rivals, and he's now my home page and i giggle and smile every time i see him, he's just so cuteee warnings/tags: reader has the ability to understand animals (both what they say and what they think), fluff, jealously, emma is a flirt, jeff is a menace, title is an ariana grande song lol

“New arrival,” Jubilee called from the hallway, poking her head into the rec room. “Emma Frost. Apparently she’s moving in for a while.”

You looked up from the worn couch, still halfway through your iced coffee. “Thought she hated Charles.”

“She does. But she also hates the Sentinels more, so.” Jubilee shrugged. “Also, she brought a pet. Looks like a mutant pug mated with a pool float.”

You blinked. “A what?”

Before Jubilee could elaborate, there was a distant buzz of the front door opening, followed by a familiar voice—smooth, cool, and vaguely amused—floating down the corridor.

“Miss Frost is here,” Hank muttered as he walked past, carrying a tray of syringes for god-knows-what experiment.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead. “Guess I should go say hi.”

“Be careful,” Jubilee warned, grinning. “She’s already flirting with half the staff. Don’t make eye contact.”

You snorted but waved her off, padding barefoot through the long halls of the Xavier Mansion until the grand staircase came into view.

Emma Frost was already halfway up it, heels clicking against the polished wood. She looked exactly how you'd imagined: immaculate. Platinum hair, crisp white outfit, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. And trailing behind her was—

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Is that a landshark?”

The tiny creature at Emma’s feet made a cheerful little "mrrr!" and wobbled in your direction, tongue lolling and stubby tail wagging.

Emma halted at the landing and tilted her head. “You must be Y/N.”

You crouched to greet the landshark, practically vibrating. “Hi! Oh my god—hi! What’s your name?”

"Mrrrrr!" Finally, someone sane. Can you tell her I want snacks? Something crunchy? Preferably meat? Also, is she single?

You blinked. "Jeff?"

"That’s him," Emma replied, descending the last few steps. “You weren’t here last time I visited.”

You didn’t look up right away, too focused on scratching behind Jeff’s fin. "I would've remembered him. He’s amazing."

"He thinks you're cute," Emma said idly, and you couldn't tell if she was teasing you or translating.

Jeff burbled happily, tail thumping against the floor. I do. Also, she smells like strawberries. I like her better than Emma already.

"I'm flattered, Jeff," you said, grinning. “You’re my new favorite.”

At that moment, a familiar growl echoed from down the hallway. Logan stepped into view, stopping short at the sight of Jeff. His brow furrowed. "...What the fuck is that?"

Emma smirked. “Language, Wolverine. He’s sensitive.”

Jeff turned toward Logan and let out a squawk of disapproval. Who’s this hairy drama queen? Is he glaring at me? I'll bite his leg off. I’ll do it. You think I won’t?

You stood and placed a gentle hand on Jeff’s head. “Be nice. That’s Logan. He lives here. Mostly in the gym.”

Logan’s arms crossed. “That thing bite?”

“Only if you insult his mother,” you replied, fighting a smile. “Which... would be Emma, I guess.”

Emma sauntered forward. “Only technically. I adopted him after a very messy incident involving The Collector and a stolen shipment of sentient kelp.”

Logan just stared at her. “...You’re shittin’ me.”

Jeff waddled over to him, sniffing his boots with aggressive curiosity.

"He’s trying to determine your threat level," you explained. “And also whether you have snacks.”

Logan looked down at the creature. “...It’s starin’ at me.”

You crouched again. “Jeff, don’t be rude.”

He smells like whiskey and unresolved trauma. I like him.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Emma arched a brow. “So, Y/N. You’re the one who talks to animals.”

You nodded. “It’s my thing.”

“Well,” she said, offering a dazzling smile. “That will make sharing a room with Jeff much easier. Unless you’ve already got company?”

You blinked. “What?”

Emma’s smile deepened slightly. “A roommate. Or a boyfriend. Girlfriend. Partner. Pet possum. Just checking.”

Logan’s jaw twitched. You tried not to let your confusion show. “Uh, no. Just me.”

“Perfect.” She looked over your shoulder. “Logan, are you going to keep glowering like a 1950s gym coach, or are you going to help with my bags?”

“Not my job,” he muttered.

Emma turned back to you. “You, however, are welcome to help me unpack. Jeff likes you.”

Jeff did a happy spin. I do. Come with us. I have a sparkly rock I want to show you.

You smiled, because how could you not.

“I mean… yeah, I could help.”

Emma nodded once, her heels already clicking as she turned. “Excellent. Logan, lovely seeing you again.”

You looked back at him as you followed her and Jeff toward the stairs. His eyes were already on you, brow still furrowed. He didn’t say anything, but there was something in his gaze—confused, irritated, maybe a little betrayed.

You gave him a small wave. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.” But he wasn’t. Because he knew Emma.

He liked you. And now she did, too.

---

“Oh my God, is that a shark?” Rogue asked, gawking as Jeff waddled into the rec room where half a dozen students were huddled around the TV.

Jeff’s tail thumped. “Mrrr!” Big glowing box, loud noises—who’s winning? Can I chew the controller?

You hurried after him. “Please don’t chew anything important.”

Rogue knelt. “Sugar, that can’t be sanitary. Does it bite?”

Jeff cocked his head. Only if insulted. Or if someone’s shoes look delicious. Hers do. He nosed Rogue’s boot; she scooted back.

“Not usually,” you said. “Unless you’re a bad guy or a sneaker.”

Across the room, Bobby paused his game. “Yo, is that Emma Frost’s?”

“Technically,” you said, scooping Jeff into your arms. He wriggled like an excited pug. Higher, higher! The peasants must see me!

The door slid open and Logan strode in, gym towel around his neck. He took one look at Jeff in your arms and clamped his jaw shut.

Jeff bared a mouthful of tiny triangular teeth. “Mrrr!” Whiskey man returns. Ask if he’s brought snacks.

“He doesn't have snacks,” you murmured.

Logan’s eyebrow twitched. “You talkin’ to the oversized sardine or me?”

“Both.”

Before Logan could reply, Emma swept in, white fur-lined cape billowing. “Ah, there you are, Y/N. Jeff wandered off. Naughty boy.” She flashed Logan a too-bright smile. “Wolverine. Sweaty as ever.”

Logan grunted. “Frost.”

Emma’s attention slid back to you. “I was hoping you’d help me finish sorting my wardrobe.” She hooked her arm through yours before you could protest. “Jeff misses your… bilingual encouragement.”

Jeff licked your cheek. I also miss the strawberry smell. Can we get salmon later?

You cleared your throat. “Uh, maybe after dinner?”

Logan folded his arms. “She’s got Danger Room duty at seven.”

You blinked. “I do?”

He shrugged. “Figured you could use the practice. Kids love watchin’ you talk squirrels outta their trees.”

Emma’s smile tightened. “How considerate. Still, wardrobe triage shouldn’t take long.” She tugged you toward the hall.

Jeff wriggled smugly. She’s jealous. This is fun.

Logan’s eyes followed, dark and unreadable.

---

Pots clattered as you prepped snacks for movie night. Jeff perched on the island, nose twitching at the aroma of popcorn oil.

“Mrrr.” Butter is life. Sacrifice some for me.

“You’ll get a bowl,” you promised, sprinkling kernels.

The swing door creaked; Logan stepped in, hair damp from a shower. “Figured you’d be here.” He grabbed two root beers from the fridge, slid one across.

“Thanks.” You popped the cap. “You okay? You looked… tense earlier.”

“I’m fine.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “Frost always rubs me wrong.”

Jeff hopped down, sniffing Logan’s boot again. “Mrrrk.” He’s lying. He’s jealous. Do you like him? You should like him. He smells like pine and regret.

You cleared your throat. “Jeff says hi.”

Logan crouched, offering a rough hand. “Hey, rug-shark. We good?”

Jeff sniffed, then head-butted his palm. Acceptable. Provide jerky later.

“He approves,” you said, smiling.

Logan rose. “Listen… you free tomorrow? Thought maybe we could take the bike into town, hit that farmer’s market you like.”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Before the warmth could settle, Emma glided in, silk pajama set gleaming. “There you are, Y/N.” She draped herself against the doorway. “Jeff and I missed you.”

Logan bristled. “She’s busy.”

Emma lifted a brow. “Fetching popcorn? Hardly mission-critical.”

You opened your mouth, but Logan beat you. “She already made plans for tomorrow.”

Emma’s smile was sharp. “With you, I assume.”

Jeff’s eyes ping-ponged between them. Fight, fight, fight—winner gives me snacks.

“Yeah, with me,” Logan said.

Something in his tone made your stomach flutter. Emma noticed, lips curving. “How… adorable. Well, don’t keep her up too late. Beauty sleep, darling.” She winked at you, snapped her fingers for Jeff. “Come, baby.”

Jeff planted himself at your feet. “Mrrr!” Nah, staying. The drama’s here.

Emma’s nostril twitched, but she left.

You took a breath. “So, market tomorrow?”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “If you still want.”

“Definitely.”

Jeff spun in a circle. Road trip! Call shotgun. Also snacks.

---

Wind whipped through your hair as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket on the back of his bike. Jeff rode in a modified pet carrier strapped to the saddlebag, goggles over his eyes, tongue flapping.

“Mrrr-rr!” Faster! I am speed!

You laughed, the sound lost in the roar.

Downtown, stalls lined the street. Locals greeted Logan with wary nods, he offered grunts in return. You sampled peaches, picked wildflower honey, let Jeff taste-test jerky from a butcher who nearly fainted at the sight of him.

Logan paid for a bag of apple cider donuts, handing you one. Your fingers brushed, heat climbed your cheeks.

“You got sugar on your face,” he said, thumb grazing the corner of your mouth. Sparks skittered down your spine.

Jeff craned from the carrier, watching like a nosy little child. Kiss! Kiss!

You stepped back, flustered. “Thanks.”

Logan cleared his throat. “We should head before students blow somethin’ up.”

“Right.”

Still, neither of you moved.

“Y’know,” you started, but Logan’s phone buzzed. He cursed, glancing at the screen. “Emergency drill. We gotta run.”

Figures.

---

The drill turned out to be a minor lab fire, luckily Hank had it contained. Hours later, you escaped to the roof for quiet, legs dangling over the ledge. Jeff nestled beside you, gnawing a donut.

“Mrrr.” You okay? Broody wolf-man’s looking for you.

As if summoned, the roof hatch creaked open. Logan emerged, moonlight catching silver in his hair.

“Figured you’d be up here,” he said, settling beside you.

Jeff padded to the hatch. “Mrrr.” I’ll give you privacy. Don’t screw it up. He disappeared.

Your pulse ticked. “Everything alright?”

Logan stared out across the lawn. “Wanted to apologize. Been… actin’ weird.”

“You?” You nudged his shoulder. “Never.”

He huffed. “Just—seeing Frost hang off you got under my skin.” He hesitated. “’Cause I—damn.” A low growl of frustration. “I like you, Y/N. More than I probably should. Didn’t wanna screw up what we got, so I kept my mouth shut. Then Frost waltzes in—”

“And you thought you’d lose your window,” you finished, heart thumping.

“Pretty much.”

Silence stretched, filled by cricket chirps—but to you they were arguing about the comfiest spot of grass.

You shifted to face him. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, well. Not great with feelings.” He met your gaze, vulnerability stark in those eyes. “But I’m tryin’.”

You smiled, warmth blooming. “I like you too, Logan.”

Relief flickered across his face, chased by something softer. Slowly, he reached out, hand settling over yours. His palm was warm, calloused.

Down below, the rec room lights flicked on and Emma’s laughter floated up.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “She’s gonna keep pushin’.”

You squeezed his hand. “Let her try.”

He chuckled, thumb stroking your knuckles. “Gonna have to take you on a proper date. No drills, no landsharks.”

Jeff re-emerged, donut crumbs on his snout. “Mrrr!” Rude. I’m the best chaperone.

You laughed, tipping your head back. Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips.

“May I?” he asked, voice rough.

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Yeah.”

He leaned in, kiss gentle, tasting faintly of cider and stubbornness. Your free hand slid up his chest, steadying both of you. Below, someone wolf-whistled—probably Jubilee. Logan flipped the air a casual claw, never breaking the kiss.

Jeff clapped his fins. “Mrrrr!” Finally. Took you long enough. Now—snacks?

You broke away, breathless laughter spilling. “Deal, Jeff. Snacks for everyone.”

Logan pressed his forehead to yours. “Think we can find a place he can’t follow?”

“Doubt it,” you said, grinning. “He’s persistent.”

Jeff puffed up proudly. Damn right. Also, you still owe me salmon.

Logan groaned. “Gonna be an interesting courtship.”

You squeezed his hand again. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The three of you sat beneath the stars—wolf, landshark, and you—while below, the mansion hummed on, unaware that something quietly perfect had just begun.

definitely needed a little fluff for the awful past few days of politics

[taevescence]

can I request: Jungkook and YN laying in bed cockwarming while watching a movie and they fall asleep. Jungkook wakes up in the middle of the night and is still inside YN so he wakes her up by sucking her tits and asks her if it's ok to fuck because he is hard

thanksssss💕

5:30 A.M.

a/n: Thank you for the request! It's my first time making smut as such, so I hope it's good enough for your taste ^^. warnings: Cockwarming, Mazophilia, reader is older than Jungkook by two years, kind of dom!reader and sub!Jungkook but very mild, breeding kink, hair pulling. wc: 1.8k

"Don't you find it strange that Captain America and Iron man get along so badly? I mean, they both seek the same end, why fight each other when they should be using that strength against villains?" muttered Jungkook, trying to swallow the vulgar amount of popcorn he threw into his mouth.

"They both have the same goal, but at the same time different values, and those same values are what make their relationship so strained" you nodded, taking a sip of your drink, "You know what thing does strike me as odd?".

"What?" your boyfriend's gaze was still fixed on the TV, too focused on watching Iron man and Captain America fight.

"That you asked to be inside me while we watch Captain America: civil war," you laughed softly, turning to look at your boyfriend "Sounds like too weird of a fetish. Tell me the truth, do you have an Iron man fetish or something?".

Jungkook laughed, kissing your cheek and caressing your abdomen with his fingertips. You felt your insides stir inside you. 

 "Of course not, it's just that I really love being inside you" he murmured, kissing you shortly, "I feel so much closer to you, like we're really one person, you know what I mean?".

You nodded laughing, stroking his jaw, "Sure I do, but it's still weird that you're asking me while we're watching a Marvel movie."

"I'll pick something better next time" he chuckled, snuggling under you. He loved having you in his lap and being able to hug you from behind. "Now let's concentrate on watching Robert Downey Junior fight Chris Evans."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say" you smiled, leaning against his shoulder and watching one of your boyfriend's favorite movies.

You fell asleep shortly after watching the post-credits scene, you had a long day's work, so it was expected that you fell asleep so early. Before going to sleep you asked Jungkook to switch positions and he was quick to agree. He was aware that it was quite uncomfortable for you to sleep sitting up, and since he still didn't want to leave you, you decided to lie down hugging each other, him with his head on your chest and his hands around your waist, you, with one of your hands on his lower back and the other in his hair.

Even though you fell asleep much earlier than Jungkook had planned, he quite enjoyed watching the rest of the movies alone, mostly because it was enough for him that you were lying next to him.

He hadn't planned on disturbing your rest, indeed, he hated to do so because he knew how much the work exhausted you, but there were things he simply couldn't control, like his cock. 

If we're honest, it hadn't been his fault as such, but somehow watching Wade and Vanessa's scenes while he was still inside you awakened something inside him. And on the outside, too. 

As soon as he felt little spasms in his cock, he turned off the TV and settled back against your chest, closing his eyes and trying to think about anything other than fucking you. It worked a little at first, but then he felt the soft scent of your perfume, your breath against his scalp, the softness of your breasts against his cheek. He actually tried to resist.

He took a breath of air, remembering an old conversation the two of you had at the beginning of your relationship. You had talked about whether you were comfortable with certain things in the sexual realm, among them, having something with one of you asleep. You confessed that you didn't mind as long as you weren't fighting and he told you that he trusted you enough to know that you would take good care of him even if he was sleeping. 

You weren't fighting, so he wasn't passing you around, you said yourself that you didn't care. 

That was Jungkook repeated himself as he slipped his hand under your shirt, which was actually his, and started massaging your breasts. At first it was just small squeezes, using his whole hand to cover your breast. He licked his lips, looking at your face. You were still asleep.

The squeezes now shifted to your nipples. He rolled, pulled and pinched them, gradually increasing the force on them. He was surprised to notice that you were still sound asleep in spite of that.

He thought that was good, so this time he lifted your shirt until it was under your chin. He swallowed saliva at the sight of your breasts. He seriously loved them, they were so round, nice and big. He brought his mouth up to the point where both breasts met and began to leave little kisses on the spot. His hands were now busy caressing your hips, and his hips were grinding against yours with almost imperceptible movements. 

You were still asleep.

When he realized that you wouldn't wake up no matter what he did, he began to lick the skin around your nipples. At first it was just small rubs, but they soon turned into sloppy kisses, sucking your nipples hard as his onslaught became stronger than at first.

It was only then that you opened your eyes.

You were still a little groggy from the nap you had taken, so it took you a while to realize what was happening. You came all the way back after Jungkook hit your G-spot a little too hard.

You moaned much louder than usual, opening your eyes wide.

"Jungkook?" you gasped, clinging to his hair as you felt his cock touch your G-spot again. 

"Noona" he whispered, his voice cracking. Now that you were aroused he could afford to lunge harder. "You feel so good, you're so beautiful, so tight."

You weren't understanding the situation very well, but you weren't going to complain either. Jungkook definitely knew how to make a woman feel good.

"I thought I'd have to hold back, I didn't want to wake you up," he murmured, tightening his grip on your hips as his lunges got faster and messier, "I'm glad you woke up."

"Were you holding back?" you chuckled, groaning at the end of the sentence.

Jungkook was big, much bigger than any of your exes were, and even though you'd been together for quite a while now, you couldn't get used to his size and how well he filled you up. That, coupled with how resilient and flexible he was, made him a perfect lover. 

Even knowing that, you were still amazed by the fact that Jungkook held back most of the time just so he wouldn't hurt or tease you. It seemed so cute to you.

"Of course I do," he nodded awkwardly, closing his eyes tightly as he licked his bottom lip. He had to let go of your hips and grab hold of the back of your bed in order to continue. It felt even better now that you were awake. He loved hearing your voice. "You looked so tired, but I was so needy" he grunted as he felt you tighten around him, squeezing the backrest until his knuckles turned white, "I thought maybe, if I did it slowly you wouldn't wake up."

You hugged Jungkook's hips with your legs, while your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close until he was close enough to kiss his lips. 

You tried to make the kiss slow and deep, but Jungkook seemed so desperate. You moaned as you felt him wrap one of his arms around your waist and lift you off the bed until you felt your chest crush against his. It didn't take him long to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You both broke the kiss when you ran out of air. Jungkook wasted no time, and quickly brought his lips down to your breasts, returning his focus to your nipples and how good it felt the way you squeezed each time he sucked on them hard.

You felt close, and it really was hard not to be when Jungkook was fucking and eating your breasts like it was the last time. You pulled his hair tightly, pulling his neck closer to your mouth, nibbling and sucking every space on his skin that looked too empty.

You smiled as you heard your name leave his lips between gasps.

"Noona" he whispered, letting his head fall on your shoulder, "I need...can I...can I…?". 

"You can cum inside" you kissed his head, feeling his cock stir inside you. Each time it felt even bigger, "It's okay, don't worry."

Jungkook sighed in relief, kissing and licking the skin on your shoulder, letting his hips bump against yours.

The sound of his skin against yours was getting louder and messier, as were the moans from both of you. 

With his mind too clouded to think clearly, but still quite aware of the situation, Jungkook lowered his hand all the way down, letting his index and ring fingers rub your clit, following the same messy, rapid rhythm his onslaught had.

You clenched your jaw, keeping a loud moan from leaving your lips. Your back curved the moment his fingers touched your sensitive spot.

Suddenly everything he did felt too much for you.

"I don't think I can take much more," he said between grunts, looking at you with dark, clouded eyes.

Seeing your boyfriend's reddened, swollen, glistening lips, his big eyes shining with desire and his messy hair covering his sweaty forehead was enough of a turn-on for you to squeeze his cock even tighter.

He moaned again, but unlike you, he didn't hold it back.

"It's okay, Jungkookie," You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling on it gently, "could you cum for me?" you whispered over his lips, licking the piercing that rested in the corner of it with the tip of your tongue.

Jungkook nodded quickly, letting your pussy milk his cock, and that was enough to cause the knot you felt in your belly to untie. Jungkook didn't stop moving until the last drop of his cum was inside you.

You both took a second before coming down from your euphoria. Jungkook fixed your shirt carefully, leaving a soft kiss on your neck as he finished. 

You smiled barely, caressing his cheek with your knuckles, "Aren't you going to get out of my pussy?" you asked teasingly.

Jungkook smiled back, but his smile was much bigger than yours, "No, you feel great."

You laughed helplessly, lowering your hands to his waist so you could pinch it gently. 

"Fine, but this time don't do anything, it's..." you looked at the clock on your bedside table, raising your eyebrows as you saw the time, "You seriously woke me up at five thirty in the morning so we could fuck??"

"We better just close our eyes and rest, we'll talk about this tomorrow" he kissed you shortly, before resting his head on your breasts again and settling back to sleep.

You just rolled your eyes in amusement, hugging Jungkook and letting tiredness take power over you again.

Materlist.

[bowtiepasta]

mattsun brushes your teeth for you because your hands are too shaky after a night out.

he’s kneeling on the tiled floor in front of the toilet where you’re slouched, arms limp at your sides, mascara smudged and socks mismatched: one his (a blue crew sock with a faded marvel logo) and one yours (fuzzy white crusted with what might be salsa). 

“open your mouth,” he laughs, gentle. this is normal.

his knuckles are nicked — from volleyball, probably — and there’s still a smudge of ink on the side of his hand from the grocery list you made him write on his way out yesterday.

you do as you’re told, reluctantly. “this is humiliating,” you say, though your voice wobbles from both the hangover and the fact that your legs still feel like noodles. “I can brush my own teeth, y’know.”

“you missed your mouth twice,” he shakes his head, leaning in. the tip of his tongue pokes out while he concentrates on not jabbing your gums. “it was either this or a straw in mouthwash and hope for the best.”

you scrunch your nose. “you say it like it’s a bad idea.”

“oh yeah, totally safe. nothing screams oral hygiene like listerine chugging.”

you groan, “it’s called innovation, jackass. you wouldn’t get it. you’re-”

“a coward, yes, I remember,” he finishes for you. you kick his shin and he hisses, catching your calf in his hand and holding your ankle hostage.

he’s being too careful, taking slow little swipes like your mouth is made of tissue paper. you stare up at him through lidded eyes, and you swear the bathroom light will blind you if you don’t move, but you still don’t.

he hums after a second, “never thought I’d be brushing my roommate’s teeth at 2 AM on a sunday morning.”

“you volunteered,” you mumble through the foam.

his hoodie sleeve keeps brushing against the wet part of the sink — the one you stole out of his laundry pile and are now swimming in.

he taps your cheek lightly with the toothbrush. “because you gave me that kicked puppy look. weaponized incompetence. I’m not immune.”

you go to say something back — probably something stupid and flirty you’ll regret tomorrow — but instead you shift enough to chomp down lightly on his finger when it strays too close.

“ow,” he says, mostly surprise. he pulls his hand back and wipes it on a towel with unnecessary dramatics. “did you just bite me?”

you grin, toothpaste trailing the corner of your lip. “just checking if you’re real. or if you’re a sexy nurse I’m dreaming about in my r.e.m. sleep.”

“god, you’re annoying when you’re hungover.”

“well you’re being too nice. it’s misleading.”

something about that makes him pause. you can feel the shift in the air, even with minty spit threatening to dribble down your chin. he leans against the sink, watching you the way he does when you’re cooking with headphones on and don’t notice — like you’re something soft, fragile, important.

“I’m not nice to everyone,” he says.

the the whirr of your shared heater kicks on in the hall — the kind that always rattles, even after you both tried stuffing old clothes in the vent.

you spit, rinse. his toothbrush rests in your cup now, next to yours like it belongs there.

“I’m gonna remember this,” you say, wiping your mouth on his sleeve. “next time you leave your dishes in the sink.”

“mm,” he coos. “next time you’re too drunk to walk home, I’m gonna make you swish with baking soda and call it a spa day.”

you’re both smiling now. both too aware of how close you still are. neither of you move.

you say a quiet thanks, mattsun.

and he says, “anytime,” absolutely means it — and maybe hopes there will be a next time.

@bouqette 🥱