#while sam was... slightly concerned

[drulalovescas]

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ALMOST LOSING YOUR HUSBAND AND ALMOST LOSING YOUR BROTHER'S HUSBAND IN ONE PIC

[whimsyfinny]

Sexy F*cking Nerd

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean discovers a little secret of (Y/n)'s during a case research session he can't help but let temptation get the best of him.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, Oral (M receiving), slight angst if you squint, Dean having a glasses kink (not really a warning but not everyone wears them hahaha lucky bastards)

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 5688

A/N: It's taken a little while but here is the second competition winner from a few weeks back, the prompt provided by the wonderful @foxyjwls007 - I hope you like it!

The motel room was stuffy to say the least - that usual aroma of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener lingering around us. There was a dripping sound coming from God knows where and the AC hummed in between the concerning clinking from deep within the vents. It was crap. So crap. But it was home for a few nights; just like all the motel rooms that came before. Dean stepped past me and over the threshold, immediately slinging his duffle and jacket onto his chosen bed. He stretched his arms above his head, the grey Henley clutching his muscular abdomen and rising enough to flaunt what lay beneath. I sighed, following him in and slumping onto the bed beside his - the musty stench from the sheets enveloping me.

“Well…” Dean started, pulling Sam's laptop out of his bag and placing it on the small table by the window.

“Well…?” My voice echoed as I focused on the ceiling fan that spun off centre.

“...This is… nice?” His statement was more of a question as he looked around with raised eyebrows. I propped myself up on my elbows, flashing him a look of speculation.

“Seriously?” A moment passed before he huffed a long-held breath and slapped his large palms on his thighs.

“No of course not, this place sucks more dick than a hooker on payday.”

“You got that right,” I flopped back down onto the bed, a small dust cloud erupting under my weight. I closed my eyes and listened as Dean pulled a chair out from under the table, slumping down into it. Then there was the familiar click of the laptop opening followed by the sound of stuttered not-quite-touch-typing, presumably he was starting work on the case that we’d come here to investigate. The tap tap tap of whatever was leaking began to drill into my brain, my patience already wearing thin with the rooms dire ambiance. I pulled myself up to sitting, criss-crossing my legs on the bed and brushing whatever that dust from the bedding was off my sweater sleeves.

“When's Sam back?” I asked, watching as Dean searched the keyboard in front of him for some long lost letter.

“Uuuh, I'm not sure. He said to work this case without him.”

“Ugghhh, I bet he's having way more fun than us right now, it's not fair,” I plopped my chin into my palm and stared past the older Winchester out the window, almost willing Sam to appear and walk in like any other day.

“It's just some dumb wedding, I doubt he's having that much fun.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself, Dean breaking eye contact with the screen to throw me a raised eyebrow.

“Look,” I collected myself, “you didn't know Sam in college. He won't admit it but he was popular. Really popular. Not the total nerd you think he is. He's absolutely having fun with these people.”

“Yeah right. So who's at this wedding anyway? Why was it so important that he just had to be there?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing full well Sam had already told him all the details. Typical Dean.

“It's for a couple of friends who he and Jess were close with back then. Pretty sure the bride was prom queen in highschool or something and the groom was a trust fund jock. Either way, not my crowd,” I sighed slightly, memories from my college days flooding my mind.

Deans eyebrows twitched into a small frown, his thoughts seeming to cloud his vision for a second before he reluctantly dismissed them. I looked down into my lap for a moment, reminiscing how I always kept my distance from Sam whilst at Stanford, but he had always been that boy that would make my heart flutter when he spoke up in class or when I'd see him on the quad with his friends. I remember seeing him with his nose in a book once at my usual desk in the library, my cheeks burning when he caught me staring. Who would've thought several years down the line I'd be sat in a bottom-rung motel room with his obscenely good looking older brother researching monster lore. At least we would be researching monster lore, if it wasn't for the small growl my empty stomach had gurgled out. I couldn't stop the small pulse of embarrassment burning into my cheeks as Dean eyed me with a grin.

“Wanna get some lunch?” He asked, standing up like he already knew my answer.

“Fuck yes. I'm feeling burgers,” I shuffled to the edge of the bed and stood up, watching as Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and headed to the door, holding it open for me.

“Now you're speaking my language.”

*

The diner was almost as sad and withered as the motel room, however the food was nothing short of spectacular. I watched in awe as Dean polished off his second burger, a small glob of sauce sticking to his stubble and threatening to drip off his chin. He must've felt me watching in wonder - or perhaps disgust - as when he looked up from his plate he shot me a questioning glance.

“What?” His tone was a little defensive through the mouthful of fries he'd just shovelled in. I took a second before asking, half-genuine:

“Where do you put all of that?”

“Put what?”

“The food - where does it go? Do you have hollow legs? Two stomachs? Does it just evaporate as soon as you swallow it?”

He grinned, wiping the sauce from his face with a napkin.

“Goes straight to the abs baby. It's muscle fuel,” he leant back in his chair, stretching a little before patting his stomach to punctuate his statement. I simply rolled my eyes.

“Yeah right, you're not that muscly Dean.”

“How would you know? You've never seen me with my shirt off.”

“I know, and I plan to keep it that way.”

He feigned a pout before returning to his fries. We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, my mind absently going back to all the lore we should be trying to gather. I gripped my milkshake that had so generously been served in a thin paper cup, attempting to suck the practically solid beverage up the equally thin paper straw. Finding the nearest library would be the next task on our to-do list, despite the protesting I know I'll get from Dean.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” My train of thought was derailed at the sound of my name. The slurping of over-thickened milkshake from myself ceased.

“What's up?”

“What were you like in college?”

I eyed him with caution, wondering what part of his brain was in control right now.

“What do you wanna know?”

Catching the wariness to divulge him to such information, he smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I'm not asking to be weird, I just-” he paused, choosing his next words tactfully, “the way you described Sam as being a totally different person - some hot-shot with the perfect grades, popular friends and a girlfriend like Jess - it just got me thinking. How would Sam have described you?”

I almost spat my dairy-goop back into the straw, my brain freezing.

“Dean,” I started before planning what I was going to say, placing my cup on the table. “Sam wouldn't be able to describe me.”

My words brought a small smirk to his lips.

“You were that hot, huh?”

“What the fuck- no- I wasn't- he didn't- Sam never- ” I stopped myself before I had an aneurysm and took a deep breath.

“I was in a totally different crowd to Sam. He was always surrounded by people and, well, I barely even had a crowd.”

“Lone wolf?”

“Bingo. But definitely not the cool, collected, stoic type. Think more, invisible to the public eye, always carrying books, and borderline selective mute because of how shy I was.”

“Oh… what changed?,” Deans tone changed entirely, genuine intrigue seeming to take the wheel. I couldn't help but laugh slightly, remembering my method to forcing myself out of my bubble.

“The only job I could get was in a bar. No one else wanted the hours and I desperately needed cash. I didn't really have a choice after that,” I paused, remembering how terrified I was on my first day and grinned slightly, grateful for the extra confidence I had now because I took that leap.

“Hey, what sort of crowd do you think I would've been in?”

I snorted, looking up into his expectant eyes - almost captivated by the glistening greens.

“What am I? A BuzzFeed quiz? I have no idea Dean, you're too much of a wildcard to predict. You probably would've fit in with anyone and everyone.”

“Even you?”

For reasons unbeknownst to even myself, my breath caught in my throat. The sudden soft sincerity of his voice contradicting his usual temperament, my heart starting to flutter in my chest. If the college version of myself had met Dean back then I just know I would have been enthralled at first glance.

“I don't think you would've noticed me. You would've been surrounded by every tall, thin blonde and brunette with perfect tits. Trust me, you would've been distracted,” I smiled an almost sad smile at the thought of him simply being on university grounds and having the time of his life - knowing it was something that he was never going to get the chance to experience in this upside down life of his. Of ours. He tapped his fingers on the table for a second, likely lost in some ludicrous thought I don't think I'd want to be privy to. I attempted another slurp of my milkshake when the paper straw gave out and flopped in half, the need to leave conversation and the diner suddenly looming over me.

“Come on, let's get to the library before it closes,” I stood and pulled my oversized sweater down so it covered my ass before reaching for my backpack. Just as my fingers touched the worn fabric of the strap it was torn away, my head snapping up to Dean who flung it over one shoulder with his signature grin on his face.

“Lead the way nerd.”

I couldn't help but beam at his playfulness. I hated the fact that he made it so easy to adore him. Hated that he completely overlooked how I was his total opposite in almost every way. How when we were talking, his eyes never left mine - how he was genuinely interested in what I was like in the past. And how, when I had his attention, he didn't even notice that the hot waitress had written her number on a napkin and left it next to him.

*

The trip to the library was about as eventful as it sounded. After checking out multiple books on cursed items, local lore and popular antiques from the seventies, we loaded ourselves back into the impala, made an all-important beer run before heading back to the motel.

The small table by the window was now totally smothered by a blanket of books, maps and empty beer bottles. Deans chin rested in his palms as he stared blankly at the screen in front of him, and I must've read the last sentence of the paragraph laid before me a dozen times without it even sinking in. The obnoxious dripping and humming of ancient appliances was starting to make me feel restless.

“It has to be the boots,” Dean groaned, draining the last of his beer.

“Either the boots or the disco ball. But my money is on boots as well,” I sighed, pushing the book away from me and standing slowly, gathering the quickly accumulating litter now scattered around us.

“I'm gonna make some coffee, my brain is fried over how fucking ridiculous this case is,” I ditched the trash in the bin before filling the coffee machine, listening to it whir to life whilst I headed to my bed. I could feel Deans gaze on my back as I rummaged around my bag in search of a specific item.

“What are you looking fo-” he'd started to ask the question but his voice died in his throat when I turned around. I quickly pushed my newly adorned glasses up the bridge of my nose, already feeling the oversized frame start to slip down as I tried not to make a big deal over them.

“What?” My tone was a fraction off aggressive when I realised he was staring. He seemed to snap out of his daze, quickly rubbing the back of his neck and turning back to the laptop screen. He cleared his throat

“I uh, I didn't know you wore glasses,” I could tell from the slight tremble in his voice that his mind was reeling.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No! I mean, no, absolutely not. They look good. The glasses, I mean. The glasses look good. Not on their own, obviously. On your face. They look good on your face. You have a great fa-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter, filling it to the brim with caffeinated goodness. I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my lips at Deans fumbling, almost finding the whole ordeal a little charming. I sat back down at the table and pulled the books back towards me, also grabbing my pen and tattered notebook.

“The guests at the club mentioned hearing footsteps - so it has to be the boots, right? A disco ball wouldn't make that sound…” my voice trailed off when I realised that, even though Dean was looking at me, he wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

“Earth to Dean?”

He flinched slightly at his name, but felt no shame delving in with a completely off-topic question.

“So how long have you worn glasses?”

“I’ve always worn them,” I slid back into my chair at the table opposite him, not sure whether to laugh at the shocked expression on his face or whether to be concerned about his observation skills.

“What?! No way, I would’ve noticed,” He opened another beer and took a sip before tracing the opening to the bottle over his bottom lip.

“ I only wear them for concentration work, and I have emergency contact lenses if I know I’m going to be around a lot of people as I don’t particularly like how they look.”

Dean made a small disagreeable expression before averting his gaze from mine back to the laptop, taking another swig of his beer. I placed my coffee mug down and settled back into the book I was reading before, and after a few moments I could feel my skin begin to prickle - as though I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I glanced up, my breath immediately catching in my throat. Deans eyes found mine, burning with an intensity that made my heart hammer in my chest. I didn’t want to look away, but under his gaze I felt like I’d been stripped bare, unable to hide my insecurities from an eye that seemed to scorch through to my very core.

“Dean-”

“(Y/n), you should really have more confidence in yourself; I think the glasses look cute as fuck. You should wear them more,” a fierce blush erupted across my face when he spoke, his assured tone leaving no room for disagreement. I tried desperately not to let on that his words held any sort of impact over my decisions so I looked down, away from his scrutiny and simply said:

“Maybe I will.”

He hummed in approval, finally looking elsewhere and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief when the pressure of his stare was averted.

The evening dragged on and an hour and a half had passed since his loaded comment. I was on the third book we’d checked out of the library, now trying desperately to find the curse that would cause a pair of 1970s glam rock boots to dance for eternity and haunt anyone who tried to wear them. This case was absurd, and I could feel myself growing restless with the small amount of progress we’d made. I huffed out a sigh and leant back in my chair, the faux leather and rusted metal creaking under my weight. Pulling the hair bobble from around my wrist I scooped my hair into a bundle on the top of my head, securing it in place; the sensation of air on my neck seemed to clear some of the fog from my brain. The messy bun was comfortably enough that I could forget it was there, and I allowed myself a stretch before leaning back over the table, grasping my pen. As I began to read the next segment, I absently traced the end of the pen over my bottom lip, running it back and forth a few times before gently nibbling on the end. I heard the shuffling of Dean moving in his seat and a ragged clearing of his throat before the sound of vigorous laptop keys clicking ensued. Without looking up at him I continued reading, the pen still tapping my bottom lip, and when I neared the bottom of the paragraph, I slowly licked the pad of my index finger. My eyes never leaving the words, I turned the page swiftly with my dampened digit, the transition from one page to the next perfectly seamless. Another shuffle from the man opposite followed by a quiet groan filled the silence between us. Pen still between my teeth, I lifted only my eyes to glance at him and noted the dusting of pink across his cheeks and the furrow in his brow. Concluding that he’d had one too many beers I decided to ignore his persistent fidgeting, returning to my previous task on monotonous reading. Several sentences in and I’d almost forgotten Deans restlessness - that was until I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, deep in thought, that I earned myself a throaty groan and an exasperated sigh. I looked up just in time to watch him wipe a large hand down his face, momentarily masking his pained expression.

“Can you not do that? I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Upon asking my question I absently took the pen between my teeth again, quickly glancing down at the book to place a mental bookmark.

“That.”

“What?”

“That. That thing you do with our mouth, and the pen, and your tongue and your finger. Can you please stop before it kills me.”

The heat beneath my skin was immediate at his admission, knowing my small, absent-minded actions were playing on his mind and making it hard for him to think straight. I instinctively crossed my legs, a fluttering in my lower belly instantly dragging my mind back to the deprived things I’d imagined Dean doing to me in the depths of night. The places I’d imagined his hands travelling, the areas his lips would touch and the sensations his tongue could create. These were deeply, deeply personal fantasies, and right now as Dean looked at me with a restrained hunger, I felt like I was wearing these fantasies for the world to see. For Dean to see.

“It doesn’t help that you’ve been sat over there like a sexy fucking librarian all evening, but every time you do that anything with that mouth - shit, sweetheart you’re driving me insane.” His voice was gravelly as he looked at me with desperate eyes across the table. The overly rational part of my brain had shut down completely, and now the part of my mind that had spent hours conjuring vivid scenes of Dean Winchester ravishing me in my entirety had taken the charge. I stood slowly, taking a moment to reason with myself - unsuccessfully of course - before sinking to my knees in front of my chair. I could see Deans strong thighs were spread wide beneath the table so I crawled forwards, across the cold tiles and placed myself between his legs. Resting my palms softly on his thighs I made him flinch at the unexpected contact. He immediately scooted his chair back, allowing a gap for me to poke my head through - his hand instantly acting as a barrier between the edge of the table and my skull. I got comfortable and allowed myself a moment to gaze up at him, to take in the strained furrow in his brow and the parting of his lips. I observed the way his chest rose and fell in apprehensive breaths, and the way his free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh - like he was so desperate yet so scared to touch me.

“(Y/n)-”

“Dean,” I spoke softly, slowly running my hands up his thighs - delicate palms against rough denim, “you’re a smart boy - you know I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to do. So please, don’t say I don’t have to do this.”

Dean released a shaky breath the moment my fingers unclasped his jeans. I tugged them down slightly with his help, just enough so I could dip my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his half-hard length. The moment my skin touched his, his head lolled back and his eyes fluttered closed with a breathy moan on his lips.

“Fuck…”

I gently pulled him from his confines, coming face to face with the cock I’d literally dreamt of again and again. I took the scene in, committing to memory the sharp outline of his jaw and the way his long lashes rested on his lightly-freckled cheeks. The way that, every time he breathed in, I could see his defined muscle tone through the thin fabric of his shirt; and with every small caress that my fingers made against his length, it made his fingers twitch and teeth clench. I licked my lips before leaning in and took his tip into my mouth, not giving him a chance to finish sucking in air through his teeth before I plunged his entire length down my throat. 

“Oh FUCK.”

His hands flew to my hair, fingers gripping tight as they loosened strands from the messy bun, causing them to fall around my face. He’d lifted his head to look down at me, pupils blown as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked nothing more than enthralled. Infatuated. Entranced. I moved my head up and down, up and down, again and again to a steady rhythm, pressing my tongue to the underside of his now rock-hard cock to trace every vein and nerve-ending.

“Shit, (Y/n), I didn’t know you could suck cock, like, at all… how’re you s’fuckin’ good…” his voice was breathless as he continued to grip my hair, his head flopping to the side as pleasure started to overcome his senses. I released him with a small ‘pop’, wrapping my fingers around him and smearing the warm mixture of saliva and precum from tip to base.

“Despite everything I told you earlier, Dean, I’m not a virgin - and this certainly isn’t my first rodeo,” my voice came out more sultry than I’d expected and I could feel Dean tremble beneath my palms.

“Fuck, I wish I’d known that sooner,” I chewed on my bottom lip, quickly becoming addicted to the way he writhed at my touch. The way he moaned and gripped my hair tighter when I sucked him back into my mouth was like pure ecstasy, my insides heating up and throbbing with an ache of familiar arousal. Like a thirst that could only be satisfied by him. By tasting him, feeling him on my tongue and drinking in every sound that passed his plush parted lips. The sensation of my glasses slipping down my nose as I sped up my ministrations had me reaching to push them back up, but not before Dean beat me to it. With the rough pad of his thumb he pushed on the plastic bridge, his palm and fingers pressed to my flushed cheek in the most tender, almost heart wrenching caress. I thought my heart might stop when he tilted my face up to his; lustful eyes burning into mine with a vehemence I’d never encountered. I stopped in my tracks, all actions ceased as the spell he’d somehow put me under wouldn’t let me look away. 

“If you keep going like that darlin’ this whole thing is gonna be over before you know it,” his voice was raspy, a rawness to it from the harsh breaths and ragged moans that had been pulled from his throat. He slowly pulled his cock from my spit-slick lips and grasped it loosely, giving himself a few lazy pumps whilst his other hand never left my face. He stared down at me, taking a few moments as though he was committing the sight of me, knelt between his knees with flushed cheeks and swollen lips to memory. Once it seemed that memory was locked away in the depths of his mind, he grasped me by the arm and pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his fingers almost bruising against my skin. Immediately I felt him, in his entirety, press against me with the heat and wetness seeping through my jeans and past my panties. This time when our eyes met, there was a mutual desperation; a need to consume each other and to feel every inch of his heated skin against mine. He pulled me frantically down to him and crashed his lips against mine. 

Some people describe their first kiss with someone like butterflies in their stomach, or fireworks exploding all around them. That wasn’t at all what this was like. Kissing Dean Winchester was different - it was wild and untamed - and describing this experience in such a mundane way would be like adding water to a top-shelf whiskey. Kissing Dean Winchester was like driving the impala at one thirty with the roar of the engine drowning out the rest of the world. It was like trying to ride a wild mustang without a saddle, or daring to stand on the highest peak on Earth with nothing to tie you down. It was exhilarating in the most dangerous way imaginable - and I was now officially a thrill seeker. 

The warm taste of the beer on his tongue and the masculine scent of old leather and cologne was pulling me under. Breathing no longer mattered as long as his mouth was on mine and his fingers were in my hair, now tugging the bobble out and throwing it to the floor. As my hair tumbled free he grabbed under my thighs and stood effortlessly, moving me from his lap to the edge of the table without his lips leaving mine. I winced slightly as the corners and several books and the laptop jabbed into my rear and I fumbled to move everything aside, failing when I refused to unlock our lips. Deans patience was non-existent and with one sweep of his strong arm everything tumbled to the floor - including the laptop. I threw the remaining books from underneath me down to join them, no longer caring for their wellbeing. Before I could pull Dean back in - to allow him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to me - he hastily pulled off my boots and tugged down my jeans, throwing every item to the growing pile of chaos beside us. I discarded my sweater and top, but before I let his fingers touch my bra I wanted nothing more than to return the favour. 

“I guess you can forget about that whole ‘never seeing me shirtless’ thing, huh?” he smirked through the sexual fog, not waiting for a reply as his lips hungrily found mine again, his own top falling to the floor. 

“Shut up Winchester. Now are you gonna fuck me or wh- OH FUCK-”

Two thick fingers crept under my panties and plunged into me with zero hesitation, curling up and stroking the sensual cushion deep within my core with skillful precision. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you?” Even with my face now buried in the crook of his neck, I could hear the smirk in his voice, the tormenting tone going straight to my brain.

“Y-yes- fuck- please,” my knees twitched either side of him, squeezing at his hips with every push of his fingers. I gripped his shoulders tight, nails indenting his skin as I leant back to look at him better. Seeing the beads of sweat on his chest and brow alongside the raw, carnal desire in his eyes could have undone me there and then. He frowned in disapproval when I moved to remove my glasses, the fingers that were just inside me now wrapped forcefully around my wrist.

“What d’ya think you’re doing?” straight away I knew his growling question left no room for negotiation.

“I was just-”

“The glasses stay on.”

“To the end?”

“‘Til I say you can take them off.”

I did as I was told, moving my hand to grip the soft strands on the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over his scalp and drawing a shiver from his spine and a groan from his lungs. He pulled me against him, crushing his lips against mine one more time. He swiftly pulled away and I leant back on my hands, both of us taking a moment to drink each other in - to bask in lascivious glory. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and looked up at him through my lashes, the lenses of my glasses starting to fog around the edges. Another deep moan rumbled from his chest as his heated gaze stayed locked to mine.

“I can’t wait any longer now that you’ve looked at me like that. Fuck.”

With a large hand gripping the soft flesh of my thigh he pulled my underwear to one side and lined himself up, slowly sinking in. Blissful moans harmonised between us, the rawness of him stretching me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and my quivering thighs wrapped around him, pushing him to the hilt. He secured his large hands on the soft flesh of my hips and held me in place as he slowly withdrew. I could feel him; feel every ridge and vein drag out and then in, out and in, over my most sensitive, intimate, area. The slick sounds of our intimacy  began to echo around the room as he picked up speed, strong thighs working at a feverish pace. With every thrust he pushed against that one spot that made my legs jerk and eyes water, my arms almost giving out underneath me as the table rattled beneath my weight. With the ferocity of his pounding and the heightened sensitivity he’d curated between my legs only moments before, we both knew that neither of us would last long. The sounds of his ragged breaths and throaty moans alone had me clenching around him already, and I know my constricting muscles already had his hips stuttering as I sucked him in with every thrust.

“Fuck (Y/n)- You’re so fuckin’ tight-”

I chewed on my bottom lip as his desperate eyes met mine.

“Oh yeah? Well I feel like you’re cock is in my fucking ribcage- oh fuck-”

He slipped one hand between us, his large palm resting on my lower belly as his thumb drew fast circles around my clit. The immediate contact on my bundle of nerves had my whole body quivering, the knot of an impending climax already starting to twist tighter and tighter in the depths of my core. The way that Dean fucked me into the motel room table was something that I would be able to feel deep in my soul for the rest of my life - my body and entire nervous system having never been worked in such a feral way before. Dean dropped forward and crushed my body into his - one large strong arm wrapped around my trembling body and kept me pressed against him as his head dropped to the crook of my neck. Soft lips pressed hot kisses against my shoulder, teeth gently nibbling the soft flesh as the coil wound and wound, the wave of orgasmic bliss rising higher and higher as my mind emptied, leaving behind only one thought.

Dean.

He was all consuming - all I could see, taste and smell. All I could feel. Oh God could I feel him; driving me to the brink of pure bliss as he frantically sped up - desperate to seek his own undoing as well as my own. One… two… three more fervid thrusts and the peak he’d helped me ascend to shattered around me as I practically screamed his name, the white-hot euphoria scorching my insides as I clamped like a vice around him. 

“Oh shit- (Y/n) I can’t- fuck-”

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his mouth to mine as he came undone, spilling inside me as he worked through his own white-hot euphoria. 

The kiss we shared evolved from hot and needy to soft and wanting - the sensation of hot cum running down the inside of my thigh and cooling against my skin being the only thing to pull me away. Dean continued to lean over me for a moment, looking down at me with an expression that told me he had so much he wanted to say. Instead, he looked down at his release now starting to pool on the floor beneath us, then to the books and laptop that had been thrown across the floor before turning back to face me with the most devilish grin on his face.

“You know that this mess is all your fault, right?”

I scoffed.

“My fault? How is it my fault?”

“Because, sweetheart…” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and pushed lightly on the plastic bridge sitting on my nose.

“You put on on those fucking glasses.”

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

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[jiarkives]

can you watch my boyfriend for me?

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you do the trend where you ask your followers to watch your boyfriend.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — pretend they’re still in the tower,,, no endgame au; they’re all happy and alive 🤭 this piece is shorter i just wanted to write

~

Whenever you scroll on TikTok, you would come across videos where the user would ask their followers and viewers to watch their boyfriend for them. You find every video adorable and wholesome, so you decided to try it on your 107-year-old boyfriend, who is currently eating his breakfast alone. Perfect.

You approach your unsuspecting boyfriend with the video already rolling, then you place the phone in front of him. “Can you watch my boyfriend for me while I do my business? Thanks, you guys.” Then you’re gone before he could even get a word in.

He looks back to where you walked off before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks over to the camera with his awkward but lovable smile.

“Guess you’re all stuck with me... whoever you are.” His brows then furrow. “Wait, are you even there? I don’t know. I’ve been getting the hang of these newer technology, but... they’re tricky, you know?”

He shrugs, eating a spoonful of cereal, his eyes lighting up slightly as he turns his bowl towards the camera. “Oreos as cereals.” He snorts.

“I wonder what’s taking her so long,” he mumbles with a worried frown. “What if it’s the time of her month? She’ll tell me, right?”

But you don’t come and somewhere during the video, Steve appears with Sam as they come back from their run. The video becomes more chaotic and noisier with Steve and Sam, but they quickly leave after a few minutes and he’s alone again. And you still hasn’t come back.

As the video hit its ten minute mark, you come back with a grin, taking your phone and speaking, “Thanks, guys!”

Once the video is turned off, Bucky turns to you with his brows drawn together in concern. “Is it your time of the month?”

Bonus — comments:

User 1: he was nice didn’t try to bite 10/10 i will watch again

User 2: he brought friends over when you left is that okay???

User 3: dude!!! i babysat the avengers!!! wait til my friends hear about this

[thewulf]

Adding One || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request - Hi I love your Paul lahote stories!! I was wondering if you could do one super fluffy where the reader finds out she’s pregnant but is worried how Paul will feel because they’re still young and all the werewolf and vampire stuff is going on at the time!!🩵

A/N: I just love Paul. Thank you for the requests as always! @lunajay33

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k +

TW: Pregnancy

The warm scent of blueberry muffins filled Emily’s kitchen mingling with the faint tang of sea air drifting in through the open window. You were slouched in one of the chairs at her table with your cheek resting in your palm as you watched her move about the kitchen. The quiet hum of her voice as she talked about Sam and the pack was comforting, but it was hard to focus. Your stomach rolled again. That new unease building in the back of your mind.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Emily commented. Her voice cutting through the fog of your thoughts. She glanced at you over her shoulder, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on your face. “Are you feeling okay?”

You forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a stressful few weeks, you know? All the patrols, Jacob imprinting on… that situation. It’s a lot.” You tried brushing her off.

Emily turned back to her muffins, humming as she pulled them from the oven and set them on the counter. “That’s true. It’s been hard on everyone.” She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked gently not wanting to push too hard.

Your smile faltered. “Of course. What else would it be?”

Emily walked over and sat across from you. Her expression calm but concerned. “Well, you’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve barely eaten today. You won’t even touch my muffins like you always do. I also saw you push your plate away last week at dinner too.” She tilted her head, her tone as light as she could make it. “And I saw you make a face when I started the coffee earlier. You used to love coffee… I haven’t seen you drink a cup in weeks now.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to brush her off with a laugh. “I’m just… off, that’s all. It’s probably just stress or maybe a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.” That unease grew in the pit of your stomach though.

She didn’t drop it. “Maybe,” she said slowly. Her dark eyes studying you. “But… have you thought it might be something else?”

You blinked at her, frowning. “Something else? Like what?”

She hesitated before she reached across the table to rest her hand on yours. “I don’t want to assume anything, but… you and Paul are together all the time. Could there be… another reason why you’re feeling this way?”

Her words hit you like a freight train and you immediately shook your head. Your voice pitching higher than you intended. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way, Emily. We’re careful! I mean, mostly. But… no. That’s impossible.”

Emily gave you a patient look but didn’t pull her hand away. “I know you’re careful,” she said gently. “But accidents happen. When was the last time you had your period?” She asked the dreaded question… when was it?

The question made your heart lurch, and you froze. “I…” shit, you didn’t know, “I don’t know,” you stammered. “It’s been… I mean, I’m not great at keeping track, but…” Your voice trailed off as your mind began counting backward. The realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water on a freezing winter day. Your chest tightened. Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

Emily leaned forward slightly. Her voice soft but steady. “How long has it been?”

You swallowed hard while staring at her as the truth sank in. “I.... A month? Maybe more?” You guessed as you kept counting further back. No, it was more than a month now. It’d been nearly six weeks.

Emily’s expression didn’t change though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It might not be what you think,” she said carefully. “But maybe… maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, and you instinctively shook your head again. “I can’t. What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? What’s Paul going to say? What about the pack or my parents? Shit! My parents Em!” Your voice cracked, panic bubbling up as the possibility became more real. Pregnant. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant. No, it was just stress. You’d been so stressed lately. Periods were often late when stress was abundant. Yeah, just stress.

Emily squeezed your hand. Her calm presence grounding you. “If it’s positive, you’ll figure it out like you always do. You’re not alone in this, okay? You have me. You have Paul. And you have the while pack. Whatever happens, we’ll all be here for you.” Her voice was low and soothing as it always was. Her reassurance should have been comforting, but your thoughts were spiraling. The only thing you could focus on was the quiet truth settling into the back of your mind. You might really be pregnant. She stood with you still trying to process what was likely true.

Emily slipped out the door after giving you a reassuring smile. Her keys jingling as she walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she’d said. “And don’t even think about panicking while I’m gone. Just breathe. I’m going to go buy one from the pharmacy. It won’t be a big deal if someone sees me buying one.” Easier said than done.

You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch with your knee bouncing restlessly as the minutes ticked by. Emily was right. If anyone saw her buying a pregnancy test, they wouldn’t think twice about it. She and Sam were married, in their twenties, and settled. But you? At nineteen, unmarried, and still figuring out your life, the very idea of people finding out sent a wave of nausea through you.

When Emily returned, she came through the door with the same calm efficiency as before. She held a small paper bag like it contained something perfectly ordinary. She set it down on the table while brushing the rain from her hair as she gave you a steady look. “Alright,” she said. Her tone light but firm. “No one saw me. Not that it would’ve mattered. But I figured you’d want to hear that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Thank God. I’d die right here if word got back to my mom. Or the whole reservation.” You peeked through your fingers, your voice dropping to a mutter. “This place is like a fishbowl.”

Emily laughed softly and slid the bag toward you. “Relax. It’s done. Now, the next part is up to you.”

You stared at the bag. Your palms suddenly very disgustingly sweaty. Your heart hammered as you reached out and pulled the slim box from inside, the pink lettering glaring up at you like a warning. “I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy after-school specials,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you tried to make light of the situation.

Emily gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not. You’re just figuring out what’s next. Go on. I’ll wait here.” With a long breath you stood and made your way to the bathroom, the box clutched tightly in your hands. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the little plastic stick on the counter, its blank screen taunting you.

When your phone buzzed with the timer you’d set, your stomach flipped. You stood slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up the test. Two pink lines.

Positive.

Your knees felt weak as you gripped the counter for support as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. A strange mix of fear, joy, and uncertainty swirled in your chest, leaving you utterly breathless. You stared at the test for a long moment trying to process what it meant. Your hand drifted to your abdomen as you gulped.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Emily was waiting on the couch. Her face was soft as ever with understanding. She looked up as you stepped into the room, the test still clutched in your hand. “Well?” she asked gently. Her brown eyes searching your face for any sign of what it said.

You held up the test. Your mouth dry. “I guess I’m pregnant,” you said with your voice unsteady. Then in a weak attempt to lighten the mood you added with a shaky laugh, “Stealing Bella’s thunder, huh?” Bella’s pregnancy had been the talk of the pack ever since the group found out what she was carrying. Then the vampire human baby decided to make its appearance after only 28 days. The thought sent a shiver down your spine as you thought of what carrying a werewolf baby would entail.

Emily blinked, then burst into laughter. Her head tilting back as she shook her head. “Oh, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Paul so much. You’re picking up his sense of humor.” She grinned as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Despite your spinning thoughts her laughter pulled a smile from you. She wrapped you in a warm, steady hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, her voice firm. “Paul loves you so much. More than I ever thought he’d be capable of. You’re not doing this alone.” You clung to her words like a lifeline as tears brimmed in your eyes. You weren’t sad… no, not at all. You were simply overwhelmed as this had not been in your plans. You were going to get married to Paul in a few years and maybe have some kid’s years after that. Not now. But life had a funny way of throwing you completely off. First, being imprinted to a damned werewolf. Now this.

You sat at the kitchen table with the pregnancy test still in your hand. Emily had made you a cup of tea. The warm mug sitting untouched in front of you as your thoughts spiraled. You’d stared at the little pink lines so long now that they were practically burned into your vision. A constant reminder of the new, terrifying reality that had just taken shape.

Emily leaned against the counter, watching you with a mixture of patience and quiet concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

You let out a shaky breath, placing the test down on the table so gently as if it might explode. “Everything,” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… Paul and I are nineteen. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. What if he’s not ready for this? What if he feels… trapped?” The thought made your stomach churn. You couldn’t shake the image of his face falling when you told him.

Emily frowned, stepping closer and taking the chair across from you. “Yes, you both are young, but you know he’s devoted to you. He’d run through fire for you without thinking twice. That’s the bond. It’s unshakable.”

You nodded slowly, but her reassurance only soothed one layer of your anxiety. “But what about my parents?” you asked. Your voice cracking yet again. “If they find out, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. They’ll say I’m ruining my life. That we’re not ready. And Paul’s parents… What if they think I’m irresponsible or… God forbid, trying to trap him or something?”

Emily shook her head firmly. “No one who knows you would think that. You and Paul have been through so much already and you’ve come out stronger every time. His parents will see that. His parents love you. And as for your parents…” She gave you a small, wry smile. “They’ll probably be shocked at first. Maybe even upset. But they’ll come around. They always do.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing your temples. “It’s not just them. It’s the pack, too. What are they going to think? There’s so much going on right now. Jacob imprinting on a half-vampire baby, the Cullen drama, all of it. This is the worst time for this to happen. What if they see it as a distraction? What if they resent me for pulling Paul’s attention away?”

Emily reached out grabbing for your hand. “First of all, no one in that pack would resent you. You know how they are. They’re family, even if they don’t always show it the right way. And second, you’re not pulling Paul’s attention away. If anything, this will give him more to fight for. Plus, I think they all like you more than Paul anyway.” She added with a mischievous grin.

Your chest tightened at her words. A mix of hope and fear swirling inside you. “But what if I’m not enough?” you whispered. “What if I can’t handle this? What if I ruin everything?”

Emily’s grip on your hand tightened. Her scarred fingers warm and steady. “You’re more than enough,” she said firmly. “You’re strong and you have so many people who love and adore you. You’re not doing this alone. Paul’s going to be over the moon, you’ll see. And the pack? They’ll probably throw a barbecue to celebrate.”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling in your chest that last comment drew a weak laugh from you. “Yeah, and Embry will probably make a joke about Paul being the first one to ‘start a litter,’” you muttered.

Emily grinned. “Probably. But you’ve got to admit, they’d all step up to make sure you and that baby are safe. It’s what they do.”

You took a shaky sip of tea. The warmth grounding you for a moment. Deep down you knew Emily was right. But the thought of telling Paul, and everyone else, still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” you murmured while staring down at your tea. “I just hope you’re right.”

Emily smiled softly, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’m always right,” she teased. Her voice light. “Now, let’s figure out how you’re going to tell Paul. You’ve got this.”

Just as you were going to ask her how in the hell you’d drop this bomb on him the front door opened loudly, followed by the familiar sound of Paul’s laugh, low and warm, rolling through the house. “We’re back!” Quil called out, clearly in a good mood. Jared muttered something about food and within seconds all three of them were in the kitchen rummaging around for snacks.

You sat frozen at the kitchen table gripping your mug of now-cold tea. Your eyes were glued to the wall like it might have answers to the mess of thoughts tangling in your head. Emily shot you a look that practically screamed, you better handle this soon, before helping the hungry wolves to whatever snack she deemed acceptable.

“Hey,” Paul’s voice broke through the fog. You looked up just as he walked over to you. His usual easy grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked. Your voice faltering slightly as you tried to sound normal.

“The one that says you’re either about to cry or punch someone.” He tilted his head. His grin returning. “Hopefully not me.”

You forced a laugh but it came out weak and shaky. “I’m fine. Just tired. You know, the usual.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. His sharp instincts both as a wolf and your imprint meant there was no hiding anything from him for long. “Uh-huh. Sure babe. You’re totally not being weird. Not at all.” He teased lightly.

“I am not!” you shot back too quickly. His brows shot up.

“Okay…” He dragged the word out, standing and looking toward the kitchen where Quil and Jared were now arguing over a loaf of bread. Paul glanced back at you. His concern deepening. “Wanna take a walk? Fresh air might feel good.”

You hesitated. Your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t do this here. Not with Jared and Quil’s supernatural hearing and Emily’s knowing looks. “Yeah,” you muttered finally, standing abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Paul smiled softly and walked behind you as you made your way out of the house. He grabbed his jacket and followed you out the door. The crisp air hit your skin, grounding you slightly as you led him down the gravel path toward the edge of the forest. Paul stayed quiet. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he matched your pace. He didn’t push but you could feel his eyes on you. His quiet presence making your nerves churn even more.

When you finally stopped, he turned to face you. His expression soft but cautious. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back against a tree. His arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting… off since we got back. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you better than that love.”

You fidgeted. Your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater as you avoided his gaze. Your stomach was in knots and the words felt stuck in your throat. “Paul, I… I need to tell you something,” you started. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his tone steady but laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a strange almost choking sound which made his eyes widen. “Are you okay? It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” he said while stepping closer.

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly yet again. Your voice pitching higher than you wanted. “It’s just… this is… ugh!” You threw your hands up while pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “You’re going to freak out.”

Paul blinked slowly. His brows knitting together as a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up before babe. What’s going on?” You just had to tell him. Just do it.

You stopped pacing. Your chest tightening as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paul’s face went blank, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you. You felt the blood drain from your face. The panic rising as his lack of reaction stretched on. “Paul?” you whispered. Your voice trembling. “Say something. Please, say something.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You’re serious?” he asked in a silky soft voice like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

You nodded. Your throat tight. “Yeah. I just found out today. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even sure how I should tell you, because I know we’re young, and everything’s crazy right now, and…”

“Shh,” he said cutting you off gently. He stepped forward completely closing the distance between you. His hands finding your arms as he looked down at you. Those chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “You’re pregnant? We’re… having a baby? Our baby?”

Your heart pounded as you nodded again with tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah.”

A slow grin spread across his face. It started small but grew until it lit up his whole expression. He laughed softly almost in disbelief and suddenly pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe. “You’re serious?” he asked again. His voice muffled against your hair. “We’re having a baby?”

You let out a watery laugh. Your hands clutching at his jacket. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.” You said softly.

Paul pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I can’t even…” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “This is crazy, but it’s… it’s amazing. I’m so happy right now,” He grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “We’re having a baby!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not scared? Or mad?”

“Of course, I’m scared,” he admitted. His hands moving to cradle your face. “But I’m not mad. Never. You’re my world, and now… now we’re building something together. How could I be anything but happy about that?”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch. “Well, I’m glad one of us is confident. Because I was ready to fake my death and disappear into the woods.”

Paul laughed before kissing your forehead softly. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, babe. And this kid? They’re going to have the best damn parents in the world.” His hand ran over your abdomen gently.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you rested your forehead against his neck. “I hope you’re ready to break the news to the pack, though. I can already hear Embry’s jokes.”

Paul’s grin only widened. A glimmer of excitement sparking in his eyes. “We’ve got to tell them.”

Your stomach dropped, and you blinked at him. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said. His voice filled with conviction. “Why wouldn’t we? This is huge! It’s amazing! They’re going to be so happy for us.”

“Paul,” you said slowly while trying to reel him back in. “We just found out. Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, let it sink in first? Maybe figure out how we’re going to explain this before we say anything?”

But Paul shook his head. His hands framing your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s nothing to explain, babe. This is good news. They’re family. They’ll support us no matter what. And if anyone has anything negative to say…” His voice dropped slightly. A spark of protectiveness flaring in his tone. “They’ll have to deal with me. But they’re going to be so excited love. So damn excited.”

You hesitated. Your doubts lingering. “It’s not that simple, Paul. What if they think it’s irresponsible? Or too soon?”

He took your hands, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Look, I know things are messy right now. The timing might not be perfect. But then again, when is it ever? What matters is that this is ours. You, me, and this baby. We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” His voice softened and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “I want to celebrate that with the people who care the most about us.”

His sincerity broke through your defenses, and you sighed, nodding reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” he said. His smile warm and full of pride. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not want to shout it from the rooftops?”

A small laugh slipped out despite yourself. You shook your head at his antics. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re the one dealing with the fallout.”

Paul chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. Now, let’s go tell them.”

As he led you back toward the house, his excitement practically radiating off him, you still felt a twinge of nerves. But the way he held your hand, so steady and unshakable, made you believe that somehow everything would work out.

The moment you and Paul stepped back into the house. Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you. Her lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. Her gaze lingered on Paul who was still vibrating with energy like he could barely contain himself. She exhaled softly, relief washing over her face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked you, her voice low enough that only you and Paul could hear.

“Of course, I know,” Paul cut in with his grin so wide it was practically smug. “You really think she could keep something like this from me?” His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His hand warm against your side as he glanced down at you. “She tried, though. Gotta give her credit.”

Emily’s smile grew. She stepped closer to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad you told him,” she said simply. Her calm steadiness grounded you in a way nothing else could.

Jared and Quil, however, were still oblivious. Quil frowned at Paul. His sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. “What’s up with you? You look like you just hit the jackpot.”

“Yeah,” Jared added, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got that weird, smug thing going on. Like you know something we don’t.”

Paul smirked, his fingers flexing slightly on your waist. “Maybe I do.”

Quil rolled his eyes. “You gonna share with the class, or…?”

Paul leaned against the back of the couch looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t wanna repeat myself.”

Jared groaned. “Dude, seriously? You’re such a…”

“Later,” Paul interrupted. His grin growing wider. Jared muttered something under his breath, but Paul didn’t seem to care. His attention stayed on you. His thumb brushing absently along your hip.

By the time Sam and the rest of the pack arrived the room was buzzing with conversation. The pack had settled in, tired but loud as usual, filling the space with their usual chaos. You could feel your nerves creeping back but Paul’s steady presence beside you kept them at bay.

Once the noise quieted enough for him to speak, Paul cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward him. The sudden intensity of his expression silencing even Quil’s usual chatter.

Emily, sipping her tea, shot Paul a look. Silently daring him to be subtle. But Paul being Paul had no plans for subtlety. He straightened while crossing his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. “Me and Y/N… we’re not just us anymore. We’re adding one.”

The room went silent. All eyes turning toward him. Jared frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Quil looked at you both, confused. “Wait. Did you get a dog? Please tell me it’s a dog.”

Paul smirked, clearly reveling in the suspense. “Nope. Not a dog.”

Embry tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “A cat? Fish? What?”

Paul chuckled, dragging it out just a little longer. “Think bigger.”

Quil’s eyes narrowed and then he gasped. His mouth dropping open. “Oh my God! You’re moving?! Are you leaving the rez?”

Paul groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “No! Not moving, not a pet, not a damn secret stash of food.” He glanced at you. His grin softening slightly and nodded like it was your moment to take over.

And you couldn’t help it. With all their clueless guesses and Paul’s smug antics a laugh bubbled out of you, warm and uncontrollable. Everyone froze, watching you with the most curious eyes and through your laughter, you managed to blurt, “We’re having a baby!”

The room went completely still for a beat, Jared’s apple frozen mid-air as his jaw dropped. Quil looked between you and Paul. His face blank before he finally sputtered, “Wait… like an actual baby?” Even Sam looked a little shell shocked at that news.

“Yes, Quil,” Paul said dryly though his grin betrayed his pride. “An actual baby. Our baby.”

Jared blinked rapidly then burst out laughing, slapping the counter. “Holy shit. You’re serious? Paul Lahote’s gonna be a dad?”

Quil let out a strangled laugh while running a hand through his hair. “Wow. This poor kid’s gonna have your temper, huh? Better hope they get your patience.” He looked at you with a knowing grin.

Sam, who had entered the room halfway through the chaos, finally stepped forward. His expression calm but full of warmth. “That’s great news,” he said simply while clapping Paul on the shoulder before looking at you. “You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

The pack didn’t hold back after that. Quil and Jared immediately started throwing out ridiculous suggestions for baby names while Embry vowed to make the baby a tiny wolf plushie as a first gift. The teasing was relentless, but it was full of love. It was clear that they were genuinely happy for you both. Your earlier nerves vanishing in an instant at their exuberance.

Hours later when the house had quieted and everyone had left, you and Paul found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. You curled up against his side. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped securely around you.

“You know,” you murmured, smiling faintly, “your announcement was terrible.”

Paul laughed. The sound rumbling through his chest. “Terrible? That was brilliant.”

“You had everyone thinking we got a dog,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I think Quil’s still processing.”

Paul smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, I had to keep them guessing. Besides, you’re the one who cracked under pressure.”

You rolled your eyes but the warmth in his gaze softened your retort. His hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently as he whispered, “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your voice steady. “We are.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice low and full of quiet conviction. “It’s gonna be perfect. You, me, and our little one. We’ve got this.”

Paul’s lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, grounding you for a fleeting moment. His hand, warm and steady on your stomach, reminded you of the little life you’d just announced to the pack. But the moment his forehead rested against yours the weight of what was coming next crept back in.

Your parents. His parents.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded. “Paul,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “How are we going to tell them? My mom is going to flip, and not in a good way. And your mom…”

“Hey,” Paul interrupted softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but the steady warmth in his eyes drew you in. His grin was softer now, tempered with something deeper. “We’ll tell them the same way we told the pack, together. And if your mom flips, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle all of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve met my mom,” you whispered. Your voice wavering as you tried to find humor in the situation. “She’s going to think this is reckless. She’ll probably yell. A lot.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he tipped your chin up with his knuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then let her yell. I’ll stand there and take it because, at the end of the day, none of that matters. What matters is us and this baby.”

You swallowed hard trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over. “But what if it’s too much? What if they think we’re too young, or not ready, or…”

Paul’s grip on you tightened slightly. His voice cutting through your spiral. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow,” he said. His tone firm but laced with tenderness. “If that’s what it takes to make them see how serious I am, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll do it tonight if you want.”

Your breath caught as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I love you. I love this baby. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my family now. You’ve always been my family and nothing, not your mom, not mine, not anyone, is going to change that.”

The conviction in his voice broke something loose in your chest. The fear and doubt unraveling as his words sank in. You let out a shaky laugh with tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just solve everything by offering to marry me, you know.”

Paul smirked, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but it’s a pretty damn good start, isn’t it?”

You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned into him, letting his steady warmth anchor you. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmured more to yourself than him.

“We already are,” he said, his voice low and sure. “One step at a time. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You know that love.”

As his arms tightened around you, you felt it, the certainty he carried, the unwavering belief that you could face anything together. It didn’t erase all your fears, but it made them feel a little smaller, a little more manageable.

And for now, and forever that would be enough.

Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works, please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @nqobil3

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some guy finds Red Hood annoying.

Masterpost

All Danny wanted was one peaceful day. That was all. What does he get instead? A 6’ foot, jacked, vigilante crime lord. (Anti-hero, is that what he is? Danny wasn’t sure.) Now Danny’s not gonna say that a tall, built, hot as hell morally gray bad guy isn’t always unwelcome. It was just this one. (Unless, apparently, you’re Jazz. “Seriously?” “Look I don’t need saving but if he wants to come to my rescue, who am I to complain.”) They have gotten into many fights since Danny first moved to Gotham. ( He had chosen to live in a crime alley despite being able to afford slightly better. The money from his college fund was dumped entirely into said school and the money he earned went to bills and groceries.) Said screaming matches weren't even really fights; they were closer to the squabbles he’d get into with Jazz as an annoying way to express concern for each other. (A habit they, unfortunately, learned from their parents.) So having these types of arguments with said morally gray crime lord had Danny wondering if it was too late to cancel Jazz’s flight. (She boarded an hour ago.) He didn’t want them meeting, actually he’d like to keep her as far away as possible.

That’s why it was really inconvenient for these guys to kidnap him today. He had to get his sister from the airport and now he had to deal with Red Hood? Really? Other than Dickwing, Red Hood was the last person Danny wanted to see in a kidnapping situation. At least the others didn't make him feel like he was disappointing them. Only Jazz was allowed to make him feel the sting of disappointment at being reckless (and occasionally Sam and Tucker). Now, Danny thought he had decent common sense (“Shut up, Jazz.”), but he would gladly admit that he didn’t have Gotham common sense. He wasn’t afraid to go out at night just because the Riddler got out of Arkham. Honestly, he didn't see why he had to be afraid given any time of day. Danny was pretty sure he was basically immortal. (“Immortality is not dying and coming back as a full ghost.” “Then what would you call it, Jazz!?”) This seemed to frustrate Red Hood to no end as Danny lived in his part of the city and Danny was prone to finding trouble. (It actually seems to find him, Danny’s not actively going out and looking for it. He’s just trying to get on with his life.)

Anyway, yeah, Jazz was flying in for the weekend and somebody had kidnapped him. A perfectly normal Thursday. So, in perfectly normal Thursday fashion, Spoiler and Red Hood had swooped in while Danny was in the midst of a really intense staring contest with the kidnapper across from him. (“You know the staring is flattering when Tim does it but you make me feel icky.” The man didn't move and his hard stare barely wavered. “Alright, but I warn you I’m really good at this game.”) A flash of purple and the goon was no longer standing. Red Hood had come in guns blazing and made quick work of the other two kidnappers as Danny waited patiently to be untied. He could have phased through the chains he was hanging by but he didn't see a reason to. Just because they knew he could turn invisible didn’t mean they needed to know about everything else. (“That’s gaslighting, Danny.” “Technically, Sam, I think it’s lying by omission.” “Tucker.” “Right, not helping.”)

“Sooo,” Spoiler sang once Danny was free. “Who’s Tim?” You know what? Maybe it was Spoiler he should have been dreading. Red Hood made his way over, “yeah, kid, you got a boyfriend you didn’t tell us about?” Mm no, he regrets being in both their presence. Danny waved their questions away as he turned in a slow circle looking for the door. He wasn't quite sure of the time, but he was positive he was late to pick up Jazz. He answered as he made his way to the unconscious body of the guy who lost the staring contest, “a friend, well, a customer - a regular really. Nice guy, cute, has a staring problem.” Danny stooped down and started digging through the guys pockets, “do either of you know where the exit is?” Thankfully the guy was the one with his phone, he didn't want to search all the kidnappers. Turning it on, Danny saw that he was late and Jazz had already caught a taxi back to his place. The text had got increasingly more panicked the longer he hadn’t responded along with an alarming number of missed calls. 

Danny shot her a quick text as he followed Spoiler out of the building. Sorry, got kidnapped, am fine now. Please don't call. Will explain later. Love ya <3 He quickly added a selfie that Spoiler photo bombed over his shoulder holding up a peace sign. 

The screen immediately lit up with a facetime call. Danny turned it off and stuffed it in his pocket. He really didn't want Jazz meeting Red Hood.

He turned to face his “saviors.” “Okay, this has been fun. Thanks for the rescue, sorry I can’t stay and talk but I am needed elsewhere.” Throwing a quick salute he started down the street. After a block and a half he stopped at the opening of an ally. “You know I hate it when you all just stalk me from the shadows, it's very Babadook of you.” Hood appeared first behind Danny, “what's Babadook?” “A gay icon,” Spoiler drops in front of Danny. “Very true,” Danny high fives her as he hears Red Hood sigh, seeming to mutter to himself, “this is going in the folder.” “Okay,” Danny says, addressing both of them, “you don't need to walk me home.” Red Hood crossed his arms, “you’d rather your ‘Tom’ walk you?” Danny really really didn't want Jazz to meet Red Hood. Danny sighed, “His name is Tim and he’s just a friend and I’d rather nobody walked me home, I’m a fully capable adult.” “Capable huh? That’s what you call last week’s fiasco?” Last week’s fiasco being an incident that may or may not have involved a cult trying to sacrifice him. (He was insulted that they were trying to sacrifice him to a low level demon. He was the king of the infinite realms and they were using him to summon Craig? Really? Not that they knew any of this but still. Rude.) Spoiler placed her forearm on Danny’s shoulder to lean, as if he wasn't a few inches taller then her. “Not to mention tonight's kidnapping.” Danny shrugged her off. “And you two saved me,” he started slowly backing away into the alley behind him, “so, danger avoided.” Red Hood's hand shot out and grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt collar, “uh-uh, you're not pulling the disappearing act tonight.” Danny had indeed been intending to disappear and fly home, now he was being scuffed like a kitten. In hindsight he had pulled that move fairly often with Hood. Crossing his legs Danny refused to be set down on his feet so Red Hood dropped him. “Ow!”One peaceful day, was that too much? (Luckly, they didnt follow him into his building and just watched him enter. Unluckily, he had a worried and very annoyed older sister to face.) (“A selfie, Danny?! Really!?” “I wanted to assure you it was really me!”)

Part 7

[wendichester]

i feel like both the boys would be very warm and/or run very warm, they'd have heat almost radiating off them?? maybe it's the hypervigilance or worry of something going wrong that makes them and their blood on alert 😭

and oh to take advantage of that in both platonic or romantic ways; having them as your personal heaters, putting bare cold hands on their biceps / shoulders/ back and them freaking out and sometimes worrying like?? you sure you good? 😟

a girl can dream 🫒🔥

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ cold hands,

summary. cold hands, warm bodies, an easy fix

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 225 ; 390.

notes. but of course, they would be the best heaters. just sliding your hands up dean's back or stealing sam's clothes... ooof, that would be the d-r-e-a-m .ᐟ

The bunker’s kitchen was colder than usual, the kind of chill that seeped through the walls and settled deep in your bones. You shuffled in wearing your thickest socks and the fuzziest sweater you owned, but it still wasn’t enough.

Dean was standing by the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand while sipping coffee from a chipped mug in the other. The smell was comforting, but not nearly as comforting as the warmth radiating off him.

“Morning,” he grumbled, not even looking up as you approached.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice muffled by the steam rising from the griddle. Without much thought, you reached out and pressed your freezing hands against his back.

“Jesus Christ!” Dean jerked forward, almost spilling his coffee. “What the hell, sweetheart?”

You laughed, not even bothering to remove your hands. His body was like a furnace, the heat soaking into your palms instantly. “You’re so warm. I need this. Don’t move.”

Dean twisted to look at you over his shoulder, his brows furrowed but his lips twitching with amusement. “Are you sure you’re not dying? Your hands are like ice.”

“I’m fine,” you said, pressing closer. “You’re just my personal heater now. Accept it.”

Dean sighed dramatically, setting his coffee down. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, leaning back slightly to let you soak up more of his warmth.

The bunker’s library was a sanctuary most days, but tonight, it was an icebox. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you wandered in, spotting Sam buried in a pile of books. He was sitting at the table, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his brow furrowed as he flipped through pages of an old tome.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice slightly muffled by the blanket draped over your shoulders.

Sam looked up, his warm hazel eyes softening when he saw you. “Hey. You okay? You look cold.”

“Because I am cold,” you replied, tugging the blanket tighter.

Sam frowned, his concern immediate. “You should’ve said something.”

“I figured I’d find you instead,” you teased, stepping closer.

Before he could reply, you slipped your icy hands onto his bare forearm. Sam jolted, eyes wide. “Whoa! Your hands are freezing!” He grabbed them gently, cradling your fingers between his much warmer palms. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, laughing softly at his reaction. “I’m fine, Sam. Just cold.”

Shaking his head, Sam released your hands only to reach for the hem of his sweater. “Here,” he said, tugging it off in one smooth motion and revealing a snug white T-shirt underneath. “Take this.”

You blinked in surprise as he held it out to you. “Sam, you don't have—”

“I have, and you will,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “You’re freezing, and I’m fine.”

With a hesitant smile, you took the sweater. It was warm from his body heat and smelled faintly of his soap and shampoo. Pulling it over your head, you were instantly enveloped in his comforting warmth. The sleeves were comically long, nearly swallowing your hands, and the hem fell well past your hips.

“How do I look?” you asked, grinning as you did a little spin.

Sam chuckled, leaning back in his chair to take you in. “Like you raided my closet.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, sinking into the chair across from him, the sweater already doing wonders to chase away the chill.

Sam smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to his book. “If you get cold again, just tell me, alright? Don’t freeze yourself trying to be tough.”

“Deal,” you said, tugging the oversized sleeves over your hands as you relaxed into the warmth.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery

[bless-my-demons]

Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Reader

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

Part Two

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green, Part 27

masterpost This is just a first draft, please no concrit!

Danny wasn’t sure about this.

He should be. Bruce seemed sure about it. His… his siblings seemed sure about it. Babs seemed sure about it. But Danny… Danny couldn’t help but feel like he was forcing himself on another person. The fact that Annalise was dead didn’t help him feel any better at all. In fact, everyone had learned to avoid that point of argument after how upset it had made Danny the first time that Damian had tried it.

They didn’t get it, how could they? Death meant something different to them.

“Danny?” Dick’s concerned voice interrupted Danny’s thoughts. “Do you want something different to eat?”

Danny blinked down at the scrambled eggs that he had been idly pushing around on his plate for the last few minutes. The yellow lumps didn’t look very edible anymore. “Oh. Um, I guess another scone and some fruit?”

It was only Dick, Damian, Duke, and Bruce at breakfast that day. All the D kids. Jason had gone back home yesterday. Dick would leave today, but Tim would be back and maybe Cass. It was hard to have less of them there. It was hard to have them away where Danny couldn’t know they were safe. Danny tried not to make a big deal about it, he had to let them all start getting back to their lives. They had been giving up so much for him.

After swallowing a large bite of the scone Dick had passed him, Danny asked, “Can I see how changing back to my ghost form goes today?”

For just a split second, everyone at the table froze before they forced themselves back into motion.

“Of course. Do you want to do that after breakfast? I’d like myself or Dick to be with you, in case there’s a set back with your injuries,” Bruce said.

“I guess? I don’t know when Dick wants to leave,” Danny said with a glance between the two adults at the table.

“I don’t have to head out until early afternoon,” Dick chirped. “What’s work like for you, B?”

“Just an afternoon meeting that I’ll be attending virtually. Lucius knows there’s a family thing going on and is holding down the fort,” Bruce said.

“Lucius Fox,” Duke explained. “He keeps stuff running and Bruce on track.”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s true. He also knows about the family nightlife, which helps immensely.”

“I guess that after breakfast works,” Danny said as he picked a little at his scone. He was realizing that Bruce hadn’t actually seen his ghost form before. Damian and Duke hadn’t either, he didn’t think. It felt like a reveal even though it wasn’t. Danny met Damian’s searching gaze and gave a little bit of a shrug. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been in it. I guess I’m feeling, like, this itch about it.”

Damian gave a little nod. “A muscle that needs stretching. May I join Father and Grayson in the Cave to watch?”

A chunk of the scone broke off. Danny fumbled it slightly before just setting the pastry down on his plate. “Sure? I don’t know if it’s really going to be anything interesting. I’m guessing that I might still be pretty weak, so I don’t really plan to try much.”

“What sort of things can you normally do?” Duke asked as he mopped up the last of the egg on his plate with a piece of toast.

Danny resisted the urge to fidget with the scone again. “Oh, um, well flight is the most basic thing.”

“Please no flying too high or over open parts of the cave right now,” Bruce said with a slightly strained sounding voice. “I’d rather you not fall when we can’t safely catch you. When you think you’re stable, we can have a family friend over to spot you.”

“Oh. Sure? I mean, I’ve fallen before and I’ve been fine. It’s hard for me to take damaged in the form.”

“Still, Dandelion,” Dick said carefully. “We’d rather not risk you. Just put up with us being overly cautious for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny replied on rote. He didn’t really get it. There hadn’t been any being careful before with Sam and Tucker, but he had been hurt around his new family a lot. “Um, other powers I have are to go invisible and intangible. And I can shoot some energy blast elemental things. There’s duplication too, but it’s, um… yeah. Not great and I don’t want to after…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. This is just what you need,” Bruce assured him. “No one is asking you to use your powers here unless it’s something that you want to do or need to do for your health.”

Danny gave a jerky little nod and looked away. “Right.”

“Come on, Dami,” Dick said as he stood, “let’s go run through some stretches so we can get some practice in before I leave.”

“I’ll let Alfred know you’ll still be here for lunch and that I won’t be. Group project,” Duke said and got up also.

It went from a pretty full table to just Danny and Bruce almost instantly. Danny nibbled on a chunk of the scone.

“Danny, what’s going through your head, chum?”

What was going through his head? “I just… I don’t know. My ghost half has always been for something. Sam wanted me to fight the other ghosts. My… anyways, experiments. I guess I don’t know how to talk about it after everything. I don’t know how to talk about it with all of you. You guys are out there being heroes all the time and… don’t you want to use my powers?”

Bruce moved to the seat next to Danny. He was so large that he loomed a little even when trying to seem smaller. Danny didn’t think he’d get that large. Not anymore, not after dying. Not after the years in a box.

Would Damian get bigger than him? Probably.

“In the Justice League, I’m the strategist,” Bruce said calmly. “There have been times in my life that I’ve been far too much the strategist. There have been other times in my life when I’ve tried to use strategy to cover up my fears and feelings and have hurt people. It’s something that I still have to work on, and I likely will for the rest of my life. I very much do not want to not screw that up with you. After everything you’ve been through, I want it to be as clear as possible that who you are and what you are isn’t something that I plan to use. The only one that gets to say what you use that for is yourself. You’re not an asset, you’re my kid.”

Danny blinked quickly. He didn’t want to cry again. “I don’t know if I know how to be a kid anymore.”

“I was horrible at being a kid,” Bruce said. “As were… well, a number of my children. But the good of that is, you don’t have to be a normal kid here. If for you being a kid is training Ursa and going flying and, I don’t know, building model airplanes then that’s fine. If at some point you do want to be part of the nightlife, then that will be fine too. You have all of us to figure those things out with you. And we’ll disagree sometimes, because we’re us, but that is alright too.”

Danny gave a slightly watery little chuckle. “Going to build model airplanes with me?”

“If that’s what you’re into, absolutely.”

“What if… what if part of what I want is to reach out to Jazz? What if I want her to help me figure out things too?”

“Then I just ask that you let us figure out how to do that safely first so that no one can find you here and come for you,” Bruce said.

“You’d really let me?”

“She’s your sister. You being part of this family doesn’t change that. In fact, Jazz welcome to be part of this family if she would like to be. But she can also not be and still be your sister.”

“Once it’s safe,” Danny said. “I’ll reach out once it’s safe for me and for Dami and Jason too. I won’t let them get hurt because of me.”

Bruce ruffled Danny’s hair. “I know you won’t. Just let us help with it. I don’t think any of us could take you running off like that again.”

Danny winced. “That… wasn’t my best moment.”

“Maybe not, but we all understand how you got to that point. I’m just glad that you were headed to me and that we got you back,” Bruce said with a little shrug. “Well, and that you didn’t get pneumonia from being injured and out in the rain.”

Danny stood when Bruce did, setting his napkin on the table. He tried not to seem like he was scrambling, but the formal meals were still a little much. “I’m glad about that too. I think I’ve been injured enough for a long time.”

“You really have been,” Bruce agreed. “Which is why I’d prefer no full on flying until we have either Superman or Superboy over to visit and spot you.”

“I won’t fall, I don’t think.”

“Still,” Bruce said with a little frown that seemed somehow dark.

“Oh, strategist. You can, like, picture it, can’t you? Me falling.”

“Far too easily.”

“Okay, yeah, no full on flying on my own until you know I won’t fall,” Danny agreed. “Even if I know you’d catch me.”

“We’d try our best to, chum, always.”

[geeky-politics-46]

Surgery Headcanon

How would my favorite Marvel men react to you having surgery. 

I'm getting my gallbladder taken out in a couple of weeks, it will be my first surgery ever, so this is 100% self-indulgent. That's part of why I've been so absent this year, I've had an organ rebelling.

Doctor Stephen Strange 

Will ask who your doctor is to see if he knows them. If not, he may send a referral to a trusted former colleague on your behalf. He's not letting you under the knife unless he knows you have a good surgeon.

Will tell you how routine the surgery is if you are starting to worry. Almost a bit blasé about your concerns, after all, bedside manner was never his strong suit as a surgeon. Plus, it really is a routine, laparoscopic procedure. Way less intricate & dangerous than neurosurgery.

1000% will try to micromanage everything once you're at the hospital prepping for or immediately out of surgery. He wants to see your chart. He wants to know what your most recent vitals are. Hell, he may have even asked if he can observe the surgery. Partly, it's him being overprotective, partly it's because he misses being a doctor.

Definitely breaking into the doctor's lounge for the good coffee, not the instant crap in the cafeteria.

After you are home, he will be vigilant about making sure you take your pain meds & will check your incisions to make sure everything is healing well. You are in very safe, if slightly neurotic hands.

Secretly, or not so secretly, enjoying getting to play doctor again to take care of you. Looking forward to when you are well enough that you can play doctor and patient the really fun way.

Bucky Barnes 

May actually be a bigger mess than you are. Thanks to Hydra, medical anything makes his anxiety shoot through the roof. Now piled on top of that, he feels out of control & helpless to make you feel better.

Would have to be physically dragged out of your hospital room, so the hospital staff just lets the whole “visitors hours” thing slide.

The second you wake up, he is by your side asking if you need anything. Probably didn't sleep or even sit down the entire time you were in surgery.

If you even make an odd face, he's asking if you are in pain, and he has become a huge pain in the ass for your nurses. 

May have thought about threatening your surgeon about if something went wrong.

Either guard dog mode, or he completely shuts down. There is no in between. 

Afraid he's going to break you while you are recovering. Offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch just in case. Doesn't want to let you out of his sight until you are healed. 

Steve Rogers

Tells you over and over how everything will be okay and that you are in good hands.

May tell you stories about how much hospitals and medical stuff has improved since he was so sick before the serum.

Reads up on your surgery and your doctors. He wants to understand as much as he can about what is going on. He probably has more questions for the doctor than you do.

Puts on a brave face for you but secretly will be a little nervous. He hates seeing you sick or in pain, and he can't help but worry a little bit.

Will respect hospital rules but will stay up until the very last minute of visiting hours are over. Knows the names of every nurse and doctor treating you. 

Definitely has flowers or a stuffed bear for you as soon as you wake up from surgery. 

Dotes on your every need once you are home and watches you like a hawk. The first few days, he doesn't even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. You can't get away with shortcutting your recovery under his eye. 

Sam Wilson

Buys you a cute, silly stuffed version of whatever you are having surgery on to make you laugh. See my new stuffed sad gallbladder plush as reference here.

All the nurses love him, and he likes to crack jokes with all the staff. Offers to help with anything he can but mostly tries to stay out of their way.

Trying to make you smile all the way until they wheel you to the OR. He doesn't want you to be scared or nervous. 

Like Steve, he will put on a brave face but will be nervous once you are in surgery. Lots of pacing back & forth. Lots of trips to the coffee machine.

Takes care of you once you are home but not quite as mother hen as Steve. Will let you judge what is best for you, but will 100% call you out if he sees you doing something the doctor told you not to.

Will also rat you out to your doctor if you don’t follow their instructions. He doesn't want to snitch, but he'd also rather not be the one to scold you.

Loki

Doesn't like the idea of someone operating on you. Trained surgeon or not, they are still just a simple Midgardian.

Doesn't like the hospital one bit. Comments on the color and decor, even the hideous hospital gown you have to wear. Partly to make you laugh, partly because it was all truly hideous.

If your surgeon even hesitates on a question you ask, Loki will assume they aren't the best and demand another doctor. You may have to talk him down a bit. He's a prince, after all, and he wants to make sure you are in the best hands possible.

The whole thing seems a bit barbaric to him. He would much have preferred using magic or Asgardian ways to heal you, but alas when on Midgard. 

Secretly terrified something will happen to you, but would never tell you he's worried. Doesn't like that he can't do anything to help you.

Is not very used to taking care of people, and as royalty, he's the one used to being waited on, but he will try his best to do whatever you need him to do.

Will probably mostly ignore instructions from the doctor so you are in charge of that part of your care, but he will beg to accelerate your healing with his magic if he can.

Eddie Brock & Venom

Venom brings you chocolates, which he then eats after you tell him he can, and says not to worry because if the doctors don't take proper care of you he will bite off their heads and eat their brains.

Eddie is nervous but trying to be brave, so you won't be scared. It doesn't help that Venom keeps telling Eddie not to make you nervous, which then, in turn, makes him nervous. He will try to make jokes and keep you entertained however he can.  

Eddie and Venom try not to argue while they wait for you to get done with surgery. The last thing you need is to wake up and find out that they ended up in the psych ward for talking to/arguing with themselves in the waiting room. They are on their best behavior.

Both of them try to wait on you hand and foot after you get home. You've had to eat several well-meaning but truly gross breakfasts in bed so as not to disappoint either of them. They mean so well, but neither of them can cook beyond tater tots.

You have woken up to Venom staring at you because “one of us has to watch you at all times until you are recovered”. He took that 100% seriously. He has also stuck tendrils under the bathroom door like cat paws.

One great thing about Venom is the fact that thanks to his tendrils, he can literally get anything you need from around the apartment in seconds without you or Eddie having to get up. This makes him one of the best nurses ever. All you have to do is hint that you want something and boom, it's there.

[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[sugardean]

ᴛʜʀᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇɴꜱ

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Left alone with Dean at the motel while Sam goes to gather supplies, Dean's reminded of old digital recording camera, hinting at some unexpected activities that are about to unfold.

Warnings: 18+ fluff, smut, fingering, dirty talk, spit, praising

In the dim light of the motel room, the flickering glow of the television filled the air with a soft hum, as you lay comfortably on Dean's legs. Your head is rested on top of your arms, in front of the tv screen. Dean is absentmindedly massaging your legs as they rest on him, a rare moment of peace settling between you two after a long day of hunting.

 "You did great out there y/n, I'm really proud of you," he whispered faintly, the softness in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You blushed, looking back at him with wide eyes, your hair tangled from the day's adventure. "Thank you baby," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Dean gives you a soft smile as he continues to massage your back legs.  

"I'm just glad we're in one piece”.

As silence fills the room, he senses concern by the tone in your voice, then pulls back after a moment, "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked. You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the softness of his voice. "I'm okay, just a little shaken up" you admit, your voice a little stronger now.

Dean's face softened, as he lays his hands back on you, gripping you tight. “Sweetheart you should know by now, as long as you’re with me, you'll be fine" he whispered. "We'll always get through it together." You felt a warm wave of reassurance wash over you as Dean's words sink in. His unwavering confidence and sincerity brings you a sense of peace. You drop your head down and smile, “always”. 

As the night goes on, you continue to mindlessly flip through channels in search of the perfect movie, unaware of the playful glint in Dean’s eyes. Suddenly, a brilliant idea sparks in his mind; he lunges for his old digital camera nestled in his hunting bag. With a sly grin, he turns it on, as he continues to massage your legs, his smirk never leaving his face. “You know, I do have a few ideas that might help you unwind even more, if you want sweetheart”. 

Then suddenly his hands slowly start to inch up your thighs stopping at your hips. You pause for a moment, turning your gaze from the TV as Dean's words sink in. You continue to slightly turn your head as you notice dean holding a camera in the reflection of the mirror that’s hung right in front of the bed. He continued to massage you, hands now resting on the globes of your ass. You gasp at the feeling, letting out a soft whimper, “yeah? What kinds of ideas?” you say teasingly watching Dean adjust the camera facing your ass. 

“Why don't I just show you baby hm?” 

A shiver runs down your spine as you unexpectedly feel Dean's hands trail down the line of your shorts. After gradually easing your shorts down, Dean quietly gasps, staring down at your black thong as he teasingly starts snapping the lace against your skin, biting his lip in desperation. 

You wiggle your ass slightly arching your back in response to the feeling of the slight sting repeatedly hitting your skin. “Fuck baby, keeping doing that”

Dean says as he angles the camera closer to the curve of your ass. “Been wanting to fuck you since we got here.” Dean lets go of the corner of your thong and rests his thumb on the surface of your clit, the thin lace covering your clit completely.

 “Fuck, you’re so wet. this turns you on huh baby? Knowing you're being filmed while I touch your pretty pussy hm? How desperate and needy you are for me?” You moan in response, winding your hips rubbing the top of your clit against Dean's sweatpants for any type of friction.

 “Yes dean please, need you so bad.”

Dean smirks, angling the camera towards his growing bulge and back up close to your clit. “You’re so fucking eager baby but you have to lay still, can’t mess up the angles”.

Suddenly you hear the sound of Dean spitting on his two fingers, gradually pulling your thong to the side and placing them on your clit rubbing them up and down. You grip the sides of the sheets next to you,lustily moaning as he continues to slowly rub his spit covered fingers along your clit then, without warning a finger enters into your entrance. 

“That's it baby let it all out, let me hear that pretty voice” Dean starts to speed up fingering you faster and faster, the sounds of your moans and your wetness sloshing together. You felt your pussy tighten around Dean's thick fingers as he continues sliding them in and out.

Dean continues to bite his lip staring down at your glistening folds about to lose his mind. The lewd sounds of your moans, covering the room.

“You wanna cum sweetheart hm?

Tell me how bad you need it, how bad you wanna show the camera your pussy covered in cum. Shit, i’ll fuck you so good need to hear you baby cmon”. You stutter continuing to moan at deans words, “p-please dean need you to make me cum, need you to fuck my pussy.”

Fuck he knows exactly what to say to you to make you so weak, so desperate and miserable just for him, no one could ever compare.

You continue to scream his name when suddenly, you see Dean's arm stretch over the end of the bed laying the camera in front of you, the lens up close to your face. “Cmon baby, scream my name into the camera.” 

You bite your lip staring down at the camera moaning Dean's name repeatedly, your climax slowly approaching. The feeling of his fingers deep inside of you and repeated groans, drawing you closer and closer to your completion.

You separate your gaze away from the camera for a moment and when you thought it couldn't get any better, you notice the look on dean's face through the mirror, his mouth slightly open staring down at your wet pussy, turning you on more than ever.

 The thought of being filmed and seen in so many different ways, the look on dean's gorgeous face, his green eyes sparkling through the mirror, sweat glistening from his forehead. How did you get so lucky? 

You continue to stare at Dean grinding against his hardness for more continued friction, as he lifts his head up, noticing your gaze on him through the mirror, maintaining eye contact with both of your mouths still slightly open. “Fuck you’re so hot. So fucking ready to cum huh?

Do it for me sweetheart, soak my fingers.” 

Continuing the intense eye contact you scream, the feeling of deans fingers squelching in and out of your pussy as you cum, “fuck yes dean! oh fuck fuck, I’m cumming” The sounds of your moans drowning out the tv playing as you shake against him.

He continues to rub your clit when you suddenly squeeze your legs together as he says, “Fuckkkk yeah baby just like that. Such a good girl.” Rubbing up and down your legs, you smile trying to catch your breath, laying your head against his leg as he gazes back down at the sight of you.

“Ah ah no resting yet sweetheart. We're just getting started, and considering how quick Sam shops, you better be ready to cum even quicker then the first time”.

sooo Part 2?

reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests and asks are always open!!

i hope you guys enjoyed and please lmk if anyone wants a part 2 👀

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅꜱ ⋆₊ creds

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @witchywannabe3263 @ironenemycollective

------‐--------------------------------------------------------

Tw: tension

Part 5

Words of Command - Part 6

The common kitchen in Stark Tower is wide and open, all clean marble counters, gleaming stainless steel, and a ceiling so high your laughter echoes off it. Early sunlight streams through the wide windows, golden and rich, the sky outside feathered in soft clouds.

You’ve taken over the space—apron tied around your waist, a smudge of flour across your cheek, and your favorite mixing bowl in your arms. You hum along to the music playing from the speaker, something catchy, bouncing through the room.

Sam is perched on the counter, tossing a grape up and catching it with his mouth.

Clint lounges backward in one of the bar stools, a mug of coffee in one hand, watching the chaos with a grin.

Natasha sits cross-legged on the kitchen island, absently slicing apples while watching you with something like amusement.

Steve is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and relaxed, soaking in the nostalgia of a time when kitchens like this held wartime hope and pie crusts.

You’re giggling, trying to pour vanilla without spilling it when Thor bursts in.

Thor, in all his thunderous, golden-haired glory, strides in holding a large bag of sugar like it’s a weapon. “Lady of sweetness! I have brought the… dust! That which makes the confections rise, yes?”

You blink. “…Sugar?”

He beams. “Yes!”

He dumps it onto the counter. The bag explodes slightly.

You yelp and laugh as a cloud of white puffs into the air. Thor looks momentarily concerned, then breaks into hearty laughter. “We are off to a rousing start, little one!”

You’re trying to teach Thor how to fold batter, but he stirs like he’s summoning a storm, splattering mix across your apron.

You squeal and swat his arm.

The radio switches songs. A classic—one from the 40s. The kind of tune that would’ve played from a diner jukebox, scratchy and alive with memory.

You begin to sway a little to the rhythm. Absentminded, soft. Humming.

Thor catches your rhythm and spins you suddenly—clumsy but careful, his hand a broad support under yours.

Your laugh bubbles out again—light and natural.

The door to your room creaks.

Bucky—no, Soldat—emerges, barefoot but still clothed in the same clothes from the day before, now wrinkled. He’s half-shadow, half man, pausing in the hall with narrowed eyes as he listens.

Music. Laughter.

He doesn’t understand the pull in his chest.

His head tilts slightly.

Brooklyn laces the furrow in his brow.

He knows this song. Not the lyrics. Not the memory. Just... the feel.

He follows the sound.

The moment he steps into the kitchen, the air shifts.

Everyone goes quiet, instinctively aware. Thor, still holding the mixing spoon like a sword, looks over with surprise.

Natasha’s eyes flick up—calculating, but calm.

Steve stands a little straighter.

You spot him, instantly, eyes bright with something soft. “Soldat.”

His gaze locks onto you.

Focus returns. The fog tightens. Everyone else blurs. You are the anchor.

He walks slowly into the room—silent but deliberate, every step echoing. He doesn’t acknowledge the others. Doesn’t glance at them.

Just you.

“Doll?,” he says simply.

You smile, small and kind. “You’re up.”

He nods once.

“…You were dancing.” His voice isn’t curious. It’s just a statement.

You nod.

“I was teaching Thor how to bake.”

Bucky glances at Thor, who raises his batter-covered hands and grins. “The Lady is a fine teacher, my new friend!”

Bucky’s jaw clenches subtly.

You catch it.

“Do you want to help?”

There’s a pause.

He doesn’t say yes.

But he steps closer.

That’s enough.

You pass him the bowl.

Bucky holds it like it might break.

You guide his hands. “Here. Slow. Gentle.”

His body responds better to orders than suggestions. He mirrors your movements. His metal arm remains stiff and unused, hovering.

Your small hand rests lightly on his human forearm.

“There you go, Soldat.”

He exhales through his nose. Not quite a sigh.

Behind you, Clint whispers to Sam, “This is like watching a bear learn ballet.” Nat kicks his shin.

When the batch goes into the oven, you wipe your floury hands on your apron and offer him a dish towel. He blinks at it, then uses it like you did.

Tiny progress.

Bucky stands behind you as you lean forward to check the oven. Watching.

“Smells sweet,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

You glance up.

Your voice is quiet, laced with warmth. “It’s supposed to.”

He nods slowly.

The kitchen remains warm and full of lingering scents—baked sugar, cinnamon, the crisp edge of toasted flour. One tray of muffins rests cooling on a wire rack while another still rises golden behind the glass of the oven.

Sam and Clint are arguing about whether or not Thor’s batter-slinging counts as “assault with a kitchen utensil”. Nat looks unimpressed, perched like a cat on the counter’s edge.

Steve is still leaning in the archway, arms folded, but his gaze isn’t casual. It’s on Bucky.

Watching.

Waiting.

You’re wiping a streak of frosting off the edge of a bowl when the next song comes onto the speaker.

It’s old. Real old.

Soft piano. Light snare. A woman's velvet voice, the kind that sounds like it could soothe a storm.

“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see…”

Thor turns toward you like a golden retriever with a crown. “Another one of your mortal songs! Come, we shall dance again!” He extends both flour-dusted hands toward you.

You glance over your shoulder.

Bucky’s standing exactly where you left him. Still, shoulders square, head slightly tilted like he’s listening to something inside the song.

That neutral mask is back—brows furrowed, lips set tight, unreadable.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Thor…”

Your voice draws Bucky's eyes.

Not his head. Not his body. Just his eyes—a shift beneath the surface, sharp and precise.

You’re used to it by now he doesn’t react well to loud surprises or sudden movements.

He focuses.

The song continues, gently building.

“Someone to watch over me…”

You turn back to Thor with a soft smile. “Maybe later.”

Thor raises an eyebrow. “You fear I will spin you into the fridge again?”

A tiny laugh escapes you. “Maybe.”

Behind you, Bucky blinks—slowly. His jaw loosens slightly, just a fraction.

“I know this,” he murmurs.

Everyone freezes.

It’s quiet. Not stunned silence, but that charged stillness when everyone’s afraid to move in case something precious shatters.

You turn fully toward him.

“Soldat?”

He doesn’t look at you yet. His eyes are somewhere else, pulled into the melody like it’s hooked him through the ribs.

“…This song. It was… on a… record player.” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “Room had… yellow curtains. Big windows. A fan spinning slow. I… I was sittin’. Legs out. Had a—” He frowns. Brow tightens. “—a bruise. On my knee. From a fall. Someone was hummin’…”

He trails off.

The moment hangs, trembling.

You step toward him. Slowly. Quietly.

Socks sliding gently on the tile. When you reach him, you look up—he towers over you, but you don’t shrink back.

Your voice is soft. Careful. “Do you remember who was humming?”

He shakes his head once. It’s almost a flinch. “No. Just… hands. They put a bandaid on it. Said I shouldn’t run inside.”

His hand twitches.

You don’t reach out—not yet. But you nod gently, guiding him with the rhythm of your presence.

“Sounds like a good memory.”

He swallows. Adam’s apple bobbing once.

“Don’t know if it’s real.”

Your voice doesn't falter. “Even if it isn’t, it’s yours.”

Finally—his eyes find you.

“Doll.”

That’s all he says.

But he says it like a lifeline.

Behind you, Steve shifts, voice warm but subdued. “That song used to play on jukeboxes back in Brooklyn. Think you and I heard it a hundred times in diners after late nights.”

Bucky doesn’t react to him.

But he does keep looking at you.

You offer him a smile. It’s small, sincere. “Want me to turn it off?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Leave it.”

His voice sounds different now. Still heavy, but… less robotic. More man.

You nod.

And then—slowly—you reach out.

You don’t touch him. Not quite. You let your fingers hover over his flesh hand, palm-up, like an invitation.

He looks at it. Then at you.

Then—his fingers curl into yours.

Gently.

Carefully.

Like the song in his chest might disappear if he moves too fast.

The elevator doors hiss open.

You didn’t think much of it at first. People came and went in the tower all the time. It was a place of chaos, innovation, and the occasional alien.

But then you saw them.

Black combat uniforms. Matching gear. Earpieces. Boots moving in perfect sync.

Six men. Identical emblems on their shoulders.

STRIKE.

And suddenly… the room wasn’t warm anymore.

“Stay where you are.” One of the agents held up a hand. His voice was clipped, official. “This is a retrieval order. Designated asset—Winter Soldier—is to be taken into secure custody immediately.”

Your blood went cold.

Steve stepped forward. “The hell you are.”

The man didn’t flinch. “Orders come from the top, Cap”

You were already moving. Your legs shaky, your voice thin but rising. “He’s not an asset. He’s a person.”

You turn and plant yourself between them and Bucky—who had risen the moment they entered, body tense, eyes narrowed, not like a man afraid, but like a predator calculating.

You felt his presence behind you, that heavy silence you were learning to read. His hand hadn’t even twitched, but you could tell it was close.

“JARVIS,” you said, without looking away from the men, “alert Mr. Stark. Now.”

“Right away, Miss.”

The lead agent’s tone sharpened. “Move aside, ma’am. You’re a civilian.”

“I don’t care what I am,” you snapped. Your voice shook, but you didn’t step back. “You’re not taking him.”

From behind you, his voice was low. Calm. That unsettling stillness of a trained weapon waiting for a green light.

“Doll…”

You didn’t turn. You couldn’t—you were afraid if you looked at him, they’d see the softness in your face and take it as weakness.

“...You want me to drop ‘em?”

The Brooklyn rasp was undeniable now. Bucky Barnes’ voice, shaped by decades and sharpened by pain.

You could order him. You knew he would listen. That terrifying reality sank like a stone in your stomach.

“No, Soldat” you said, forcing steady breath through your chest. “Not unless they touch you.”

The air crackled.

The STRIKE men tensed. Guns stayed holstered, but the fingers on their triggers said they were one flinch away from escalation.

Clint had drawn an arrow without you even seeing him move. Natasha was already beside the window, calculating exits. Sam muttered, “Bad idea, fellas.”

Steve stepped forward again, jaw tight. “You know who that is. You know he’s not a threat here.”

“He’s unstable,” the agent said flatly. “You want to risk a incident ?”

“He’s healing,” you hissed, finally losing the softness. “And you’re trying to tear that away before he has a chance.”

Another agent stepped forward.

Big mistake.

Bucky was there in an instant, the metal arm outstretched to block you from them, eyes darkened to gunmetal grey. His whole frame radiated threat.

The agent froze mid-step.

Bucky didn’t blink. “Touch her,” he said, low and deadly, “and I break you.”

No shout. No warning shot. Just fact.

The way he positioned himself—just ahead of you, feet braced, body angled to protect without trapping—was instinctive. Calculated.

Not as some Soldier.

Not fully.

You pressed your hand to Bucky’s flesh forearm gently. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop his guard either.

You turned to the agents again, standing taller despite your size. “He’s not leaving this tower without a fight. And if he does… I go with him.”

The lead agent looked at you like you were insane. “You’re just some civilian, step asid—”

“He’s mine to protect.”

The words surprised even you. Not because they weren’t true—but because you hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

Behind you, you felt Bucky breathe in. A long, slow inhale that felt like a boundary shifting.

The agents exchanged glances, clearly unsettled. Seconds later, JARVIS chimed back in.

“Miss, Mr. Stark is en route. ETA thirty seconds. I suggest these gentlemen reevaluate their survival instincts.”

The tension in the kitchen could be snapped with a breath.

The STRIKE agents were still half-positioned in front of you and Bucky. Their expressions were sharp, poised, but increasingly uncertain. Clint hadn’t lowered his bow.

That he pulled from god only knows where.

Natasha was eyeing their flank, calculating at least five different ways to kill them all. Steve stood at your shoulder, barely resisting the urge to punch someone through a wall.

Then—

DING.

The elevator opened like curtain call.

Tony Stark stepped out, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, sarcasm already loaded like live ammunition.

“Well, well, look at this charming little hostage situation. We having a bake sale, or did I miss the part where government stooges now raid my private tower without asking?”

His tone was light, but the edge beneath it was diamond-sharp.

You felt Bucky shift behind you again, metal fingers twitching in small, reflexive movements. He was still tense, unreadable to most—but you could see the microexpressions. The slight drop of his shoulders. The faintest breath exhaled. He knew you weren’t alone anymore.

The lead STRIKE agent straightened. “Mr. Stark. Our orders—”

“Oh no, I love this part,” Tony interrupted smoothly, strolling toward you with casual arrogance. “You barge in like a low-budget SWAT team, threaten my very adorable receptionist—hi, Sunshine,” he nodded to you mid-sentence, like this wasn’t life and death, “and expect me to just roll out the red carpet for an armed extraction in my own damn house?”

You gave him a look somewhere between mortified and deeply grateful.

“Sir, this is a classified retrieval.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony slurped his coffee obnoxiously. “Here’s another classified fact, you’re all about five seconds from being escorted out by a literal army of sentient vacuum cleaners with plasma beams. JARVIS?”

“Ready to deploy, sir. With enthusiasm.”

The STRIKE agent hesitated.

Tony dropped the act for a moment. His voice dropped an octave. Flat. Cold.

“You don’t get to take what isn’t yours. And he—” Tony’s eyes flicked to Bucky, “—doesn’t belong to you.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. His stance was still guarded, but he leaned subtly toward you.

“Doll…” he said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “…who the hell is he ?”

“Tony, is” you murmured softly, almost amused through the adrenaline. “My boss ... also a friend”

Bucky made a noncommittal grunt and rolled his shoulder. He didn’t look convinced.

He didn’t know Tony. Didn’t care about Tony. But you said he was a friend—and that was enough for now.

He stood like a wall at your back, that unmistakable air of restrained violence. His body language screamed don’t test me, but the only person he actually looked at was you.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” Tony said, switching gears. “He stays. She stays. You all leave. If your higher-ups have a problem with that, tell them to call me—though I might be unavailable, what with the lawsuits I’m about to file for trespassing, unauthorized operation, intimidation, and—you guessed it—traumatizing my receptionist.”

“You’re not authorized to shelter an unstable asset—”

“He’s not an asset,” you snapped, voice rising for the first time since the confrontation began. “He’s a human being.”

You startled yourself with how fierce you sounded. Tony turned toward you, raising a brow like he was genuinely impressed.

“Oh, that’s new,” he muttered. “Look at you, getting all Warrior Princess.”

The agents finally, slowly, backed down.

They filed into the elevator with stiff, silent precision. No one said goodbye.

[alien-slushie]

Absolutely tickled by the idea that, after the accident, everyone thinks Danny is a vampire. Like him being a ghost doesn't sound plausible, but at the same time if ghosts are a thing so to should be vampires. Why do people think this? A couple reasons.

1. They never see Danny eat anymore

-Danny doesnt need to eat as Ectoplasm now sustains him, he doesn't even notice he hasn't eaten in 3 weeks, he just hasn't felt hungry

2. He is now super super pale

-While not the ghostly green/blue of normal ghosts, since Danny is still half alive, his skin looks super pale now, like not deathly pale, but illness pale

3. His breathing patterns are weird, like he purposefully has to remember to breathe

-Danny doesnt have to breathe as much any more, and is slowly loosing the muscle memory of having to, so hes hyper aware of his breathing but if hes focused on something else he forgets

4. He more sensitive towards the sun

-It's less being sensitive to the sun, and more it's just too hot for him during the day, outside of winter and fall, due to his ice core/powers

5. Danny is now cold to the touch

-Again, Ice Core/Powers

6. Danny seems unperterbed with death, and Horror movies, and the like

-After having died himself, hes not sacred of it. Sure there are things that still freak Danny out and make him uncomfortable, but watching a horror movie villain chase teenagers around, or having to disect frogs, or seeing road kill doesn't really effect him anymore

7. He's stronger than his noodle arms would intale

-Danny has a bit of a strength boost in ghost form, and while his human form doesnt have the same amount of strength, hes slightly stronger than he should be. Hes good at hiding it for the most part, but a few times hes shoved Dash away from him and accidentally sent him flying. Oops, sorry not sorry.

8. Enhanced senses

-Danny has night vision now, which is cool, but his senses aren't actually that much more advanced, it's only his ghost sense that makes it seem like he has better senses because he "always knows' when a ghost attack his gonna happen.

9. Hes always drinking from a thermos, and hes super protective of said thermos.

-Liquid Ectoplasm, while Danny doesnt have to eat, he does need a boost here and there after tough fights or after spending too long in human form

10: Fangs

-Danny has little ghost fangs, they're longer in ghost form, at about 2-3 inches, but in human form they're only about 1 inch

Danny has no idea people think hes a vampire. Yeah they're all weirdly polite now but he just thinks that his classmates are maturing and being nicer. Hes proud of them!

Jack and Maddie don't really care. Like they're concerned about how he became a vampire, but since hes not a ghost(as far as they know) and he seems fine they're happy to just ignore it. Same with the GIW, they could care less about blood suckers, vampires belong to different branch of government guys who suck at their job, and they suck at their jobs somehow worse than the GIW so they're not really an issue.

But Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, oh they know. And they think it's hilarious! They also help play it up, because if people think Danny is a Vampire, they won't look too deeply into any connection he might have with Phantom.

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

Protective~ Dean Winchester imagine

Warnings// angst, fluff and cock blocking

lil summery// just a lil cutesy protective Dean Winchester

*REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT*

Dean x Reader

Word count// 1400

(gif from Pinterest)

You Sam and Dean had just finished a pretty rough ghoul hunt, once you guys had all showered the remnants of the night, dean suggested you guys head out for a few drinks to celebrate, once you got to the bar Dean and you slide into a booth, deans arm wrapping around your shoulders pulling you into his side “you get the first round Sammy” Dean said smirking at his brother, Sam rolled his eyes “fine but you’re next” he said walking to the bar

“So how you feeling after you’re first ghoul sweetheart” you looked up at your boyfriend “well I’ve gotta say I won’t be chasing one for a very long time, much prefer a simple salt and burn” Dean chuckled kissing the side of your head, “alright beers are severed” Sam said sitting down with the drinks “thanks Sammy” you said taking a drink out the bottle

You and the guys were having a great time talking about passed hunts before you’d met them “he just looked at me all upset and said ‘I lost my shoe’ all because he lost the damn rabbits foot” Dean laughed finishing his second beer, “alright my round boys just another beer?”you questioned getting up “yeah thanks Y/N” Sam said “yeah me too thank you sweetheart” you hooded moving to the slightly crowded bar you quickly got the bar tenders attention “hi three beers please” the man nodded “that’ll be 12 bucks gorgeous” he said placing three beers in front of you, you nodded handing him a 20 dollar bill, the bar tender went to get your change leaving you standing for a few minutes

“what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a place like this” a man grumbled out from one of the bar stools, he looked to be a drunk creep no younger than mid 50s “I’m here with my boyfriend and friend” you said back hoping he’d back off at the boyfriend comment “ah bet your boyfriend doesn’t treat you like I would” the man said moving closer to you “look buddy I’m not interested I’m in a relationship” he didn’t seem too happy with that “you better watch yourself you bitch I’m giving you a choice the only thing you should be saying is yes sir, because that’s the only damn thing you’ll be saying when I’m pounding you in front of your little boyfriend you slut!” he spat out, “is there a problem here miss?” The bartender asked returning with your change “no everything’s fine thanks” you said grabbing the change stuffing it in your pocket before taking the beers back to the winchesters

“Hey sweetheart everything good? You were gone a while” Dean said grabbing his beer and pulling you back to your place at his side “yeah fine just waiting for my change” you answered quietly, you could see the man from the bar staring at you his hand holding his glass tightly in his grasp as he wouldn’t break eye contact “I’m gonna head back to the motel after this one guys I’m pretty tired” you said feeling uncomfortable either the stares the man wa giving you, dean nodded “yeah I think we’ll all head out then, you good with that Sam?” Dean questioned, Sam nodded

Once you guys finished your drinks you made your way to the exit, from the corner of your eye you seen the man get up, following your trail to the exit, starting to feel scared you grabbed deans hand tight, Dean turned to look at you concerned “you okay Y/N? You hands really sweaty” you nodded to answer him too nervous to even speak, you thought the night air would make you feel better but knowing the man was following behind was just making your feel sick, before you could get into baby dean stopping you, both hands on your arms as he looked at you “sweetheart my job is lying for a living, I know somethings bothering you and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is” Dean asked alerting Sam “what’s going on?”

Sighing you looked behind the brothers to find the man staring at you from behind a car “there was a guy at the bar, he freaked me out a little bit I didn’t care too much until he sat staring at me for the last hour so I wanted to leave but he followed us out here” you said, your heart pounding in your chest, Dean got an angry look on his face as he turned searching the parking lot “where the hell is he!” Dean moved to look around finding him quickly, Dean stormed over “hey! The hell do you want jackass? You think you can harass my girlfriend I wouldn’t find out” Dean grabbed the man by his shirt “not my fault she’s a whore man, just wanted a little taste of her sweet p-”Dean didn’t let him finish his sentence before he was released punching him in the face “my nose!” The man yelped but dean wasn’t done yet, Sam was holding you in a hug blocking the fight from your eyes

Once dean was done teaching the man a lesson in how to respect women he walked back over to you and sam “alright he’s down, let’s get back to the motel” Dean said getting in the drivers seat. Once you guys made it back to the motel you followed the brothers back to the room, Sam went into the bathroom leaving you and Dean alone

sighing dean sat on the bed you two would be sharing, he started to wrap his bloody knuckles you let out a shaky breath before sitting beside him and taking his hand “I got it” you said taking out the rubbing alcohol and rubbing it on his wounds, Dean flinched slightly at the sting “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked softly you looked up giving him a small smile “I just didn’t want to bother you, I just didn’t realise how big a creep the guy was till he followed us out” dean nodded “sweetheart if someone or something is ever bothering you I don’t give a rats ass how by or small, you tell me and I will take care of it” you nodded “yeah I will I’m sorry dean” Dean was shaking his head “you have nothing to be sorry for Y/N you did nothing wrong” you wrapped your arms around deans shoulders pulling him to a hug, we wrapped his own around your waist holding you close to him

You pulled away to give him a small kiss, however a small kiss with Dean was never really just a small kiss, this one being no different as Dean was swiping his to tongue along your bottom lip, you parted your lips allowing dean to explore your mouth, you moaned quietly when dean pushed you slightly to lay back on the bed as he moved to lean on top of you as you continued to make out, deans hand was tugging at the hem of your shirt, and just when you were about to take it off the bathroom door opened, the younger Winchester emerged in his pyjama pants and shirt “seriously!” He yelped turning away

Dean sighed moving to stand up “relax Sammy were decent” you chuckled as you moved to get up and get changed in the bathroom, Dean following close behind “seriously don’t guys I don’t want a repeat of the hunt back in Chicago” you giggled “I promise Sammy we’ll keep it PG” you and Dean changed into your sleepwear, Dean sporting the same as sam, minus the shirt, he found them to be annoying when it got too hot in bed, you in a pair of shorts and deans old led zeppelin shirt

When you both emerged from the bathroom Sam was already tucked in for the night, all lights off minus the one in the bathroom, you and Dean made your way to the bed getting in either side Dean quickly grabbed your waist tugging you close enough so you could rest your head on his bare chest and tangle your legs together “we’re definitely getting our own room next hunt” Dean whispered kissing the top of your head, you chuckled at his remark closing your eyes “whatever you say Winchester”

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

lil repost of one of my personal favs from my old account :))

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Hi, I don't know if requests are open but if you can could you do something with one of the Winchester brothers with a male reader who sees ghosts and witnesses supernatural things since early morning?

He sees Dead people

Pairing : Dean Winchester x male Y/N fandom : Supernatural Tags : established relationship, Drabble , fluff Word count : 1007

The fluorescent lights of the diner hummed with a relentless, almost painful buzz, painting the checkered floor and worn vinyl booths in a sickly, clinical glow. Dean, already nursing a nascent headache, attacked his bacon with the single-minded focus of a man trying to outrun his thoughts. This place smelled of stale coffee, frying grease, and regret—basically, home. Sam was methodically spooning oatmeal into his mouth, looking like he regretted every bite. But Dean's attention was snagged by Y/N.

Y/N was staring, fixed and unblinking, at the far corner of the diner, near a dusty, broken jukebox that probably hadn't played a tune in decades. Dean knew that look. It was a faraway, vacant stare that always tightened a knot of apprehension in Dean’s gut. It was the “I’m seeing dead people” look.

It had taken Dean a frustratingly long time to accept Y/N's… abilities. He’d initially dismissed it as a heightened imagination, a side effect of their shared, messed-up life. He’d snorted, rolled his eyes, and made sarcastic remarks about ESP. But Y/N had proven him wrong, time and again. They'd found a poltergeist trashing a pharmacy; Y/N had described the phantom smell of lavender and formaldehyde before they’d even crossed the threshold. He'd located a cursed amulet in an antique shop by simply pointing it out as feeling "cold".

Dean knew the telltale signs now: the glazed-over eyes, the subtle tension around Y/N’s mouth, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. The slight, barely noticeable shift in the way he carried himself. Right now, Y/N was knee-deep in some kind of spectral vision, and Dean hated it.

He glanced at Sam, hoping for backup, but Sam was lost in his book, something dense and academic about Sumerian demons. Figures. Dean sighed inwardly. He'd have to play this carefully.

He needed to break Y/N out of it gently. Startling him could be… unpleasant. He'd seen Y/N recoil from a sudden touch while "in the zone" before, a look of pure, disoriented terror in his eyes that haunted Dean.

Dean leaned back in the booth, adopting a casual posture. "Hey, darlin'!" he boomed, flagging down the waitress with a practiced grin. “Another slice of that apple pie for me, and… uh…” He let his gaze flick back to Y/N, gauging his state. “The usual for my friend here. Pancakes, extra syrup. He's been working up an appetite wrestling… demons". He winked at the waitress, a gesture honed over years of flirting for information and free pie. He knew Y/N's order by heart. It was a small, familiar comfort in a life that was anything but.

He watched Y/N. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension. Dean took a swig of his coffee, wincing at the burnt taste. Damn this place needed better coffee

Finally, Y/N blinked, a slow, deliberate blink that seemed to drag him back to reality. He shook his head slightly, like a dog shaking off water. He turned to Dean, a flicker of apology in his eyes.

"Sorry," Y/N mumbled, raking a hand through his hair, dislodging a few stray strands. "Just… spaced out there for a second."

Dean slid his fresh slice of pie closer to Y/N, a silent offering. "No sweat, man. Happens. Pancakes are on their way. You looked like you could use 'em." He kept his tone light, carefully masking his concern.

Y/N managed a weak smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "Thanks, Dean. Appreciate it." He reached for his coffee, his hand still exhibiting that barely perceptible tremor.

Dean waited until the pancakes arrived, a steaming mountain of golden-brown goodness, and Sam had finally surfaced from his ancient demonology. He watched Y/N attack the pancakes with a subdued hunger, then decided it was time.

"Hey," Dean began, his voice lower now, the jovial facade dropped. "You okay, man? You were staring off into space like you'd seen a ghost… or were about to fight one."

Y/N stopped eating, his fork hovering over the pancakes. He avoided Dean's gaze, focusing on the syrupy mess on his plate.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, but the flatness in his voice screamed otherwise. It was the classic "I'm fine" that meant "I'm anything but, and I don't want to burden you." Dean recognized it instantly.

Dean snorted softly. "Fine? Dude, you looked like you were staring into the abyss. C'mon, Y/N. Talk to me."

Y/N sighed, finally meeting Dean's eyes. There was a weariness there, a shadow of something Dean couldn't quite decipher. "I… I saw something. In the corner, by the jukebox."

"Yeah? What kind of something?" Dean prodded gently, setting down his fork. Sam, catching the shift in tone, looked up, his brow furrowed with concern.

"A woman," Y/N said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just standing there. Pale, dressed in… old-fashioned clothes. Like something out of the '40s or '50s. A dress with pearls. She just stood"

Dean's mind started clicking through possibilities. A ghost, obviously. Probably restless, probably tragic, and given their luck, probably homicidal.

"Did she… say anything? Do anything?" Dean pressed, keeping his voice even.

Y/N shook his head, the movement jerky. "No. Just… staring. Vacant. It was like she was waiting for something, or someone." He shivered, despite the warmth of the diner. "It was… creepy."

Dean studied Y/N's face, searching for any sign of deception. He knew Y/N wouldn't lie outright, but he had a tendency to downplay things, to shield Dean from the full impact of his abilities.

"Okay," Dean said, his voice firm but laced with reassurance. "We'll figure this out. Sam, dust off those history books. Local news archives, disappearances from the '40s and '50s. Let's see who our silent beauty might be." He turned to Y/N, his eyes conveying a mixture of concern and unwavering determination. "We'll find out who she is, and we'll help her move on. Together. In the meantime buddy, eat"

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 15

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 4322

The second you stepped inside the compound, Bucky was off the couch in an instant, eyes lighting up as he crossed the space in a few easy strides. Without a word, he reached out and took the shopping bags from your hands.

“I can take these,” he said softly, as if it was a crime for you to be carrying your own things.

You just smiled, letting him take them, and he immediately turned and walked them over to the kitchen counter, setting them down with care.

When you caught up to him, you held the bag with his pretzel out to him. “Got you something.”

His brows lifted in surprised delight as he took it. “You didn’t have to–”

“I know,” you said, smirking. “But you suffered through a facetime nail consultation. You earned it.”

He smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, doll.”

Then – without even unwrapping it – he gently set the pretzel aside and turned his full attention to you.

“Alright,” he said, holding out both hands. “Let me see ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes fondly but slipped your hands into his. He lifted them carefully, inspecting your nails like they were priceless artifacts.

“You’re joking,” Sam’s voice cut in from the couch.

“Oh my god, he’s actually doing it,” Tony said from across the room, turning his head dramatically to watch.

Bucky ignored them completely, turning your hands slightly under the light.

“They look great,” he said, genuinely impressed. “You picked the perfect color.”

You smiled, cheeks warming just a little as he lifted both your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each one.

Wanda and Nat entered behind you, grinning like proud matchmakers, while the guys groaned theatrically.

“You’re seriously holding her hands and complimenting her manicure?” Sam said. “Who are you?”

Steve just laughed from his seat. “Didn’t you say you were gonna hold her hand for an hour?”

“Oh, we’re setting a timer,” Tony said, already pulling out his phone. “I expect full commitment.”

You snorted, and Bucky just smiled, linking his fingers with yours and finally picking up the pretzel bag with his other hand.

You looked up at him with a teasing smile. “You’re actually holding my hand while you eat a pretzel?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, already opening the bag. “Told you I would.”

Wanda giggled as she passed the couch. “You two are disgusting.”

“I know,” you said, leaning your head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Isn’t it great?”

Bucky took a bite of the pretzel, his eyes closing briefly like it was the best thing he’d eaten all week. “Okay, yeah,” he said through a mouthful. “This was a great idea. You really do love me.”

You laughed. “Told you.”

Still holding your hand in his, he leaned his hip against the counter and glanced over at you. “So, how was girls’ day?”

Before you could answer, Wanda stepped around you and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Oh, we had a great time.”

“A very enlightening time,” Nat added, walking over to lean against the island.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and looked back at you. “Should I be concerned?”

You tried to stifle your smile. “Only if you’re scared of nail polish, shopping, and soft pretzels.”

“I’m not,” he said, taking another bite. “But I am scared of that look Nat’s giving me.”

Nat smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re not saying anything.”

Wanda raised her water bottle and added with a playful tone, “We just heard some interesting things, that’s all.”

That, of course, got the attention of every man in the room.

Sam sat up straighter. “Wait – what did you hear?”

Tony looked up from his tablet. “Hold on. Who said what now?”

Steve frowned slightly. “Girls’ day secrets?”

“Oh, so many secrets,” Wanda said, sipping her water.

Nat grinned, eyes glinting. “But they’re not for boys.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do this. Don’t dangle information.”

Tony pointed dramatically between the three of you. “I know someone spilled something juicy. I can feel it.”

You lifted your hand that Bucky wasn’t holding. “I said nothing.”

“That’s true,” Wanda said sweetly. “We asked questions. She simply answered.”

“And we’re women of our word,” Nat added.

Bucky chuckled and nudged your side with his elbow. “Guess I’ll have to bribe it out of you later.”

You just raised an eyebrow, giving him a mock-serious look. “You already got a pretzel and held my hand. That’s your reward.”

He leaned in slightly. “Not even for a hint?”

Nat and Wanda both laughed as they walked toward the hallway, still smug.

“Nice try, Barnes,” Nat called over her shoulder.

“It’s a girls’ secret,” Wanda added.

Tony threw his arms up. “We have no rights in this house.”

Sam leaned back dramatically on the couch. “I hate it here.”

Bucky just kept smiling, eyes never leaving yours as he took another bite of his pretzel.

“Girls’ secret, huh?” he murmured, licking salt off his thumb. “Guess I’ll just have to earn your trust.”

You leaned in, grinning. “Good luck.”

Once Bucky finished the last bite of his pretzel, he glanced at the shopping bags still sitting on the kitchen counter.

“C’mon,” he said, already reaching for them. “Let’s get this stuff upstairs.”

You started to grab your purse, but he was already on it, sliding the strap over his shoulder and gathering up the rest of your bags like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You know I can carry some of it, right?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he replied easily. “But why would you need to?”

The two of you started walking toward the hallway, the boys started up again.

“Look at this!” Sam shouted. “Hand-holding and bag-carrying. I give it two days before she’s got him in an apron.”

“He’s already emotionally domesticated,” Tony said, standing up from the couch and pulling out his phone. “I’m documenting this. Don’t worry, Barnes. I’ll tag it ‘Boyfriend of the Year.’”

Bucky didn’t even glance back. “Make sure you get my good side.”

You just laughed and leaned a little closer to him, whispering, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously helpful,” he whispered back, giving your hand a little squeeze.

Tony snapped a picture as you rounded the hallway corner, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

When you reached your room, Bucky opened the door for you, then stepped inside and set all the bags carefully in front of your bed. He handed you your purse and gave your hand one more squeeze before letting go.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Show me what you got.”

You grinned and started unpacking.

“Okay,” you said, pulling out the new purse first. “Cute, right?”

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly like he was actually evaluating it. “Yeah, I like the little buckle thing.”

Next came two t-shirts – one soft pink, the other white with tiny flowers near the collar.

“Both are adorable,” he said, already walking closer.

Then you held up two pairs of sweatpants – one a light gray and the other a deep navy blue. “Comfy mission debrief pants,” you joked.

He smiled, eyes warm. “You’re gonna look good in all of it.”

You were just about to fold the t-shirts when Bucky walked past you, opened your desk drawer, and pulled out your scissors.

Then, without a word, he knelt down by the bags and started cutting off tags one by one, smoothing each item neatly as he went.

You blinked. “Are you…cutting the tags off?”

He glanced up briefly. “Yeah.”

“Y’know I didn’t ask you to this time.”

“I know.”

You were about to respond when your gaze drifted toward the corner of the room – and froze.

Your laundry basket. Empty. Back in its usual spot.

You looked back at him slowly. “Wait…did you put all my laundry away too?”

He just nodded, like it was obvious. “Yeah. You were gone on your girls’ day.”

You stared at him for a moment, chest tightening with affection. Then you stepped over to where he was still crouched, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind.

“I really do love you,” you whispered.

His hands gently found your arms, holding them where they wrapped around him.

“I know,” he said quietly, with a small smile. “I really love you too.”

After hugging Bucky, you pulled back just slightly and glanced at the door.

“I’m changing,” you said casually, walking over to close it with a quiet click.

Bucky didn’t move, still kneeling and folding the shopping bags neatly, stacking them on the edge of your desk.

You turned away from him just enough to be teasing, peeling off your fitted top and shimmying out of your jeans like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You reached for one of his sweatshirts and tugged it on over your head, the hem falling to your thighs. Then, you grabbed a pair of shorts from your drawer and stepped into them before stretching your arms above your head with a satisfied sigh.

Bucky was quiet, but when you glanced over your shoulder, he was definitely watching – mouth twitching like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

You smirked. “Enjoying the show, soldier?”

He stood up, brushing his hands off. “Just admiring my hoodie in its natural habitat.”

You laughed and padded into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup remover and a cotton pad. As you started to wipe off the light makeup you’d put on earlier, you caught his reflection in the mirror.

There he was again – leaning in the doorway like he lived there, arms crossed, eyes warm, completely transfixed.

“You have got to get a hobby,” you said, not even trying to hide your smile.

“This is my hobby,” he replied without missing a beat.

You snorted softly and finished wiping off the last of your mascara, rinsing your face and patting it dry with a towel. Then you turned toward him and walked right up, slipping your arms around the back of his neck.

“You’re whipped,” you whispered playfully.

“You’re a brat,” he murmured back, leaning in.

You kissed him – soft and slow, just enough to make your chest flutter – before pulling away with a small smile.

Then, you walked over to your bed and flopped face-first onto it with a muffled groan.

Bucky chuckled behind you as you stretched your arms out like a starfish. He walked over and sat down against the headboard, his hand brushing over your back as he settled in.

You shifted again, flipping onto your side and stretching one leg across the bed while resting your head on his thigh, your arms tucked under you.

“So tired,” you mumbled. “Too much walking. Too much socializing. My feet are angry.”

Bucky gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Want me to carry you everywhere tomorrow?”

You let out a laugh. “I’d say no…but I’d be lying.”

He smiled, his hand continuing to move slowly through your hair.

“Then it's settled,” he said. “Starting tomorrow, I’m your personal chauffeur. No more walking. Ever.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Perfect boyfriend behavior.”

“Best in the business.”

You let out a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering closed as Bucky’s fingers lazily traced through your hair.

“Hey,” he said softly, after a few minutes of quiet. “What exactly did you tell them today?”

You cracked one eye open, lips quirking. “You sure you wanna know?”

He raised an eyebrow, still looking down at you. “I mean…if it’s gonna come back to haunt me later, I’d at least like to be prepared.”

You hummed, stretching your legs slightly before settling again. “Okay. So…they asked about the kiss. The first one.”

His fingers paused, then kept moving again. “Mmm. You tell them how you walked out in just your bra and nearly killed me?”

You grinned, eyes closed again. “Yep. Told them I made you cut the tags and everything. They were shocked. Especially when I told them I kissed you.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Bold move, doll.”

“Right?” you said proudly, then sighed again. “But then…I kinda slipped.”

“Slipped?” he asked, glancing down again.

“I wasn’t gonna tell them about last night,” you said, voice a little quieter now. “But I kinda implied something without realizing it…and they cornered me.”

He was quiet for a second. “You told them?”

“Yeah,” you said, shifting slightly to look up at him. “I told them everything. I’m sorry. I just – it sort of came out. And I figured it was better to tell them than lie about it.”

He blinked at you, then shook his head. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” you asked, surprised.

“Nah,” he said, giving you a small smile. “As long as they don’t tell the guys. I will never hear the end of it if Sam finds out I said ‘say it, baby.’”

You burst out laughing, hiding your face in his thigh. “Oh my god. How’d you know I told them that part?”

“I know them. Of course they got to that part,” he muttered, rubbing your back gently.

“They also asked if you said anything hot and–” you started to say, giggling, “–I may have told them about the ‘you’re doing so good for me’ and ‘that’s my girl’ moments.”

He groaned. “Fantastic.”

“They blushed,” you said, smug. “Blushed.”

“That’s not a win for me,” he said, though he was smiling.

You were quiet for another moment before you added, “They also asked about, like, labels.”

His hand slowed again, and he shifted slightly. “Oh?”

You looked up at him, resting your chin lightly on his thigh. “Yeah. Wanda was shocked we hadn’t talked about it. Nat asked if we were planning our wedding already.”

He chuckled. “Of course she did.”

“I told them no. That we hadn’t talked about it. But then I said maybe you just assumed we were dating already.”

He tilted his head, giving you a soft but amused look. “You’re not wrong.”

“And then Nat said if I asked you ‘what are we,’ you’d probably just look at me like I was crazy.”

He blinked. “Because I would. That’s a stupid question.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I mean…” He reached down, brushing his fingers across your cheek. “We’re…us. I hold your hand, you steal my clothes, we sleep tangled up together, and we’re apparently telling people we love each other in front of the entire team.”

You tried to hold back your smile, but it broke through anyway.

“But,” he continued, voice softer now, “if you want me to make it official…”

You sat up a bit, propping yourself on one elbow.

“I do,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your heart was already beating faster.

Bucky reached down, gently threading your fingers with his. “Then, will you be my girlfriend?”

You bit your lip, nodding. “Yeah. I already kinda thought I was.”

He grinned. “Then we’re on the same page.”

You laid back down across his lap, pulling his hand with you and resting it against your chest.

“I love this page.”

“Me too,” he said, squeezing your hand.

After a few minutes, you had settled into a casual conversation about something random when you felt Bucky’s phone buzz in his pocket.

He shifted a little to pull it out, and you glanced at the screen as he unlocked it – and froze.

His lock screen was the picture the others took of you and him cuddling on the couch, your face buried in his shoulder, his head tilted slightly down toward yours, both of you tucked into the blanket.

You quickly sat up and looked at him, eyes wide. He finished reading the text from Steve, then looked over at you.

“What?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“You changed your lock screen?” you asked in disbelief.

“Oh,” he said, starting to laugh. “No, Sam changed it earlier when I went to the bathroom. After I dropped the ‘love you.’”

You laughed, then raised an eyebrow at him. “And you didn’t change it back?”

“No, don’t know how.”

You just laughed, shaking your head. “You’re such a grandpa. Here,” you said, holding out your hand, “I can change it back for you.”

He just looked at you like you were crazy. “Why would I change it back? That’s my favorite picture.”

You stopped laughing, heart fluttering at what he’d just said. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving you a soft smile. “You look so peaceful – like you feel safe with me.”

Your heart tugged at his words. He’s probably not used to anyone feeling safe around him, especially with the metal arm, so of course he would like this picture – you wrapped up in both of his arms, fast asleep, looking peaceful as ever.

You just smiled at him, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder and hooking your arm through his.

“Of course I feel safe with you,” you said, glancing up at him. “I don’t think I’d feel this safe with anyone else.”

He just gave you a bigger smile and kissed your forehead. “Well, good.”

You let go of his arm and climbed off the bed, crossing the room and pulling your phone out of your purse. You made your way back over to the bed, plopping down next to Bucky as you opened up your settings.

“Well if you’re changing you lock screen, then I have to change mine,” you said, scrolling to find your favorite picture.

“Wait, go back,” Bucky said, pointing at your phone.

You looked up at him, then scrolled back up.

“There,” he said, clicking on a picture – the picture you took of him at the mall, in line for pretzels, holding your purse and all your bags.

“I didn’t even know you took this,” he said, eyes wide. “You didn’t send this to anyone, did you?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it slowly spread across your face and Bucky groaned.

“It was just Nat and Wanda,” you said, holding your hands up innocently. “It was so cute, I had too.”

He just sighed and shook his head, then raised an eyebrow at you. “You better not send it to anyone else.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly. Then, you smirked at him. “Well…as long as you’re good.”

Bucky just sighed again. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

You just gave him an innocent smile. “I think I’ve been told once or twice.”

He just shook his head as you closed the picture and continued scrolling, looking for your favorite.

You found it and clicked on it, the picture filling up the screen. It was the one of Bucky giving you a piggy-back ride in the training room, your arms wrapped around his neck and your faces pressed together, smiling like crazy.

You smiled, glancing up at Bucky. “That’s a good one,” he said, smiling back at you.

You set it, then shut off your phone just to turn it back on, showing your new lock screen.

“There,” you said, satisfied. “Now if anyone checks, they’ll know we’re disgustingly into each other.”

“As if they didn’t already know,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just laughed as you set your phone off to the side on your nightstand. But the second you did, both you and Bucky’s phone buzzed at the same time. You both grabbed your phones, opening up the message in the group chat from Tony.

Everyone. Conference room. Now.

You and Bucky exchanged a confused look.

“Did we miss a meeting?” you asked.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, already pushing himself off the bed.

You both made your way out of your room and down the hallway. As you turned the corner near the elevators, you spotted Steve and Nat walking in from the other side, both wearing the same slightly puzzled expression.

“What’s going on?” you asked them as the elevator doors slid open.

“No idea,” Steve said. “Tony just sent the message and ended the call he was on. Wouldn’t say anything else.”

“That’s never a good sign,” Nat muttered.

By the time you got to the conference room, the rest of the team was filtering in too – Sam, Wanda, Clint, Bruce, even Rhodey had shown up somehow. Everyone looked equally confused and mildly concerned.

Tony was already at the front of the room, standing beside a blank screen, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Alright, Stark,” Sam said as he dropped into a chair. “What’s the emergency?”

“There better not be another alien species knocking,” Clint muttered, flopping into a chair.

Bucky held the door open for you and then followed behind, settling into the chair beside yours.

Then Tony clapped his hands once. “Okay, people, good news! No world-ending events today.”

“That’s…comforting?” Steve offered.

“But,” Tony continued, grabbing the remote with dramatic flair, “what we do have is pizza on the way and a very special presentation. One I’ve been working on in my spare time.”

You and Bucky both sat up straighter.

“No,” Bucky said flatly.

“Tony–” you warned, already feeling your face heat up.

But it was too late.

The projector screen lit up, and the first image appeared: a dark, blurry picture from the security cams of you and Bucky, standing in the kitchen. It took a second, but you finally realized – it was the first night you met.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

Tony turned toward the screen like a proud curator. “I present to you…A Study in Domesticity: The Barnes-Rom-Com Chronicles.”

Laughter exploded around the table as the next slide popped up – a picture of you and Bucky, standing in the doorway to this very meeting room, you swimming in Bucky’s clothes after you showered in his room. You didn’t even know he took that picture. Then, the shot of Bucky carrying you down the hallway after you fell asleep during Tangled.

You stared at the screen, mouth open. “You actually made a PowerPoint?”

“Oh, there’s transitions,” Tony said proudly.

The next slide: the picture of you guys asleep on the couch.

There was picture after picture, a majority of them candid pictures that you didn’t even realize he was taking.

And you hated to admit it, but it was pretty cute.

“And this,” Tony said, flipping to the next slide, the video of you guys making out in the elevator – “is when we knew.”

Nat burst out laughing. “This is amazing.”

“This is harassment,” you said weakly, trying not to laugh.

“Oh no,” Tony said with a grin. “This is love.”

The final slide came up – a slow zoom-in of the piggy-back ride picture, now complete with sparkles and a heart-shaped transition.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bucky groaned, half-hiding his face in his hands. “You have too much time on your hands.”

“You’re both welcome,” Tony said, setting the remote down. “Because this is the best subplot the Avengers have had in years.”

Everyone else was laughing and teasing you, sure, but underneath it all, there were real smiles. Wanda whispered something to Nat, who just nodded knowingly. Steve looked like he was trying not to be overly sentimental, and even Sam – as much as he was cackling – was grinning like a proud best man.

Eventually, the laughter began to taper off, the relentless teasing settling into occasional chuckles and fond glances.

“Alright,” Steve said, shaking his head as the screen finally went dark. “That was…something.”

“Better than the mission briefings,” Clint added, stretching his arms overhead.

Tony waved a hand. “You’re welcome. I expect an Oscar nomination for Best Picture.”

That’s when the door opened, and the sweet, heavenly scent of fresh pizza swept into the room like a peace offering from the universe itself.

“Finally,” Sam said, already on his feet. “I was starting to think this slideshow was dinner.”

Everyone got up at once, forming a semi-chaotic but strangely cooperative line at the side table as boxes were opened and slices were claimed. The hum of chatter picked back up, louder now with everyone standing, grabbing drinks, and swapping stories.

You and Bucky took your plates and returned to your seats next to each other.

A few minutes later, you were finishing the last bite of your slice when Bucky leaned in a little, his voice low near your ear.

“Want another piece?” he asked.

You nodded, still chewing. “Yeah, I could go for one more.”

Before you could tell him which kind, he was already standing, taking your plate with him without a word.

A few minutes later, Bucky returned and set your plate in front of you with the exact slice you were craving.

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Okay, that’s kind of freaky.”

He just smirked and sat back down beside you, like it was nothing.

The second he did, the groaning started.

“Oh, come on,” Sam muttered.

“Of course he got it right,” Clint said, not even looking up.

“I’m not even surprised anymore,” Nat added, reaching for another napkin. “This is just…who they are now.”

“Pizza soulmates,” Tony said, raising his glass in mock toast. “May your toppings always align.”

You just rolled your eyes, cheeks warm but smiling. “You guys act like that’s not completely normal.”

“It is,” Wanda said sweetly, glancing between the two of you. “For people who are obviously in love.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “Guess we’re just obvious now.”

You met his gaze with a grin. “Guess so.”

Everyone kept eating, laughing, and sharing stories as the night wore on. And as chaotic as it had started, there was something quietly perfect about how it ended – with full stomachs, full hearts, and no one even bothering to pretend they didn’t love watching the two of you be exactly who you were:

Completely, disgustingly into each other.

And honestly? You kind of loved it, too.

--

Part 16 | Masterlist

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