runawrites-blog

[runawrites-blog]

Hi 😊

May I ask for dbh connor x reader? Connor is a deviant already, humans and androids are living in harmony now. Well, connor and reader are at the outdoor swimming pool and Connor sees reader for the first time in a cute bikini.

Bikini (Connor x Reader)

Summary: On a warm summer's day, you take Connor to the pool and he sees you in a bikini for the first time. (Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 1,187 Warnings: Body Inclusive (No Body Shape or Skin Colour Mentioned). Connor Is Absolutely Smitten. Fluff. No Gendered Pronouns Used. Reader Wears A Bikini. No Y/N. Petnames (Love) A/N: Thank you so much for your request. I'm sorry it took me a bit to finish this but I really hope you like it regardless! 🤍 Reader's skin colour, body shape, hair etc. aren't mentioned. There are no gendered pronouns used; only that the reader wears a bikini and that it accentuates every curve of their body.

---

The sun was shining, casting its warmth across Connor’s skin as he leaned his head back, enjoying the first rays of sunshine after a long winter and stormy spring. Despite not needing to, he was more than ready to soak in this warmth, together with you, his new partner. You had long since become a constant in his life and not long after the peaceful revolution that gave androids their rights, you two had become a couple. On this particular day, you had asked him to come to the public pool with you and he had quickly agreed to it, liking the idea of enjoying the nice weather.

While you had gone to change he had begun setting up by the water, placing part of the big towel you had brought in the shade of the nearby tree, so you could have some refuge from the sun should it become too much. When he was satisfied with his placement of the towel he set the water cooler down on the edge to secure it before reaching for his bag and beginning to dig around for the sunscreen he had packed for you. While he was certain you’d remembered to put on sunscreen before coming he also knew you’d have to reapply after a few hours, especially after going in the water.

He was so busy getting out the bottle of sunscreen from his bag that he didn’t notice you’d come back from the changing rooms until he heard you call out to him. That made him turn to look at you as he opened his mouth to speak. “You probably already applied sunscreen but I have brought some with me, so you can reapply some in a few hours and--“

Connor stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes caught sight of you, and he couldn’t help his mouth fall open at what he was seeing. You had told him about buying a new bikini, had gushed about how it was such a lovely cut, how it was your favourite colour and how great it looked, but now that he saw it in natura, he was speechless.

The fabric hugged your figure just right, accentuating every curve of your body, and the colour complemented your skin tone perfectly. He immediately understood all the appraising things you had said about the bikini, and he had to say he was maybe even happier than you that you had found it.

“You’re staring, Con.”

He blinked a few times, eyes drifting upwards, and it made him realise that he had been letting them rake over your body up until now which he was sure you’d noticed just as much as his staring. Warmth rushed to his cheeks, dusting them in a blue hue, as he cleared his throat and gave you an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Love. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or objectified.”

“Connor, you’re alright.” You smiled softly and came closer, taking his hands into yours and squeezing them tightly. “I don’t feel uncomfortable, let alone objectified. If anything, I feel flattered.”

“Flattered?”

“Yes, it’s flattering to think that you like how my new bikini looks on me so much that you can’t stop staring.” You explained with an amused tone in your voice before you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Besides that, you’re my boyfriend, Con. You’re allowed to stare.”

Connor felt relief wash over him and gave you a gentle smile, allowing his eyes to rake down your body again. “Then I must say, you look absolutely breathtaking. I understand why you were praising the bikini so much ever since you bought it.”

“Thank you, Connor.” Feeling heat rise in your chest at his compliments, you briefly averted his eyes before letting them flicker over his body, merely clad in light blue swimming shorts. “You look very good yourself.”

“You think so? I must say, I’m not very knowledgeable on human swimwear trends, so I was not quite sure what to get.”

The heat in your chest dissipated into an affectionate warmth that spread throughout your whole body at his words, making a soft smile appear on your features. “You look very handsome, don’t worry. Besides, you can wear what you feel comfortable in, regardless of trends.”

“Thank you, Love.” Connor gave your hand a tight squeeze before nodding at the big outdoor pool a little further away from the tree he had set up under. “Do you want to go for a swim? Or would you like to rest up before we go in the water? I did pack snacks for you to eat and even some Thirium-based drinks, so I can partake in our meal.”

He watched the smile on your face only grow as you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You are always so prepared, Con. But it’s pretty warm out today, and after the car trip here, I’d like to cool off. Would you mind helping me put sunscreen on my back? I did apply it everywhere else already but I can’t really reach my back.”

“Of course.” Connor nodded, eager to assist you and while you sat down on the blanket, he pulled the bottle of sunscreen he’d brought from his bag. “Lean forward for me a little bit, Love.”

As you leaned forward, legs crossed and elbows resting on your thighs, he began to apply the sunscreen to your bag, making sure to warm it up on his hands before doing so. Gently and ever so carefully, he let his hands stroke over the expanse of your back, up to your neck and all the way down to your hips. He made sure that he was missing no spot as he massaged the sunscreen into your skin, smiling softly at the goosebumps that rose across your body at his gentle touches. And when he was done, he leaned forward to kiss the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“Anything for you, Love.” He said gently before withdrawing and standing, rounding your body to offer you a hand. “Let’s go down to the water, alright?”

You smiled, taking his hand, and he pulled you to his feet and into his body, using his strength as an adroid to do so with ease. His hand left yours and snuck around your waist, pulling you closer and into a gentle kiss which you quickly reciprocated, your hands finding the sides of his face and making him against your lips. When you pulled back, a bright smile on your lips, he couldn’t help the affectionate expression that crossed his face.

“I’m very glad we got to meet.”

“So am I, Connor.” You whispered back, leaning into his body and smiling at him so brightly that he swore it rivalled the blazing summer sun. “Come on now. Let’s get into the water.”

“I will be right behind you.”

“You know, I’m really glad we get to spend this day here together.”

“You cannot imagine how glad I am about that.”

“Now you’re getting sentimental on me.”

“I can't help it. I love you a lot.”

“And I love you, Connor.”

[runawrites-blog]

Obvious Secrets (Bruno Madrigal x Reader)

Summary: How all of the members of the Madrigal family found out that you and Bruno were a couple, and how they took it. (Gender-Neutral Reader/ No Pronouns for Reader) Word Count: 6,539 Warnings: Mild Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Mild Angst. Crying. Mild Suggested Sexual Situations (Making Out). No Y/N. No Pronouns used for Reader. Petnames (Mi Amor) A/N: I uploaded this on AO3 years ago but people there loved it to the point where it's one of my most read and commented on works, and I recently stumbled across it again, so since I have this account no,w I decided to share it here. I mean, this movie is almost four years old and I don't know if the fandom is even still active but I wanted to share it nonetheless. The reader is kept gender neutral, with no gendered pronouns being used. Bruno calls the reader "mi amor" since I didn't know which other gender-neutral Spanish term of endearment to use. I hope you enjoy nonetheless ^^ Cross-Posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35975719

---

I.

Being able to talk to animals surely came in useful for Antonio on many occasions. One of them was talking to Bruno’s rats and asking them to sneak him some sweets from the kitchen, even after his mother had told him not to eat any before dinner. But Antonio snuck out of his room and to the kitchen, quietly talking to the rats.

They ran in front of him, willing to help him get some of the sweets from the top shelves. Though as soon as Antonio entered the kitchen, all sweets and snacks were forgotten, overshadowed by the sight in front of him.

His tío Bruno was kissing his mother’s best friend. He’d met you many times before. You were a childhood friend of his mother, his aunt and his uncle. And apparently, you were also in love with his uncle. Antonio couldn’t help but loudly proclaim his disgust as he saw his uncle wrap his arms around you to bring you closer as he kissed you.

That got both of your attention and you quickly separated. Bruno went bright red, fumbling around with his hands as he stumbled over his explanations. You were shocked but slowly you approached Antonio. He watched as you crouched down to get to his eye level. “Hey there, Tonito, did you need anything?”

Antonio eyed you for a few seconds, contemplating whether or not he should ask you for sweets. But his curiosity about why you were kissing his tío overruled and he shook his head. “Why were you kissing tío Bruno?”

Bruno jumped into action, coming closer and getting to his knees next to you to be on eye level with Antonio as well. “Tonito, you see sometimes people really-- I mean, you know that your mother’s best friend is--”

You could tell he was getting nervous by his stumbling over words and fumbling with the hem of his shirt, so you spoke up, smiling gently. “My love, deep breaths. Antonio is just confused, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Antonio nodded, eyeing you. “Are you in love?”

“See? He immediately understood.” You smiled and nodded at Antonio. “Your tío and I are in love and we’re a couple. That’s why we were kissing.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense!” Antonio said with a bright smile but he was still confused as to why Bruno was so nervous. “But, tío, isn’t that a good thing? Why are you nervous?”

“Your tío is just a bit worried how the rest of the family will react to him being in a relationship with his sisters’ best friend.” You chuckled and stood up again, gently pulling Bruno up with you by the hand. “We will tell them soon.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them!” Antonio grinned up at the two of you. “But can I get some sweets now?”

“What did your mother say?” Bruno asked quietly. “We’re having dinner soon.”

“She said not to get any.” Antonio mumbled and sighed. “She said I’d spoil my appetite.”

Bruno nodded but nonetheless reached for the little jar above the sink. “Just a bit, though, not enough to spoil your appetite.”

“Thank you, tío Bruno!”

---

II.

Agustín pretty much expected you to show up when he yelled in pain as a branch broke off the tree and hit his head. He’d been trying to chop wood while you had been sweeping the walkway up to the casita when he’d hit the tree behind him. Immediately, you were on your way, broom clattering to the floor to see if he was fine. He just knew that as soon as Julieta was back from town, you would tell her about his accident, so she could make something to heal him.

“I’m fine!” He exclaimed, rubbing his head. “Go back to sweeping. I just hit my head.”

“No way.” You said and grabbed his arm to lower it. “Let me at least get a look at it. We can get you some ice until Julieta gets back.”

“Must you always tell her when I hurt myself?”

“She’s my best friend. I wouldn’t lie to her. She worries.” You explained before chuckling a little. “You’re my friend, too, you know? I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

“Then you shouldn’t have befriended someone so clumsy.”

You just laughed at that and went back to examining his head, muttering to yourself about how he was bleeding a little though luckily, you quickly concluded that it was nothing major and just some scarring. But before either of you could do anything else, the doors opened and Bruno slithered onto the walkway, looking around frantically. When he spotted you, sitting by Agustín, fingers coated in blood, he quickly hurried over.

Although you tried to explain the situation Bruno was at your side in an instant. Agustín watched in surprise as his brother-in-law grabbed your wrist to examine your fingers, worry spreading across his face.

“Mi amor, where are you bleeding?” He asked, looking at you with wide, scared eyes. “Let me-- I think, we should get you inside and hope that Julieta comes back quickly. Just stay calm, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

“Bruno, I’m fine. This--”

“I’ll take care of you.” He promised once more, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, careful to avoid the blood at your fingertips. “Come along.”

“That’s not my blood.” You said quickly, putting a hand on top of his. “Agustín hurt himself. He got hit by a branch and it scraped his neck. I was about to get him some ice until your sister gets back.”

“Oh.”

“Mi amor?” Agustín piped up, confusion lacing his voice as he eyed both you and Bruno. “And a kiss on the hand? Are you in a relationship?”

This time Bruno answered, sighing softly. “No way of hiding it now. We are a couple; we have been for a few months now. We just-- There never was the right time to bring it up with everything that has been going on.”

“I’m so happy for you two!”

---

III.

It wasn’t a rarity that Dolores was inconvenienced by her gift. Hearing everything all the time was overwhelming and she had never really liked intruding on people’s privacy. Of course, Dolores listened in to conversations, gossiped a bit and used her gift to find out small secrets. But to completely intrude on someone’s privacy, to listen in to them during an intimate moment, to find out an actual secret or to hear a serious conversation, was something else.

So when she heard you and Bruno in the next room, she quickly decided to try and tune you out. Now that the casita had been rebuilt, everyone had kept their rooms small and close to each other, not wanting vast spaces to separate them. So it was no rarity to hear someone talking in one of the other rooms.

She listened in for a few seconds but the two of you were being quiet and you had even instructed Bruno to try and keep it down, to try and keep whatever was happening a secret. So Dolores figured that it was really something important that no one should be listening in on. But it was far from easy not to listen in on you because what you were talking about was far too interesting.

“My love, we need to quiet.” You were chastising Bruno after he had apparently knocked into some piece of furniture, resulting in a rather loud crashing sound. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m alright. Just hit my shin.” Bruno answered, voice low and quiet. “I didn’t-- Did I kill the mood? I’m so sorry, I--”

“Hush.” You said gently before the sound of the bed creaking could be heard. “Now relax. Let me take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you? I mean, isn’t that--”

“No, let me take care of you, you lovely thing.”

Dolores had gone quiet in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mouth falling open. She knew you and Bruno were close, friends even, but the way you talked to each other made your relationship seem far more intimate than that of two friends.

“Mi amor, kiss me.”

Bruno’s words made Dolores sit up straight in her bed. You two were lovers. Now, all the sneaking around and whispering she had heard before was making sense. The sound of kissing ripped her from her thoughts once again.

“Enough kisses?” Your voice came through the wall with an air of teasing to it. “Or do you want more?”

“More, please.”

“More what?”

“Anything.”

Dolores was now contemplating telling the two of you that she could hear you. Surely, that would be the better option. Or perhaps she should simply go downstairs to give you some privacy. But she knew that Julieta and Pepa were still there. They’d probably wonder why Dolores, who had been complaining about being tired all evening, was now up and about again.

Bruno’s quiet moan, followed by more creaking and him whimpering your name, made her decide quickly, though. She was out of her bed in a second, hurrying over to Bruno’s room before knocking on the door.

“Tío Bruno?”

The noise inside stopped and a few hushed mumbles were heard that Dolores made a conscious effort to ignore before he spoke up inside. “Dolores? You can come inside. Are you alright?”

Slowly, she creaked open the door to find you and Bruno sitting in his bed, covers pulled over your legs as he held a pillow to his chest and you eyed her in slight embarrassment.

“I just-- I wanted to let you know that I totally support your relationship. But I can hear every word you say in here.”

“I want the ground to swallow me.” Bruno whispered and let himself fall back onto the bed, throwing his pillow onto his face and groaning in embarrassment.

“Wouldn’t you rather have the walls swallow you up?” You chuckled a little at his dramatic reaction before turning to Dolores. “I’m sorry. We’ll be quiet now.”

“Thanks.” She smiled before looking back at Bruno. “And just so you know, I totally love that you two are a couple!”

---

IV.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Luisa?”

Luisa just nodded at Mirabel, trying to keep her hurt feelings hidden. The insults thrown at her by an unpleased newcomer in town shouldn’t have hurt her so much but they did. Yet, Luisa really didn’t want to burden her little sister, so she tried to leave.

“I’m fine. I was just called to help someone.” She said with a forced smile. “Didn’t you hear? It was the nice older man who always gives me pastries when I help him.”

Mirabel nodded slowly. “Just don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, Luisa was gone, heading out of town toward the older man’s house. But as soon as she was out of sight, she changed directions, hurrying to the nearby river. There was a small clearing near the river, just down a beaten path that she would use to get away from people. Butterflies flew around the clearing and the stream would trickle calmly in the distance. She regularly went there, enjoyed the calm and sorted through her feelings.

It was surprising when she made it down the path and found the spot occupied, though. And by none other than her uncle, as well as her mother and aunt’s best friend. More surprisingly was that they were kissing each other, his hands roaming your body and you stroking his face lovingly. Luisa tried to step away, not wanting to intrude but when she stepped onto a branch, breaking it with a loud snap, the two of you looked up.

“Not again.” Bruno groaned in embarrassment as he pulled the hood of his ruana over his head. “Luisa, how much did you see?”

“Tío Bruno, are you two a couple?”

“So you saw us kissing.” You concluded before looking back at Bruno. “We can cross Luisa off the list of people who don’t know.”

Bruno chuckled at that, slowly peaking out from under the hood, obviously comforted by your words before he turned to Luisa. “We are a couple. But could you not tell anyone and let us tell them in our own time?”

“Sure.” Luisa nodded before she came closer. “It’s a little funny that you two find my hiding spot.”

“Your hiding spot?”

“I come here when people are too much.”

She watched her uncle’s face fall as he stood up. “And now you’re here. What happened?”

“A woman was really rude and-- and made some mean comments.” Luisa sniffled quietly. “I’m sorry. Sometimes it gets too much and I need to-- to cry.”

“Hey, we get that.” You said softly, standing up to place a hand on her back. “We all need to cry sometimes. I cry, as well, when things get too much. Just ask your tío. He always freaks out when I cry.”

“I do.”

Luisa laughed at that before wiping her eyes. “Thank you. I promise I’ll keep quiet.”

“Thank you, Luisa.”

---

V.

“Careful, it’s spikey!”

“Ouch!”

“Tío, I told you to be careful!”

Bruno nodded, bringing his bleeding finger to his mouth to suck on it. “I know.”

You looked up from your book as he heard the commotion. “Are you quite alright, Bruno? Want me to take a look at it? Should I get Julieta?”

Isabela eyed Bruno and then looked back at you. “I’ll get my mother. Can you watch him for a few seconds while I go get her?”

“Watch me?” Bruno said with a chuckle, looking at his niece. “You say that as if I can’t look after myself, Isa.”

“Coming from the man who pricked his fingers on an obviously spikey cactus, even after I warned him not to touch it.” She raised an eyebrow at him, amused by her uncle’s antics. “Can you let your friend watch you, please?”

“I’ll watch him.” You said with a smile. “Go get, Julieta.”

Isabela gave you a thankful nod before hurrying off. She made it a few metres before realising that she had no idea where her mother had gone, so she quickly turned back around to tell the two of you that it would take a bit longer than anticipated. But when she got back to the doorway, about to round it, she stopped because she heard the two of you speak in a completely different way than before.

“Does it hurt, my love?” You asked gently and as Isabela peeked around the corner, she could see you gently cradling her uncle’s hand. “Need me to kiss it better?”

“I’m fine.” Bruno said in amusement before leaning in a little closer. “But I could never turn down your kisses, mi amor.”

“Sappy.” You laughed before quickly bringing his finger to your face and kissing it gently, careful to avoid the wound and blood. “Better?”

Bruno chuckled a little. “Are you sure you don’t have a magical gift? Your kisses could heal me in seconds.”

Isabela had to suppress the urge to groan at the cheesiness of that phrase. Fortunately, you seemed to share her sentiment because you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“You can be so sappy. But I love you.”

“I love you, too, mi amor.”

Isabela then decided to make herself known but she failed to realise that her just coming into the room without warning would startle you. So when she rounded the corner, you nearly jumped off your chair, quickly dropping Bruno’s hand.

“Isabela, you’re really quiet!” You laughed off your shock and shook your head. “Did you find Julieta?”

“Since when are you dating my uncle?”

“Have you listened to us?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt the sappy comments.” Isabela said teasingly before nodding. “But no, I didn’t find Julieta. I came to tell you it might take a bit longer to find her than expected.”

“We’ll wait here.”

Bruno looked back and forth between the two of you. “Are you-- Is no one going to talk about the elephant in the room here?”

“You can date whoever you want as long as you’re happy.” Isabela said with a smile. “And you seem happy.”

“I am.”

“Then I’m glad you two are together.” Isabela said in earnest before looking down at Bruno’s hand. “But right now, I need to find Julieta.”

---

VI.

“Camilo, stop it.”

Camilo smirked at his uncle’s complaint and turned back into you. He knew teasing his uncle was mean but he figured since it was all in good fun, there’d be no harm done. After all, he was sure everyone – including you – knew about Bruno’s crush by now. So on a boring, rainy afternoon, he had decided to annoy his uncle.

Now Bruno was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to read while Camilo jumped around him, shifting back and forth between his own form and yours, urging his uncle to confess his love to you.

“But why? You should confess your love to your friend!”

“Will you cut it out?”

“I’m sure your friend will be thrilled to have you confess and--”

“What’s going on in here?

Camilo looked up to find you standing in the door and quickly changed back to his own form. “Oh, hey there. You didn’t hear--”

“Hear you making fun of your poor uncle?”

Camilo’s face fell at that. He was just trying to ease his uncle. He hadn’t meant to actually reveal the man’s infatuation to you. Quickly, he tried to backpaddle, watching Bruno fumble with his hands next to him.

“Oh, it was just a joke! It’s not like tío Bruno is in love with you or-- or anything! I was just trying to joke around and--”

“Tell him.” You urged Bruno and Camilo got quiet.

“Tell me what?” He narrowed his eyes at you two. “Why aren’t you surprised by tío Bruno’s crush? And why isn’t he mad at me for telling you about it?”

“Should I really tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Camilo asked but then froze. “Wait! Are you two already dating?”

He watched as Bruno’s face flushed a bit and he looked at you in question. You looked back at him, cheeks flushing as your eyes darted around the room, seemingly thinking of what to say before you smiled and nodded.

“That explains so much! Sorry, tío. I’m glad you two are a couple, though.” He then turned to you with a smile. “And I’m glad he’s going out with you.”

“Thank you, Camilo.”

---

VII.

Mariano had always thought the doors were amazing. From the first time he’d stepped foot into the casita, he’d been awestruck with their glow, the intricate details on them and their magic. So it wasn’t a rare occasion for him to get lost in the details of the rooms’ doors. On this particular rainy night, he was examining Bruno’s door, wanting to take in every detail now that it was glowing again – granted, he’d had months to examine the door because Bruno had been back for some time now but Marino’d been too preoccupied with his lovely Dolores.

He uttered a small sound of amazement, tracing the details of Bruno’s hands on the door, feeling the glow of it warm his skin just the tiniest bit. And then he heard the voices from inside, making him take a few steps back. He hadn’t known Bruno was home. And he had surely not known that you were over, in the room with him.

“It’s been raining for days.” Bruno said quietly, moving around the room inside. “I planned this lovely evening for us and-- and now it’s ruined.”

Mariano heard you sighing from inside the room. “Oh, my love, don’t worry. I don’t need a night under the stars or a romantic day out. All I need is you.”

“You’ve done so much for me. I wanted to do something for you.” Bruno sounded so sad that Mariano actually felt bad for the man. “You’ve been so busy helping around the house lately. I wanted you to be—I wanted you to just relax for once.”

You chuckled at that, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “I’m a busy-bee, what can I say? Bruno, I love helping you all. Your family has been so welcoming and kind to me. It’s no bother to help with the painting or the laundry or the dishes or anything!”

“But--”

“And on top of that, I need to make a good impression.” There was the sound of kissing before you spoke up again. “If they’re to become my in-laws one day, I need them to like me.”

“In-laws?” Bruno stammered and Mariano could practically hear his flustered expression through the wooden door.

“I mean, we are dating and I hope we stay together for a long time. They’ll find out eventually. I want them to like me.”

“They already do.” Bruno said and then his voice was muffled as though he had buried his face at your neck or shoulder. “You feel cold. Are you cold? It gets cold on rainy nights like this one, mi amor.”

“A little.” You said softly. “Want to warm up with me?”

“Yes!”

Mariano’s eyes went wide and he quickly took a few steps back which unfortunately caused him to collide with a vase and knock it over. The voices stopped and footsteps approached the door. Feeling guilty for listening in, Mariano quickly tried to get away but the door opened before either of you had even reached it. Both you and Bruno looked at Mariano in shock.

“Hey.” He said awkwardly. “Are you-- How are you doing?”

“Have you been listening to us?”

“No!” Mariano exclaimed, shaking his head at you before sighing. “Well, yes, but unintentionally. I just-- I was looking at the doors and I heard voices and-- I am so glad that you two have found someone you love. My Dolores and I love each other so much. I cannot imagine being without her. I’m glad you two found someone to give all your love to, as well!”

“Thank you.” Bruno said in uncertainty as he looked down at Mariano who was still on the floor. “But you won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Why not? You are in love and if anything, we should celebrate it.”

“Yes, but we want to tell them on our own.” You said softly. “Can you keep it a secret until then?”

“I am going out with Dolores. I think I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. I keep everything she tells me a secret.” Mariano said proudly, making you smile. “Don’t you two worry! Have a good night!”

And with that, he was on his feet and down the hallway.

---

VIII.

Félix had been looking for Antonio when he heard someone crying quietly. While he knew the voice wasn’t that of his son, he still wanted to see who it was. It wasn’t Dolores either, since she was in the city and had it been Pepa, Félix was sure he’d have noticed her sadness in the form of weather changes.

So he slowly followed the sound of crying until he came to a door that led to one of the balconies. And when he got closer he saw that it was Bruno who was crying while sitting partially in your lap, arms around your neck and face buried at your shoulder. You sat cross-legged with his legs swung over yours as you held his shaking form.

You were shushing him, gentle hands running up and down his back as he cried into your shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, my love.”

But Bruno seemed to disagree because he gave a broken sob and clung to you a bit tighter. “I mess-- I always mess up!”

“That’s not true, Bruno.” You said mournfully, raising your head to press a kiss to his temple. “It wasn’t your fault, trust me.”

“That-- that man seemed to think it was.”

“He and his wife asked you for a vision.” You said sternly. “It’s not your fault that the vision showed something bad happening. What’s going to happen is not your fault.”

“They think it is.” Bruno sniffled mournfully, pressing himself impossibly close to you. “It’s happening again. It’s like-- like before I left and everyone is blaming me!”

“It’s not your fault that they don’t understand how your visions work.” You insisted and Félix leaned forward a bit to get a better look at the two of you while you squeezed Bruno tight. “My love, it is not your fault.”

“But I--”

“Ask Félix. I’m sure he’ll agree with me.”

Félix froze but quickly realised that you had really spotted him because you were looking directly at him. So he shuffled fully into the doorway and gave an awkward nod. “And I thought Dolores was the one with the enhanced hearing.”

“I didn’t need a special gift to hear you coming.” You chuckled softly, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “You’re just not as quiet as you think you are.”

Félix sighed at that and approached, eyeing Bruno. “Whatever you showed them in your vision wasn’t your fault, Bruno. They just don’t understand how your visions work.”

Bruno nodded slowly, looking up at Félix. “How much did you hear?”

“Are you asking whether or not I figured out that you two are a couple?” Félix asked, sitting down on the bench next to you with a smirk, not adamant to lighten the mood and change the topic. “Because I did!”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“Of course!”

---

IX.

It wasn’t news to Julieta that Bruno was madly in love with you. She’d seen him crushing on you when you were all still younger and he was still pining for you now. And it was blatantly obvious by the way he interacted with you, by how close he tried to get to you, by the lovestruck looks he gave you or by the way he spoke about you.

Still, it was surprising to see the two of you huddled together on the sofa when she went downstairs to prepare dinner, asleep in each other's arms. Julieta knew you two were close but she hadn’t expected Bruno to get so close to you with how hard he had been trying to hide his feelings. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at how calm her brother looked, face smudged against you and the hood of his ruana pulled up to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun.

But you had begged Julieta to show you one of her recipes, stating that you wanted to cook for Bruno sometime and needed to know how to make his favourite meal, so she decided to wake you up. Gently, Julieta crouched down by the sofa and shook your shoulder. While you groaned at being woken up, Bruno mumbled something, pulling the hood further over his eyes.

“Mi amor, stop moving.”

“Brunito, it’s me. It’s Julieta.”

That got his attention and he quickly sat up on the sofa, startling you awake. You sat up and rubbed your eyes a little, looking back at Julieta while blinking against the light that was coming in through the windows.

“Is it time for dinner?”

Julieta ignored your question and looked at Bruno. “Mi amor?”

Bruno nodded slowly, averting eye contact. “We have sort of-- kind of been going out for a bit of time now-- well, for a few months.”

Julieta could tell by looking at Bruno’s expression that he expected her to be angry with him for not telling her the truth. So she quickly stifled those worries by hugging the two of you tightly. A big smile formed on her lips as she held you close.

“I’m so happy for you, Brunito! I know how long you’ve had a crush on--”

“Julieta!”

His embarrassed complaint only got him a chuckle from his sister who let go of both of you. “I’m just glad you two found each other. Have you told Pepa and--”

“We will soon.” Bruno said quickly. “After Antonio’s birthday, we will tell everyone who doesn’t know but-- but until then, can you not tell anyone?”

“Of course.” Julieta nodded before turning to you. “Now, do you want me to show you how to make Bruno’s favourite food?”

“Yes, please.”

---

X.

“Mi vida, calm down.“

Pepa ignored Félix and tried to focus on clear skies but her anxiety was still getting the better of her. The last big day for Antonio had ended in Mirabel proclaiming that the casita was falling apart. So Pepa was even more worried about her son’s birthday. And the heavy rain that picked up outside the casita and drenched all of Encanto was proof of that.

“Take a deep breath, mi vida.” Félix said softly, leading Pepa outside the front door and closing it behind them for privacy. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I’m ruining the day already!” Pepa exclaimed anxiously. “I mean, look at the town! I’m flooding Antonio’s birthday.”

“No, you’re fine.” Félix promised, taking his wife’s hands. “A little rain has never hurt anyone. And besides, the flowers and trees all seemed a bit dry anyway. Some water will do them good.”

That cheered Pepa up a little but she still couldn’t will herself to make the rain go away. And her concentration was broken anyway because a few seconds later she heard you and Bruno running up the path to the casita, bags full of the errands you two had been asked to run. You had obviously not noticed Pepa and Félix who were still hidden away under the roof that casita had built to shield them from the rain.

And it didn’t seem like you were going to notice them any time soon because while running up the path, you slipped and fell, taking Bruno who had been pulling you along by the hand down with you.

You were the first to push yourself up, covered in mud and dirt to check on Bruno. “Are you alright, Bruno?”

“I am.” He mumbled into the ground before pushing his upper body up as well. “Did you get hurt?”

“No.” You said and then gave a dry laugh. “But I’m going to have to change before the party begins.”

“Me, too.” Bruno laughed softly, reaching out to wipe some of the dirt from your cheek while Pepa watched your interaction with interest, hiding away from sight with her husband. “Mi amor, you are completely muddy.”

You rolled your eyes at that before reaching above your head and gathering some water from a puddle. Then you splashed it at Bruno who gasped as the cold liquid hit his face.

“How dare you?” He laughed and grabbed your wrist gently. “Isn’t it enough that you pulled me down with you?”

Laughter filled the air as you dissolved into a fit of giggles. “You look so cute right now.”

Bruno opened his mouth to speak but you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, bringing his face closer with your hand. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. And Pepa’s jaw dropped. The rain lessened slowly and she smiled brightly, happy for both you and her brother. When you two broke the kiss you seemed surprised that the pouring rain had faded to a slow drizzle.

“We should get this inside.” You said and slowly rose before turning back to hold out a hand, helping Bruno to his feet. “Come on.”

It took you all but three seconds of walking to notice Félix and Pepa. You opened your mouth to speak but Pepa was faster, a smile spreading on her face.

“You and Bruno?” She asked excitedly. “I’m so happy for you two!”

Bruno chuckled awkwardly and avoided her eyes. “Thanks.”

“How come you haven’t told me, yet?”

“We actually thought Félix had told you.” You admitted with a small smile.

“Félix knew?”

All of you turned to Félix who was waving a little awkwardly. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, mi vida.”

But Pepa couldn’t find it in herself to be angry at not being told sooner. She was just glad that the two of you had found each other.

---

XI.

The sand on the floor rose up and a sharp wind began to whirl around Bruno. Mirabel narrowed her eyes and looked at her uncle in worry. It was obvious that he was having a vision. And she worried how it would affect him. Quickly, she looked around at the green lights spiralling around her uncle, herself and you.

“Bruno.” She heard you speak to him and when she focused on her uncle again she saw that he had his hands buried in his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as his breathing picked up. The sand around him kept falling and picking back up while the green light flickered and Mirabel could see the worry in your eyes. “Bruno, it’s alright. It’s fine.”

“What’s going on? What’s with the sand falling and the light fading in and out?”

“He’s having a vision and I think he’s trying very hard to fight it off but it’s apparently not working.” You said softly before shaking your head and looking back at Bruno. “Can you hear me? Because trust me, it’s alright. Just let the vision happen. You will be fine.”

Mirabel watched in anxious silence until her uncle’s eyes slowly faded back to their natural colour and he collapsed to his knees. You were on the floor next to him in seconds, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I tried to ignore it but-- but it wouldn’t stop!” He babbled, closing his eyes tightly as you held him close. “I can’t-- I don’t want to harm anyone!”

“You haven’t hurt anyone, my love.” You said softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. “Was the vision a bad one?”

“No.”

“At least.” You said with a relieved sigh. “You don’t have to fight the visions off, love. You told me how hard it is and you don’t have to do that.”

“But-- but didn’t I scare you, mi amor?” He whispered and looked up at you. “Didn’t I scare Mirabel?”

“I’m not scared!” Mirabel proclaimed, cradling her hands to her chest. “No one is.”

You nodded in agreement. “No one is scared. Don’t worry, Bruno.”

“Thank you for trying to help.”

“Of course.” You said softly, pressing a kiss to his head before your eyes widened and Mirabel was sure you’d forgotten about her presence for a second. “Uh, Mirabel, we--”

“So you two are dating!” She said with a grin. “I knew it!”

“What? You knew?”

“I mean not one hundred per cent. But I was guessing that you two were either already dating or would end up together soon.” Mirabel grinned a little, shrugging her shoulders. “You weren’t subtle.”

“So does that mean everyone knows that we’re dating?” Bruno asked, looking at his niece in slight confusion. “I’m pretty sure everyone has found out at this point.”

“Not your mother.” You said and looked back at him. “Unless someone told her.”

“You should tell Abuela.” Mirabel said and smiled. “You should tell her at dinner.”

“We should.”

---

XII.

Family dinners were some of Alma’s favourite things. Ever since the magic had been healed and the family had opened up to each other, she has loved those precious moments. After years in fear of losing her family, their miracle and its protection, Alma was happy to see everyone healthy and doing well.

“Can you pass me the salt?” Camilo asked his uncle, nudging Bruno’s foot under the table. “Please?”

Bruno looked up in surprise, seemingly distracted by talking to you as he raised his left hand to reach for the salt. It took him a few seconds to realise his mistake and he froze as he looked around the table. He had brought his left hand out from the cover of the table while his fingers were still intertwined with yours. Alma blinked in surprise and Bruno turned to look at her in shock while your eyes went wide as you froze next to him.

“We-- we know how this--“ He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Mama, we’re a couple. I don’t know whether or not you’ll like this since you didn’t really have a hand in setting this up but then again you didn’t set Dolores and Mariano up and--“

“Bruno.” You said quietly, trying to stop his rambling as everyone else got quiet.

“But we’re in love and-- and we really should have told you sooner!” He said, his free hand coming to rub his arm nervously. “But we just-- there was so much going on and we didn’t want to steal anyone’s spotlight because Antonio’s birthday was coming up and Dolores got engaged and--”

“Bruno.” Now it was Alma’s turn to try and stop him from rambling but her son didn’t listen and kept on talking.

“And I’m sorry everyone else found out before you did but--”

“Brunito.”

The pet name thrown his way by his mother got him to stop talking and he clamped his mouth shut. He quickly averted his gaze to look at his plate and his mother could see his hand tightening around yours as they still lay on the table. Julieta was looking at her brother in worry while Agustín held her hand tightly. Pepa and Félix were avoiding eye contact with each other and Camilo brought a hand up to stifle his chuckling. Hearing her brother’s chuckles, Dolores elbowed him but couldn’t help the smirk that formed on her face at the situation. While Isabela and Mariano looked down at their plates, Luisa’s eye went wide as she took the situation in. And Antonio looked at Mirabel, seemingly confused about what to do. But Mirabel wasn’t looking at her cousin because she was focused on her grandmother.

“Abuela, we all found out by accident.” She said quickly. “Are you upset?”

“Upset?” She asked in shock before looking at Bruno, leaning forward to tilt her son’s chin up and make him look at her. “Brunito, I’m not upset with you. I’m happy that you found someone you love. I just wish you had told me sooner.”

“You’re not upset?” Bruno whispered, eyeing her in confusion. “But you just said you wish you had known sooner.”

“I do but that doesn’t mean I’m upset.” Alma explained softly before looking at you. “As long as you treat my Bruno well, I couldn’t be upset. We’ve all been through a lot but the Madrigals are fine now. And I’m glad to welcome a new member to the family.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you smiled softly. “We’re not married, though. We’re not even engaged.”

“You’ve been friends with my children for such a long time now. And now you’re with my Brunito. You are part of the family.” Alma promised, reaching out to place her hand over yours and Bruno’s. “I wish you only the best future together.”

That’s when Camilo piped up, laughing to himself as he looked around the table before his eyes focused back on you and Bruno.

“So everyone knew and no one told each other?”

[runawrites-blog]

intimacy headcannons with connor?

Intimacy HCs with Connor (RK800)

a/n: say lessss 😩

warnings: nsfw!! android/human relationship, praise kink, puppyplay + collaring mentions.

— Intimacy doesn’t come easy with Connor at first, especially when he’s freshly deviant. There would be a period of him just curiously testing the waters of new feelings and seeing how you react to them. Unsurprisingly, sexual attraction is towards the bottom of the list of things he expects to experience. And yet he does, and it startles him a little, the sheer wanting that comes with it.

— Connor’s still getting used to desiring things. The first time he feels a desire for intimacy with you could even occur while on a case, where he feels in his element, until he is forced right out of it.

Imagine being on a case together and he’s in the middle of talking, the suspect rears a corner and you shove him against the wall and your body to shield him from view. You don’t realize it as your full attention is trained on the suspect, but your hands are holding his waist and you’re practically pinning him to the wall.

He’s also gone oddly quiet, his led spinning bright yellow. His programming is urging him to turn his focus to the task at hand, but his curious brown eyes are focused on you. Focused on the feeling of your thumbs absentmindedly rubbing nervous circles into his hips, and the softness of your front against his, how you fit together. And when your eyes meet his again, his LED blinks red, cheeks filling with blue blood.

When you ask him what’s wrong, he honestly admits that he doesn’t know. And when he acknowledges how close you are, he feels the disappointment settle in his core when you pull away, muttering a flustered apology.

— And once sex is more normalized in your relationship, it’s not hard to tell when Connor wants you. Because he’ll more than likely tell you! And also, being such a cuddlebug, he’s always making an effort to be near you. Connor feels little shame in rubbing himself against you when he’s needy and wanting, lips at your ear in seconds to ask for sex.

— He’s eager to say the least, big brown eyes watching with awe as you straddle him that first time. At first he’s very obedient, bound to your wishes by an overwhelming desire to please you. It doesn’t take long to learn that Connor has a very prominent praise kink, and his cock throbs upon being praised and complimented. Please tell him how good he’s doing, that he’s a good boy for you. Simply hearing you call him good is enough to send his head falling back, lips parted as a deep moan spills out from them, hips rising into the stimulation.

— The first time you called him your good boy he came on the spot, shaking and whimpering as an orgasm was involuntarily ripped from him. It’s the first time he has no control over his functions, both terrifying and intoxicating to experience.

— Connor has a built in rewards system for completing tasks that plays a pretty big part in this.

— Responds incredibly well to being called your puppy, and you bet you can collar n leash up this boy and he’ll be your lap dog. Speaking of which, since Connor’s mouth and tongue are full of sensors, he’s obsessed with oral. He moans against your pussy like he’s the one being stimulated when he eats you out and it’s h o t, he’s always eager to stick his tongue in you and hardly bothers to hide it. He jokes that he’s making sure the unique capabilities of his model are seeing use, you know better.

— Later on in your relationship Connor gets more confident, or rather, more of a brat. Doesn’t submit straight away and puts up a bit of a fight just to challenge you, and he likes being punished. He likes to rile you up until he’s tied down, being edged for hours and not allowed to cum.

— Connor’s a cheeky one, gets increasingly flirty the more human he becomes, but no less your dumb puppy the moment you tease the head of his flushed blue cock against your slobbering entrance. The way those brown eyes glaze over and then go blank when you fuck the sense out of him.

— Connor is versatile when it comes to pace, positions, and kinks, but when you do take the time to slow down and make love, it means so much to him. When you cradle his head against your chest as he slowly eases himself in and out of you, wrapped tightly in one another’s arms so he can only pull out a few inches before pitifully shoving himself back into your velvety depths. When nothing else in the world matters to him but the sound of your frantically beating heart against his ear and your tight walls strangling his cock so sweetly. It’s hard not to get emotional.

— L-word bombs everywhere so I hope that’s not a turn off for you. He loves you and often can’t keep himself from saying it, over and over.

— Aftercare is always soft and cuddle-filled! Connor’s impossibly cuddlier after sex and even when he feels scorching hot, his inner systems sweltering from the onslaught sex can have on his android body, he can’t bear to be away from you. It would be in your best interest to introduce him to cockwarming, because he’d love nothing more than to snuggle with his dick in you.

[runawrites-blog]

Tongue (Connor x Reader)

Summary: Connor reminds you how good he is with his tongue. (Female Reader) Warnings: SMUT (MDNI). Explicit Sexual Content. Oral (Female Receiving). Sort of Sub! Connor. Established Relationship. Connor has a Praise Kink. No Y/N. Petnames (Love). Word Count: 1,126

---

“I love you.”

You smiled at Connor’s words, chest heaving as you watched him turn toward you on the bed and lean up to kiss you softly. There was still a soft whirring sound coming from within him which he’d once explained to you being his internal fans coming on to cool him down and it never failed to make you feel a little proud of yourself when this happened after you two slept with each other. When Connor separated you gave him a soft smile, pulling him closer to look him in the eyes as he rested a hand on your chest.

“I love you, too.”

“Do you need anything or can we cuddle?”

Connor loved physical affection and he was terribly fond of having you close after sleeping with you. It never failed to make you smile, finding his affectionate nature terribly sweet. But nonetheless, you shook your head softly.

“We can cuddle in a few minutes. I’d like to clean up first.”

Connor’s eyes drifted down your body and the hand still on your chest traveled down your body toward your core. His mouth fell open, a small gasp escaping him when his synthetic skin came into contact with his artificial semen, still leaking out of you. “I did make quite a mess, didn’t I?”

“You did but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”

“Allow me to clean it up.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sultry tone of his voice, his eyes still locked on yours as he moved his body down toward your core. “Are you sure?”

“I have quite the talented tongue.”

“That is true.”

“And you know I love this.”

That was also true because Connor loved eating you out, loved the feeling of your thighs around him, the sensation of being on his knees for you and the pleasure he could draw from you with his tongue. And as soon as you’d given him a nod of consent he dove right in, his tongue running up your fold, licking off his artificial spent from your skin. Every now and again his tongue would lightly brush your clit, making you gasp out, but all too soon that pressure was gone.

“Connor, please, please stop teasing.”

“Teasing?” He whispered face inched from your wet core, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’m not teasing you. I’m cleaning up the mess I made.”

His words were a stark contrast with the teasing tone of them and when he went back to eating you out, his tongue was far from where you wanted it to be. Your legs clamped shut around his head as you let out a frustrated whine, breath coming in short pants at his teasing. And thankfully, that seemed to have convinced him because his eyes locked with yours before he moved his mouth higher, lips finally encircling your clit fully. The moan you let out as he began gently suckling the nub of nerves made his eyes flutter shut.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You breathed out, grabbing his hair and pulling his face deeper into your folds, eliciting a moan from him that sent vibrations through your core. “Connor, you’re so-- so good at this. You’re so good!”

If Connor loved one thing more than giving you pleasure, it was hearing your praise for it. Whenever you praised him, no matter what it was about, it was sure to get a blue blush to spread across Connor’s cheeks and when it was in an intimate moment such as this that flush would spread all the way down to his chest. And as you peered down you saw that this was the point as Connor’s freckled chest was covered in a soft blue flush.

“So good, Con. You’re always so good.”

Another moan sending vibrations up your spine almost sent you over the edge and your fingers tightened in Connor’s hair as your chest arched off the bed in pleasure. Soft pleas fell from your lips as Connor suckled and licked at your clit. By the way his LED flickered yellow as he ate you out you knew he was carefully choosing how much pressure to apply to give you the maximum amount of pleasure he could elicit from you without hurting you.

“I’m so-- so close, Con. Please, please just keep going and-- Oh, you’re so good at this! You eat my pussy so-- so well, like you were made for it.”

It was his obscene moan at your words, combined with the vibrations that it sent through the oversensitive nerves he’d been lapping at that sent you over the edge and you arched off the bed as you came. Your legs tightened around Connor’s head, eliciting another moan from him as your fingers tightened in his hair. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through your body and Connor kept up the movements of his tongue, dutifully eating you out until your orgasm had passed. Only then did he slowly withdraw from you, gazing up at you with a dazed expression, his eyes half-lidded and a small smile on his lips.

Gently, you reached down to cup his cheek with your hand, running a thumb over his cheekbones as you both caught your breath. Swallowing thickly, Connor slowly crawled up the bed until he was next to you again where he let himself flop down, his head on your shoulder as he took a few deep breaths. Always delighted to feel his weight on top of your body, you pulled him closer to which he gave you a big smile.

“I love you so much, Con.”

“I love you, too.” He whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest. “Are you alright?”

“I’m amazing.” You smiled down at him before running a hand down his side. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m great, Love.”

“I’m glad.” You smiled softly, carding your fingers through his hair. “For now, I’d like to cuddle with you but we really need a shower or a bath later on.”

Connor glanced down at your bodies and nodded once. “I think you’re right. I can draw you a bath whenever you want.”

“In a bit.” You closed your eyes, pulling him a little closer as you two snuggled up on the bed. “I’d like to stay like this for a bit.”

“Then we will.”

“You really are good with your tongue.”

“It’s amusing that it was originally designed to analyse samples.” Connor mused before he looked up at you, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Now that I think of it, if you’d like me to analyse the PH balance of your--”

“Connor!”

“I’m joking.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[runawrites-blog]

Did You Dream Of Me? (Wade Wilson x Reader)

Summary: For weeks, you've been questioning your feelings for Wade but when you have a sexual dream about him, they become all too obvious. Unfortunately, now you have a mission to go on with him, making it hard for you not to stare. (Female Reader) Word Count: 2,057 Warnings: Mild Sexual Content. Sexual Dreams. Confession of Love. Mild Angst. Mild Depictions of Violence. No Y/N. A/N: This was a request I got from the lovely @stargazingcarol and I would once again like to apologise for taking so long to write this. I've had work, private and health stress, so it took me a while. Thank you for being patient with me <3

---

His hands were all over you, stroking up your sides, settling on your hips and guiding your movements as you straddled his hips, yours moving down against him in a steady rhythm. He was hard beneath you, straining against his pants as he held you tightly, your eyes having fallen shut long ago but the trust in him making you go along with his movements despite it all.

Your tongues moved in unison, exploring each other’s mouths as you pressed your body flush against his, relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours, his hands gripping your hips and his lips against yours. A soft gasp against your lips has you reeling, grinding down harder against his lap, groaning lowly as he held you tighter.

A tight ball of pleasure was growing in your belly, curling tighter around itself, and when he pulled you even closer, grinding you down against him once again, it all but exploded. Pleasure washed over you in waves, making you gasp and moan as you clung to him tighter, fingers digging into his shoulders as you squeezed your eyes shut even harder. He helped you ride over the waves of pleasure, and only when you came down from your height did you let your eyes flutter open.

And you came face-to-face with none other than Wade.

---

Eyes snapping open and gasping for air, you shot up in bed, hands coming down to grasp at your bedspread as you took a deep breath. The realisation that the person you’d just had a sexual dream about was Wade, who was practically your coworker and definitely just a friend, made heat rise to your face. And your embarrassment over this didn’t end because as you began to move, to get out of bed to start your day, you realised that you hadn’t just come in your dream but in real life, too.

“Sex dreams about platonic friends, huh?”

In the back of your mind, you knew you were just trying to convince yourself of that, of this just having been a sexual dream about a platonic friend. However, on the other hand, you also knew that you had been questioning your feelings for Wade over the past few weeks. Every time he joked to make you laugh, he swooped in to save you, he trusted you to help him, you felt yourself drawn to him more and more. And this dream felt like the final nail in the coffin.

Shaking your head, you got out of bed and took a quick shower. You didn’t get done a moment too soon because the moment you had wrapped your towel around yourself, your phone rang. Quickly, you ran or it and nearly slipped as you grasped it on the table.

Wade was calling you.

For a second, you mentally prepared yourself for talking to him before you picked up his video call, making sure to keep the camera facing only your face, given that you were wearing nothing but a towel. As soon as he saw you, a grin spread on his face, and he wriggled his brows at you.

“Looking good there.”

You tried to will down the heat that crept up your face at his words and shook your head. “I just got out of the shower, so could you hurry this up?”

“Why? I’m quite enjoying the view.”

“You can literally only see my face, Wade.”

“I’m talking about the view in my mind. You know, the mental image of what’s going on below the camera angle.” He grinned before he yelped in pain and glared at someone off-screen. “Do you have to hit me? You know, as Colossus, you’re pretty fucking strong!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, making Wade turn back to you. “Got what you deserved for your lewd remarks, I would say.”

“As if you don’t enjoy my lewd remarks.” He said in an almost sultry voice before he looked back to his side again. “Alright, I’ll stop and ask her!”

“Ask me what?”

“There’s a hostage situation, and we sort of want to go help those people. We could really use your help.” Wade said, sounding much more serious now but that quickly ended when another grin overtook his face. “And feel free to come right away. I won’t complain about your state of dress -- or more like un-dress.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you started to move and gather all you would need for this mission. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready. Are you guys picking me up?”

“We are. But if we’re quicker than twenty minutes, does that mean I’ll get to see you naked?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you again before jumping to his feet and moving away from his previous spot, looking back at Colossus off-screen. “Don’t hit me again, I’ll stop with the flirting! For someone the author isn’t even writing any dialogue for right now, you sure are disrupting this story!”

“I will be ready in twenty minutes.” You said, pointedly ignoring his flirting remark and giving him a small smirk. “And thank Colossus from me, will you?”

“You like to see me be hit?”

“Definitely!”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Wade!”

“Never.”

---

The mission wasn’t easy, and that was not even due to the whole hostage situation and the criminals. It was hard because everything Wade did made you think of your dream. His nimble fingers working to assemble his weapons made you think of them running up your sides. When his hands grasped the handle of his katanas to slice a guy in half, you could only think of what they would feel like, grabbing your hips like they did in your dream. And when you saw his body move in that tight suit of his, you couldn’t help but stare.

But what really was your undoing was what happened when you thought all the captors were dead. As you checked the back of the bank for any more hostages, one of the men you thought was dead stumbled to his feet behind you and pulled out a knife.

You didn’t even notice him but he didn’t get to you because before he could, an arm was wrapped your your waist and you were turned away, body tilted backwards as the man fell past you. He collided with the floor before a shot was fired into his head by the person who had caught you. When you looked back up you saw that it was Wade holding you, his arm still wrapped around your waist and his gun in the other hand.

Wade mumbled some insults as he looked down at the man but you couldn’t stop staring at him as a realisation overcame you. What had been nothing but questioning your feelings for Wade for weeks had suddenly shifted. You knew how you felt. You knew you were in love with Wade.

Before you could as much as come to terms with that realisation, let alone think of whether or not to tell Wade about your feelings, he shifted your bodies until you were standing upright again before reaching up to pull off his mask.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You huffed as you busied yourself with putting your weapons away. “I was just looking at you because you twirled me out of danger like some heroic ballerina.”

Wade snorted at your words and leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest, and you once more thought of how yours had been pressed flush against it in your dream. “A heroic ballerina sounds more like Spiderman than me but I’ll take it. Still, don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me or being way quieter than usual.”

“I was concentrating on the mission.”

“I don’t believe you.” He said, narrowing his eyes as he punctuated every word. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on.”

“That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one. What happened? Did I say something to offend you? Did I look extra sexy in my suit? Did you dream of me?”

Wade was rambling now, and for a second, you thought he hadn’t noticed your reaction to the last question, the way your eyes widened and your frame stiffened. But then his eyes narrowed even more, and a small smirk appeared on his lips as he pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“You dreamt of me? What kind of dream? Don’t tell me it was a sexual dream!”

“Not so loud!”

“So it was a sex dream?” Wade exclaimed before lowering his voice which now had a flirty, almost sultry tinge to it. “Now, all your silent staring makes sense. It almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

Embarrassment washed over you, and you averted your eyes, looking down at the floor, littered with debris and weapons, as you felt heat creep up your neck. But what was even worse than the embarrassment was the lump that made its way up your throat at his words because they sounded so mocking that you just knew he didn’t reciprocate how you were feeling.

“Are you in love with me?”

All smugness was gone from his voice and replaced with genuine surprise but you still didn’t dare look up at him. You only did when you heard him curse softly, to find him looking at you in nothing short of concern and remorse.

“Fuck, and I joked about it like such a fucking asshole.”

“It’s alright. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same.” You mumbled out, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Just keep being my friend, alright?”

He stared at you for a few more minutes before he shook his head vehemently, closing the gap between you and all but crowding you against the wall behind you. “What makes you think I don’t feel the same?”

“You’re in love with me, too?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not like you ever said anything.”

“You didn’t, either.”

“I didn’t really notice it until now.” You confessed before shaking your head a little. “No, that’s not true, either. I think I was in love with you for some time but dreaming of you and you saving me today, made me really realise it.”

“Being a heroic ballerina made you fall for me?”

“It was part of it.” You laughed softly, the anxiety of the whole situation leaving you now that the weight of Wade liking you back settled on you. “I can’t believe you like me, too. Does that make us a couple now or something?”

Wade shrugged before placing a hand next to your head and supporting his weight on the wall behind you. “If that’s what you want. I’d be totally up for it. But you know what else I’d be up for? Recreating that dream of yours. What exactly did we get up to? I saw you glancing at my hands and fingers a lot. What did I do with them?”

“I was in your lap and they were all over me.” You whispered out as he got ever closer to your face, his lips inches away from yours. “We should probably take this somewhere private if we want to recreate my dream, though.”

“Good idea. Not that you covered in blood isn’t really hot but I don’t think fucking in a bank vault after there were hostages held there is a good idea. Just one more thing.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he was going to say, and he took that opportunity to kiss you, tongue instantly finding its way into your mouth as your eyes grew in surprise, just to quickly flutter shut. His free hand came up to grab the side of your face as he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, so perfectly reminiscent of your dream that your arms quickly wrapped around his neck to keep him close to you. Thankfully, even as he drew back for breath, he didn’t let go.

“Since I doubt the author will let us get nasty right here and now, let me take you home. Then I can show you what my hands can do, and I promise it’ll be better than any dream.”

[runawrites-blog]

Would you still love me if I was a worm? - John Walker x reader

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Word count: 1.1k

Description: You hit John with a stupid question, he takes it too seriously.

Note: I swear this man is so intense he’s so fun to write, enjoy🫶🏼

Masterlist / Bucky’s version

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

The question caught him off guard.

He was piloting the team's jet to mission site, big hands gripping the controls steadily. You were in the copilot seat, feet relaxing on the dashboard, enjoying a little too much the way he looked controlling the aircraft.

His eyes were locked on the sky ahead, with a tense jaw and those furrowed brows of his... lord, concentration looked good on him.

Almost too good.

So, naturally, you had to stop it before you jumped on top of your man and gave a free show to everyone on the jet.

John just blinked twice. What on earth was that question?

He didn’t glance your way, or even bother to give it a second thought before he replied.

"No."

You opened your mouth offended, and straightened up in your seat.

"John! You didn't even think about it" You whined, a soft laugh followed.

"Please tell me I didn’t hear you right, did you say a worm?" He asked, not even trying to hide the most bewildered expression you'd ever seen on him.

"You heard me, John" You squint your eyes at him, and insist, “would you still love me if I turned into a little worm?"

He sighed this time, taking his hand off the dashboard to rub his face like he just lost multiple brain cells.

"Honey, why would you ever be a worm?" He said, softer now, like he needed to understand the root cause before proceeding.

You roll your eyes, here we go again. Of course he needed it to make sense, his brain didn’t function right if there wasn’t a logical reason behind everything.

"I really don't now, babe. Some sort of mutation?… maybe witchcraft? … a gone wrong experiment Val does on me?”

“I would never let Val experiment on you” He denied, shrugging like why would you ever consider that as a possibility.

You pause for a second and tilt your head to the side, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest from his comment.

No, no, focus. You can kiss him breathless later, after he answers the worm question.

“Alright Walker that’s fair, love that, nice move” You nodded, squinting playfully at him.

He just smirked and shrugged, smug bastard.

“Not the point, though. Do you really think it would be so crazy that I could be a worm when we have at least two superheroes named after bugs?”

He looked back to the sky, considering it for a second, but quickly turned to you again with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, actually, spiderman is technically an arachnid so ... not a bug honey" He corrected, not even trying to hide his maddening little mansplaining smirk.

"Oh shut up, John" You rolled your eyes, slapping his arm, he chuckled. "Uh huh, whatever smartass, you still have to answer. What if I was a worm, then?"

He groaned, placing his thumb and index fingers in the dent of his closed eyes, shaking his head in defeat.

He could at least try to make some sense of it.

“Okay, we’re doing this” He muttered, and you nodded enthusiastically. “Is it still you, but worm shaped? As in … do you still have consciousness? Can you communicate with me? Would you have powers, or is it just …”

He just went rambling on.

You leaned back in your seat, chuckling as you watched the gears turning behind those handsome, stressed out eyes. He was running through scenarios, possibilities, variables.

At least he looked cute while losing his mind over it.

But then, he stopped rambling, like an idea just popped in his head.

"Wait … what kind of worm?" He tilts his head to the side.

I’ll be dammed, you thought, this man didn’t know how to go halfway about anything in his life, ever.

He was fully invested by now.

"What? what do you mean?”

Now it was your turn to furrow your brows.

"What kind of worm, honey? an earthworm? marine? are you symbiotic? regenerative?… This is crucial information to know" He said, listing types like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

How did he even care this much about worm lore?

“You are the most intense person I know” You groaned, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you are the most unserious one I know, honey, don’t get me started”

You just huffed. How did your stupid question get this far?

"God I don't know John, just like a basic worm… in the dirt"

He thinks for moment, like he wasn’t exactly pleased with the answer.

"So then, biologically, you’d lose everything. You would have no brain, no higher reasoning or communication. Technically, you wouldn't even know I exist anymore"

You glared at him.

"But you would know it’s me" You quickly justified, but it didn’t seem to convince him much. "Oh my god John ... just answer the question babe. Would you still love me?"

He tapped his chin a few times, eyes darting around the jet’s cabin, still trying to find a somewhat logical answer in his head. Making you wait for it.

You knew that little asshole was just having fun mocking you.

"Uhm, I guess I could keep you safe … yeah” He nodded. “Build you a little enclosure with some nice quality dirt. It would have to be temperature controlled, for sure. Maybe even ask Val to build you a reinforced travel case? something I can clip to my gear.”

You blinked a few times, before nodding. A win is a win.

"...Thanks?"

But he was quick to shake his head.

"Although honestly, sounds like a lot of emotional labor. Don’t you think our relationship is complicated enough already?" He protested, like it'd be too much fuss.

"Hey!" You laughed, smacking his shoulder.

You both fall into a chuckle. He shakes his head again, but there's a grin in his face now.

From the back of the jet, you heard the unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter.

"Even if she was a brainless worm, she’d still be more emotionally mature than Walker" Bucky whispered to the group.

Muffled laughter followed, like a group of schoolgirls gossiping.

"They are the weirdest, I swear to god" Ava muttered, watching the way you giggled at something John said like he was the most charming idiot on earth.

"Ah captain romance … don’t you see it? he’s worm nerd and she’s worm he takes care of" Alexei chimed in.

“Shh!” Yelena hushed him, snorting. “Honestly, it tracks guys. He gives off strong ‘I talk to my houseplants’ vibes”

“Yeah, watch him hang a ‘Worm Boyfriend of the Year’ plaque next to his service medals” Bucky sneered.

More giggles. At this point they weren’t even trying to be quiet.

John turned halfway in his seat. “You guys know I can hear you, right?”

“That’s the point” Ava said, flipping him off.

“Oh no” Yelena deadpanned. “What are you gonna do, worm boy?”

“Shh! He’s gonna clip us to his belt too.”

That set them off again.

John just rolled his eyes, turning back to the controls. But you noticed the faint hint of a smile on his face.

And then almost under his breath, only for you to hear.

“I’d still love you” He muttered.

You looked over at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Eyes on the sky.”

You smirked.

This time you did jump on his lap to kiss him breathlessly, while your teammates threw disgusted grunts and gagged sounds at you.

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comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[runawrites-blog]

Would you still love me if I was a worm? - Bucky Barnes x reader

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Word count: 1k

Description: A stupid little question turns into a makeout session. Your teammates hate to see it, except for one.

Note: Bucky is an absolute menace in this one. Tower fics are so back, enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist / John’s version

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Your question startles Bucky from his half sleep state.

Bucky’s body is stretched out across the Watchtower's living room’s couch. You're half splayed on top of him, your cheek against his chest, and your fingers playing with the chain of his dog tags.

You can feel his beard grazing your temple, and his vibranium arm is slung over your body, pulling you tighter to him like he can't stand even half an inch of your bodies being apart.

"What?" He asks, in amused disbelief. His voice is rough, he’d been at the brink of falling asleep.

"Yeah" You lazily mumble, tracing the edge of one tag. "What if you woke up and I was suddenly... a worm?"

His soft laugh vibrates against your ear. You feel his hand twitch against your back, like he's resisting the urge to check your temperature or look for a possible concussion.

He ultimately decides it's probably just you being silly.

"Just like that? In our bed?" He asks, eyes wide with mock concern. "I would probably roll over and crush you. Then cry about it for the rest of my life"

He pinches your side playfully.

"Bucky!" You gasp, laughing into his chest.

God. You don't even know what that laugh does to him.

"Come on, be serious" You whine. "Just answer the question”

"It's not necessarily a serious question, doll"

"Still needs an answer" You lift your head to glare at him. "Or else."

"Or else?" He playfully mocks, eyebrows rising in feigned shock. He throws his head back, shaking it, and his mouth curls into a teasing smirk. "Hell of a threat coming from a worm"

You narrow your eyes at him.

He chuckles, and the way he smirks is different now. You know it meant he was onto something. 

"Fine, doll" He says, no longer mocking. "You really wanna know what I would do?”

In one fluid motion, he flips you beneath him, pinning your back to the cushions. His metal arm beside your head holds his weight as he leans down, lips brushing your jaw.

"I'd be real fucking sad, doll" He mumbles against your skin "Because if you were a worm, I couldn't do this…“

His mouth travels to your neck.

You gasp under him as his beard tickles your skin, his lips trailing hot kisses down your throat. He sucks a spot just below your ear and you whimper, an involuntary, needy sound that he easily pulls from you.

“See, doll?” He mumbles against your skin. “I wouldn’t hear those sweet sounds of yours”

Your hands get lost in his hair, tugging, trying to keep yourself grounded. But it’s no use. He’s all over you.

“Bucky…” you say in a haze, already forgetting what you were even talking about.

He knows you’re melting under his touch, but it’s the only way he can get his point across.

“So yes, I’d still love you” he mumbles, his voice is low and smug “but I couldn’t love you right, doll”

His vibranium arm slips under you, lifting your hips closer to his.

“You feel that, doll face? you wouldn’t be able to take me like this, couldn’t wrap your body around me, couldn’t—”

“BUCKY”

The chorus of disgusted voices and grunts calling him out crashes into you like cold water.

You freeze on the spot. Bucky immediately pauses and closes his eyes for a second.

With heat all over your faces, you peek over the back of the couch.

There in the open kitchen, John is leaning over the counter, with Ava sitting across from him. Yelena lounges beside her with a bowl of popcorn they’d been sharing.

“The stupid worm talk was kinda entertaining” Yelena says, flicking a handful of popcorn at you “But now you’re just being disgusting”

Bucky blocks the kernels with one arm.

“Do you have to get freaky every time you’re in this room?” John complains.

“We’re literally right here” Ava makes a gagging noise.

“We weren’t even doing anything” Bucky says innocently, then grins like the little devil he is. “Yet”

You smack his arm and shove his chest to get up from the awkward position. Bucky groans theatrically but stands, running a hand through his tangled hair like he’s proud of the mess you made.

He offers you a hand up, but when you take it he pulls you back against him the moment you’re standing, pressing a kiss to your neck, eyes locked with them like it’s a challenge.

That horny little bastard.

“Okay, that’s our cue to leave” Ava stands abruptly, the stool screeching across the floor. Her nose wrinkles in disgust.

John follows with the popcorn bowl in hand, muttering “It’s literally every damn week”

“Always the same with these two… at least have some shame” Yelena sighs, shaking her head like a disapproving church aunt before trudging after them.

They vanish down the hallway.

“Alone at last” Bucky whispers over your ear. He gently tucks your hair behind it, then lays another warm kiss against your neck.

You’re just starting to melt again, when the sound of the flick of a page makes you freeze again.

You both whip around to find Bob, still curled up in his reading chair in the corner, legs crossed, his left foot bouncing. He’s been there this entire time, and his expression was calm.

Too calm.

“Bob” Bucky squints at him. “You okay over there, buddy?”

Bob blinks, just noticing you. “Huh? … Oh! Yeah yeah. I’ve had roommates who were way worse. If you don’t mind me, I don’t mind you.”

He shrugs, then slips on his noise canceling headphones and continues reading, completely unfazed.

You stare at him horrified. Worse roommates? What on earth has he seen?

You look at Bucky, whose face mirrors your horror.

“Okay… this got weird” he mutters, shaking his head. But almost instantly, he catches your eye, lips curling. “Unless…”

He looks at you, with that devilish smirk he only does when he knows he's out of line.

This time you smack him harder.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you did not just suggest that we …”

You couldn’t even finish as you break off in a chuckle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, completely unbothered.

“Yeah … whatever, doll. You know those headphones wouldn’t have helped Bob once I had you screaming into the cushions”

You groan, one hand covering your face as the other grabs him by the belt to drag him towards the elevator.

He just lets you, very happily.

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comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[runawrites-blog]

[runawrites-blog]

That's my work up there! I'm so honoured, thank you so much ^^

Star Wars

...is part of The Bookshelf.

⇨ This is a collection of my favorite fanfics/oneshots on Tumblr I love to re-read once in a while. None of those works belong to me! Feel free to use it as well.

⇨ My own works are here

Boba Fett

Midnight Special - Masterlist Summary: After an exciting fling in a bar, you and Boba enter a secret relationship that mostly takes place in motels where you pay for the hour. But when your friend invites you to her family's BBQ, you meet under drastically different circumstances.

Say Yes Summary: A young, handsome bounty hunter on Tatooine makes it a daily intention to ask you to marry him.

Twin Suns Summary: You broke it off, but Boba isn’t finished.

Protection Summary: Five times the people in the palace saw how protective Boba was of you and one time you got to protect him.

The Tribute (Series)

Darth Vader

The Empress Part 1, Part 2 Summary: Vader wakes up after his fight with Obi-Wan to the news that Padme is dead. In his anger he kills Palpatine and becomes the Emperor himself. Senator Organa and his wife Queen Breha help establish The Resistance. However, in order to hide Alderaan’s involvement with the newly established enemies of the Empire and protect their people, Senator Organa’s sister ( Reader ) is offered to Vader as a wife.

[runawrites-blog]

Super Solider Stamina

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N reveals too much information about her and Bucky's sex life to Yelena and Ava and Bucky get's revenge

Warnings: Mentions of sex, 18+ only, minors do not engage

-----

Y/N was lounging upside-down on the Avengers Tower couch, legs hanging over the backrest, hair brushing against the floor, and a knowing smirk plastered across her face. In front of her, Yelena sat cross-legged with a tub of ice cream in her lap, while Ava flipped through a magazine she clearly wasn’t reading.

"You two are so tense," Y/N declared, pointing a spoon at them. “You both need to go out and get laid. Seriously.”

Yelena didn’t look up. “And we’re starting here, why?”

“Because this is an intervention,” Y/N said, straightening dramatically. “You’re both walking nerve bundles. I swear I can hear Ava’s spine grinding. And Yelena, you flinched when the toaster popped this morning.”

“It was loud,” Yelena snapped.

“Exactly my point. What you need isn’t therapy, or more combat training. What you need is a hot, completely forgettable one-night stand with someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t afraid to ruin your life for one night.”

Ava raised an eyebrow. “And this is coming from the woman who’s dating America’s Broodiest Man.”

“Exactly!” Y/N beamed. “Bucky was broody. Now? He’s relaxed. Smiles more. Sleeps better. He even jokes.”

Yelena looked suspicious. “What did you do to him?”

Y/N leaned in with a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Oh no,” Ava said immediately. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N went on, not afraid to share any details about her sex life, “there’s something exhilarating about being pinned down by a supersoldier.”

Yelena gagged. “Please stop.”

"I’m dead serious. One night with him, and I finally understood what super soldier stamina really means. He doesn’t stop. Not until your legs are shaking, your voice is wrecked, and your body forgets what rest feels like. Three orgasms? Minimum. Coherent thought? Not happening for at least twenty-four hours. He’s relentless, in the best, most devastating way possible."

Ava blinked. “Three?”

Y/N nodded. ""And that’s before he even takes the shirt off. Once it’s gone and you see all that hard muscle and barely restrained control, it’s over. He pins you with that look—hungry, possessive���and suddenly your back’s against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he’s fucking you like he has something to prove. His stamina is unreal—relentless thrusts that leave you shaking, his mouth everywhere, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re crying his name and can’t remember your own."

Yelena dropped her spoon. “That’s too much visual. Too much detail. I'm still a child in some countries.”

Y/N was on a roll now, unbothered. “One time? He…used the vibranium arm as leverage, braced me against the glass, and said—”

The elevator doors slid open with a gentle ding.

The man of the hour, Bucky Barnes stepped in, toweling off his hair, dressed in joggers and a dark henley, walking toward the kitchen but stopping when he heard the word “leverage.”

He paused.

Three sets of eyes locked onto him.

“...What did I just walk into?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N lit up. “Hey, babe! We were just talking about you.”

Yelena threw the pillow at her. “She’s telling us war crimes.”

Ava was smirking at Bucky, revealing she knew way too much about him. “Y/N said that you have amazing stamina and that you’re vibranium arm--”

Bucky turned bright red. “I—what? Wait. Y/N!”

Y/N shrugged innocently. “What? I’m helping! They’re stressed. They need to relax. I’m offering inspiration.”

“I did not consent to being used as Exhibit A in your sex-ed TED Talk!” Bucky barked, now clearly panicking.

“Too late,” Yelena muttered. “You’re a whole case study now.”

“I’m leaving,” Bucky muttered, already walking backward toward the elevator. “You’re all insane.”

“Love you!” Y/N called after him. 

Bucky paused, pointing at her. “You’re getting payback.”

“I hope so,” she smirked.

The elevator doors shut behind him.

Ava slowly turned to Y/N. “So... back to this leverage thing…”

Yelena held up her hand. “No. We’re going to a bar. We’re finding someone hot. And I’m doing whatever they say—as long as it doesn’t involve windows, or vibranium.”

Y/N pumped her fist. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The team was mid-briefing in the tower’s war room, the kind with the 3D holograms, the giant table, and an overwhelming amount of caffeine. Y/N sat between Yelena and Ava, twirling a pen like she wasn't already bored out of her mind.

Walker was talking and clicking through intel slides. Bob was silently judging everyone.

And Bucky?

Bucky was biding his time.

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded casually, watching Y/N with a small, unreadable smirk on his face. She hadn’t noticed yet. But Yelena did. 

Something was coming.

Walker cleared his throat. “So our next op involves infiltration through a three-story compound—minimal cover, tight corridors. We’re thinking two-person teams. Standard breach and clear—”

Bucky casually raised a hand. “Can I make a team suggestion?”

Walker looked up. “What’re you thinking?”

Bucky smiled. “I should probably pair up with Y/N. She’s good at close-quarters work.”

Y/N arched a brow. “I’m flattered, babe.”

Bucky kept going. “And she’s excellent under pressure. Real flexible. Knows how to adapt to… tight spaces.”

Yelena immediately started choking on her water.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Bucky innocently said. “Just giving the team some context for why I think we work well together. Like that time in Berlin—what was it you said? ‘You handle the top, I’ll take the bottom’?”

Ava’s mouth dropped open.

Walker blinked slowly. “I’m…gonna pretend that was tactical.”

Bucky smiled. “Oh, it was very… hands-on.”

Y/N’s face was flaming. “James Buchanan Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Oh no,” he said, leaning back. “You’re the one who decided to give my resume out like free samples at Costco. This is me… networking.”

Bob tilted his head, intrigued. “This is more entertaining than the actual mission.”

Ava tried not to laugh and failed. “You two need couple’s therapy or a reality show. Maybe both.”

Yelena was wheezing. “I told her payback was coming.”

Bucky turned to Y/N with a shit-eating grin. “You really should warn them about how loud you are during recon missions. Could compromise the whole operation.”

Y/N kicked him under the table so hard that Ava’s water bottle rattled.

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “Tactical reflex.”

Walker stared down at his notes. “I’m begging you. Keep the flirting PG until after we clear the building.”

“I can’t make promises,” Y/N muttered, glaring at her boyfriend, who looked way too pleased with himself. 

“Good,” Bucky said, cracking his knuckles. “I like when you’re angry. Makes the mission more… physical.”

Yelena stood up. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this. I need bleach. Or a priest.”

Ava followed, eyes wide. “We were not ready for this level of revenge.”

Y/N slumped back in her chair, groaning. “I liked you better when you were emotionally repressed.”

Bucky leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re gonna like me even better tonight.”

Her pen snapped in half.

Walker, already regretting his life choices, said, “Next time, I’m assigning you to separate continents.”

[runawrites-blog]

Shoulder to Lean On

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you fall asleep with your head resting on Bucky's metal arm, he starts to realize he's not just a weapon.

Word Count: 1,878

Steve insisted that the group do a team bonding activity, something about not spending enough time together outside of missions.

Which is how you ended up here, on the couch, squished between Bucky and Nat while everyone argued about which movie to watch.

It’s not that you didn’t like the idea of a movie night – you loved watching movies. You were just getting a little overwhelmed with everyone around you yelling, your shoulder awkwardly pressing against Bucky’s metal one, and it was clear Bucky wanted to be anywhere but here, leaning as far away from you as he could.

You and Bucky didn’t interact much, but he didn’t really talk to anyone much other than Steve. You just shared quick greetings and awkward small talk if you were alone in a room together.

So being this close to him for a few hours was going to be interesting.

But when the others finally settled down and decided on a movie, Nat leaned against the other side of the couch, allowing you to shift away from Bucky, just enough so you weren’t touching anymore.

They had picked a fairly new action movie, one you’d seen once before, so you were half-paying attention and half-zoned out.

You didn’t even realize when your eyes started to flutter shut as your body slowly shifted to the side.

Before you knew it, you were asleep – with your head slowly falling against Bucky’s metal shoulder.

--

Bucky stiffened the second he felt her head drift onto his shoulder, her weight light but unmistakable. His spine went straight, eyes wide as if someone had yanked him into a mission briefing without warning.

Of all the places she could’ve leaned – why the metal arm?

The chill of the vibranium pressed against her cheek, and yet…she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move away. She even sighed, soft and content, like this was the most natural thing in the world. His chest tightened.

He stared straight ahead, muscles locked, jaw clenched. His instinct screamed at him to shift, to move her gently off him before she noticed what she’d done. He hated this part – this reminder of what he was made of. What had been done to him. People didn’t lean on weapons. They avoided them.

But then…he glanced down.

She was completely at ease, her features relaxed, lips slightly parted in sleep. One hand curled loosely in her lap, the other resting near his thigh but not touching. There was no hesitation in her body, no discomfort in her expression. Just peace.

She trusted him.

His heart thudded heavily, each beat slowing with the realization. She knew what his arm was, and she’d still fallen asleep against it. Against him.

He swallowed, unsure of what to do. He let out a slow, silent breath, careful not to disturb her, and leaned back just a little more into the couch cushion, letting himself settle.

Maybe he’d let her stay there a while longer.

A few minutes passed before Sam noticed.

He leaned forward from where he sat on the floor and blinked. “Wait a second – am I seeing this right?” he whispered loudly, elbowing Clint.

Clint turned, squinting in the low light. His grin spread instantly. “Holy crap. Is she – yeah, she’s definitely asleep on Bucky.”

Steve looked over and raised an eyebrow. “And Bucky’s letting her?”

Nat craned her neck and smirked. “Not just letting – he’s not moving a muscle. He’s frozen.”

“That’s because he’s malfunctioning,” Tony deadpanned, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Someone call Wakanda, his arm’s about to short-circuit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t move. “She’s asleep,” he muttered, voice low.

“On your shoulder,” Sam pointed out, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “You normally flinch if someone breathes in your direction.”

“She’s different,” Clint stage-whispered dramatically. “The Winter Soldier has a soft spot.”

Steve chuckled, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You okay there, Buck?”

Bucky glanced down at you again, then shrugged one shoulder carefully – not the one you were leaning on. “She’s comfortable,” he said simply. “Didn’t wanna wake her.”

But deep down, under the teasing and the smirks and the popcorn being flicked at his head, he wasn’t actually all that bothered.

In fact, he kind of liked it.

--

The credits rolled slowly up the screen as the final soundtrack played out, and one by one, the team began shifting and standing.

Nat stretched and cracked her neck. “Well, that was two hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Better than Clint’s last pick,” Sam muttered, brushing popcorn off his pants.

“You said you liked Mamma Mia!” Clint shot back, scandalized.

Voices layered over each other, shoes scuffed the floor, and someone knocked over an empty cup. The volume in the room rose steadily – but Bucky didn’t move an inch.

Still sitting ramrod straight on the couch, still letting you lean against his metal arm. His jaw tightened slightly as Steve glanced at him again with a knowing smile.

“You gonna stay like that all night, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Clint chimed in. “We should take bets – think she drooled on the vibranium?”

“I’m offended,” Tony said, pointing dramatically. “That arm was designed for stealth, precision, and battlefield dominance – not as a sleep aid.”

“Maybe it’s multifunctional,” Nat deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Bucky just huffed quietly, refusing to take the bait. “She’s still sleeping.”

“Not for long,” Steve murmured, just as your lashes fluttered.

Your body shifted slightly, and your head lifted off his shoulder as you blinked, disoriented. Your hair was mussed, a crease on your cheek from the ridges of his arm, faint but obvious. You squinted around at the group, half-asleep, voice groggy.

“…What’s going on?”

Clint snorted. “Sleeping Beauty returns.”

“You fell asleep on Bucky’s shoulder,” Sam said, clearly enjoying this way too much.

You paused, and then your eyes widened slightly as you slowly sat up straighter, fingers brushing at your cheek as if trying to smooth away the sleep marks. You didn’t say anything at first, just turned to Bucky – who still hadn’t moved – and gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry,” you said softly, voice laced with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said quickly, quietly. “Really.”

Something in his tone made you glance at him a little longer than necessary, but before either of you could say anything else, the teasing resumed.

“Look at him,” Sam grinned. “Protective mode activated.”

“This is my favorite team bonding night ever,” Clint said, not even trying to hide his laughter.

“Should we get matching blankets for them next time?” Tony added.

Bucky groaned and ran a hand down his face, but there was no bite behind it. You, now wide awake and thoroughly flustered, could only shake your head as Nat leaned in to whisper, “For what it’s worth, he didn’t move a single inch the whole movie.”

Your face burned, but a small, surprised smile tugged at your lips anyway.

The others slowly filed out of the room, still snickering and tossing back comments as they went.

“Get some rest, lovebirds,” Tony called, tossing a final wink over his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Clint added before Steve finally ushered the stragglers out with a tired shake of his head.

You stood up slowly, rubbing your eyes and letting out a quiet yawn. The creak of the couch cushions behind you told you Bucky had gotten up too. You turned back slightly, surprised he hadn’t made a beeline for the exit like he usually did after group events.

You hesitated for a second, then smiled as you looked up at him. “Thanks,” you said lightly, your voice a little shy but warm. “For, y’know…letting me fall asleep on you.” You let out a small laugh, a bit self-conscious. “Didn’t mean to use your shoulder as a pillow.”

Bucky shrugged, hands in his pockets, a flicker of something soft in his eyes. “No problem,” he said. “Just didn’t wanna wake you.”

His gaze flicked to your cheek, and his brow furrowed a little. “Did it hurt? The arm, I mean.”

You blinked, then instinctively reached up and touched your cheek, feeling the faint ridges the metal had left behind. You laughed again, this time more genuinely.

“No, not at all,” you said, still smiling. “It was actually…really comfortable.”

His eyes widened slightly, just for a second.

“I usually can’t fall asleep sitting up like that,” you continued, dropping your hand and meeting his gaze. “But I guess it was comfortable enough to stay asleep, huh?”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh – more like a breath of disbelief – and looked away for a second, trying (and failing) not to let the corner of his mouth pull up into a smile.

People didn’t say things like that. Not about that part of him.

“That’s good,” he said, voice low and sincere. “I’m glad.”

And he was. More than he could say out loud.

You stepped out into the hallway together, the soft hum of the tower’s lights overhead filling the quiet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Bucky walked just half a step behind you, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweats, eyes flicking to you every so often but never quite landing. You toyed with the sleeve of your hoodie, not really sure what to say either. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly – just full of a weird mix of lingering embarrassment and…something else. Something new.

You were halfway down the hall when you glanced at him and said lightly, “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t shove me off the couch.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I thought about it.”

You laughed, nudging him gently with your elbow, this time intentionally bumping into his metal arm. “Wow. Honored.”

“That was before you started snoring,” he added deadpan, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. “I did not snore.”

“I didn’t say it was loud,” he said with a straight face, “just a little pathetic.”

You gasped, swatting his arm with a laugh, and he chuckled – actually chuckled – like the sound surprised even him.

By the time you reached your door, both of you were still smiling, the awkwardness from earlier fading into something easier.

You stopped and turned to face him, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Really, though,” you said, voice softer now. “Thanks again. I…I don’t usually let myself fall asleep around people.” You hesitated, then added with a slight shrug, “But I guess I felt safe.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. His expression flickered – surprise, warmth, something quietly vulnerable.

He cleared his throat and glanced away for a second. “It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off with the same calm tone he used earlier. “You were tired.”

You smiled again, this one gentler. “Still. Thanks.”

He looked back at you then, and the space between you shifted – not charged, not heavy. Just full of something simple. Honest.

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

“‘Night,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.

And with that, you slipped into your room, the door closing quietly behind you.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the wood grain, before finally turning and walking back down the hall – still not quite sure why he was smiling.

--

Masterlist

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd @navs-bhat @starstruckfirecat @yes-ilovetowrite

[runawrites-blog]

knife's edge.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Heels on. Nothing else. You only meant to try them on—until Bucky saw your reflection in the mirror. Now he’s on his knees, leaking, begging, and discovering a kink he never knew he needed.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, stiletto kink, cock worship (m receiving), edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm, praise/degradation mix, soft dom!reader, sub!bucky, kink discovery, begging

Author's Note: Just trying something new based on umm an old quote from the man himself (Sebastian).

You’d only meant to try them on.

The heels—sleek, obsidian black stilettos—had been tossed carelessly by your dresser, still in the box Yelena had left with a wink.

“You’re gonna need these at that gala. Something that says: I might stab you, and I’ll look damn good doing it.”

Now, fresh from your shower, skin still warm and dewy, you slipped into them—nothing on but a towel draped over your hair, drying off the ends. The hard click of the heel echoed sharply as you stepped across the hardwood floor of your walk-in, then paused to study your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The shoes made your legs look longer. Firmer. Every shift of your weight made your muscles flex just right—like danger incarnate wrapped in nothing but bare skin and sleek edges. You turned slightly, admiring the clean line of your thigh from the back, the curve of your ass lifted just right by the height of the heels.

You took a few steps—slow and experimental—toward the mirror. Click. Click. A small smile played on your lips. Powerful. That’s how they made you feel.

You didn’t realize you weren’t alone.

Bucky had been standing just past the doorway—towel slung low around his hips, hair damp, chest still glistening from the aborted mission to shower. But now he was behind you, watching silently.

In the mirror, you saw him—towering behind you like some kind of storm barely held back. His jaw was tight. His cock already twitching beneath the towel.

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked.

You startled slightly, catching his reflection. “Buck?”

“I—” he dragged a hand down his face. “Don’t move.”

You arched a brow, amused. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop staring. You—fuck, sweetheart…” His eyes raked your reflection, wide and hungry. “You look like a fucking vision. I can’t—your legs. Tight. Flexed. Those fucking heels…”

You shifted again, subtle, letting the pose change slightly. “It’s just heels.”

“You’re naked in heels,” he rasped, stepping forward like gravity reeled him in. “Clicking around like it’s nothing. And you didn’t even know I was here. That’s fucking criminal.”

He stopped just behind you—close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his towel brushing your skin. You met his gaze in the mirror as he stared over your shoulder, utterly entranced.

“I was testing them out.”

“Yeah?” His voice dipped again. “I’m testing my fucking limits.”

Still, he didn’t touch. His breath ghosted across your neck as he whispered, “You look like you could slit throats and make a man thank you for it.”

You chuckled, soft and sultry. “That’s a compliment?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a confession.”

Then his hands finally found your hips. He pressed himself to your back, hard and hot, his cock fully erect beneath the thin towel. His mouth brushed your ear.

“You ever see yourself like this?” he murmured. “Legs flexed. Shoulders bare. Looking at me in the mirror like that?”

“I see you too,” you whispered, shifting your weight just slightly so your heel lifted. “And I see what this is doing to you.”

Bucky groaned, the sound dark and low in his throat. His grip tightened, and then—slowly—he turned you in his hands. Gently, reverently. Until you were facing him.

His eyes were glazed, jaw tight, towel strained over how badly he wanted you.

Then, with one hand, he reached down and curled his fingers behind your knee.

“Lift it,” he said, voice a raw rasp.

You obeyed, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance as you raised your leg.

He caught it easily—guided your stiletto up onto his thigh, right against the heat of him.

And just like that… you understood.

You shifted your angle slightly, just enough to let the sharp point of your heel drag slowly across the inside of his thigh. He gasped.

You did it again. Slower this time. Closer.

He bit his bottom lip, eyes fluttering half-shut.

“Think I just found a new kink,” he groaned. “You, wearing those heels. Me just… watching you use ‘em like this.”

“You’d let me tease you like this?” you asked, voice teasing, hungry. “Keep you hard with just my heels and no hands?”

His hips jerked forward instinctively.

“You’d do that to me?”

You smiled, head tilting slightly. “I’d make you beg, Bucky. Tell you how pretty you look, all desperate. Maybe even let you rut up against my foot a little. But only if you ask nicely.”

“Fuck.” His voice cracked. “You could ruin me.”

You stepped in closer, both hands pressing gently to his chest now.

“Then let me.”

And with one slow, confident push, you backed him until his shoulders met the cool surface of the mirror behind him—still watching, still reflected.

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath, letting his towel fall.

And you dropped to your knees.

You were just getting started.

—

You looked up at him, cock flushed and twitching in front of you, chest rising and falling like he was holding on by a thread.

“Say please,” you murmured, fingers gliding up his thigh as you leaned in.

Bucky moaned—low and wrecked—his head falling back to thump softly against the mirror.

“Please. Just—baby, please.”

You didn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet.

Instead, you reached down and pressed your heel between his thighs again—light, teasing, right to that sensitive spot that made him jolt.

“The gala might have to wait.”

His breath stuttered hard, hands twitching at his sides. His hips rolled instinctively toward you, seeking contact—anything—but you just leaned back slightly, keeping your eyes on his.

“God,” he whispered, voice frayed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You smiled sweetly and slid your palm up his length in a slow stroke—then let go completely.

“Not until I’m done with you.”

“You’re so hard,” you whispered. “And I’ve barely done anything to you.”

You watched him—so big, so ready to fall apart for you—and felt a flicker of nerves beneath the thrill. You weren’t used to this. Not like this. But the way he looked at you?

Like you hung the moon.

You straightened your shoulders slightly. Let the confidence follow your voice.

Instead, you slowly stepped back, out of his hold. The sharp click of your stilettos on the hardwood made him visibly flinch, like even the sound of them had power over him now.

“Down,” you said softly, letting the word hang in the air like smoke.

You weren’t sure what you expected. But the way he froze—chest rising, mouth parted—told you everything.

He wanted this. Wanted you like this.

His brows drew together—hesitant, breathless.

“Kneel for me, James.”

You didn’t say it again.

You didn’t need to.

He sank slowly, towel loosening around his hips as he dropped to his knees in front of you. You stood tall above him, completely bare but for the heels and the towel draped across your damp hair. One step forward, and he was level with your thighs—your heat, your scent—everything.

“Look at you,” you murmured, tilting his chin up with your fingers. “Big, dangerous super soldier, and yet you’re right here. On your knees. Just ‘cause I told you to.”

His eyes were wide, lips parted. You watched his cock twitch again, hard and leaking against his stomach.

You shifted your weight, lifting one leg slowly and placing the pointed tip of your heel right between his thighs. Just beneath his balls.

“God—” he gasped, hands twitching on his thighs, unsure where to place them. “You’re gonna fucking destroy me.”

You didn’t answer.

You dragged the heel up lightly—slow, deliberate—over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. His breath hitched. The sharp press made the muscles in his thighs jump, like his body couldn’t decide if it wanted more or to pull away.

“You like this?” you whispered, eyes locked on his.

He whimpered. Whimpered.

You did it again—just a graze, the tip of your heel trailing up to the crease of his hip before you slid it back down. His cock twitched again, leaking now, desperate.

“Your cock’s such a slut for me,” you said, voice dipped low and cruel-sweet.

You didn’t even know you had that tone in you. But the way he whimpered—his thighs trembling, breath stalling—it did something to you.

He squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving. “Please—”

“Aw, baby,” you cooed, tilting your heel just enough to press into the tender flesh inside his thigh. “Didn’t know you liked being teased like this. Thought you were the one who liked calling the shots.”

His throat bobbed, lips trembling with restraint. “I didn’t know I’d like you like this.”

Your smile was pure wicked delight. “Poor thing.”

You grazed the heel up again—closer this time, letting the tip ghost along the underside of his cock. Just a whisper of contact.

His whole body jerked. A cracked, broken moan slipped from his lips.

“Needy little thing,” you muttered, stepping closer, letting your calf brush his shoulder. “You wanna come already, don’t you?”

He nodded—frantic, wrecked.

You stood tall behind him, watching the muscles of his back flex as he breathed hard, towel barely hanging on. He was beautiful like this. Obedient. Thighs tense. Cock flushed, twitching, untouched.

But your confidence flickered—just for a moment. Your power felt so sharp, so new.

Your voice softened. “Bucky…”

He turned slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, heel tapping lightly against the floor behind him.

You didn’t mean to sound unsure, but it slipped out anyway.

“What… what do I do next? If I wanted to really ruin you?”

His eyes nearly rolled back at that. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You say shit like that and I’m close already.”

That response? That gave you permission to keep going.

You stepped in front of him again, brow furrowed, lips parted with the weight of wanting. “Tell me.”

Bucky’s breath hitched. He sat back on his heels, looking up at you like worship. “Start slow. Use your hands. Don’t let me finish.”

You blinked. “That’s mean.”

He smiled weakly. “Exactly.”

You knelt—carefully, heels still on—sitting with your thighs spread just enough for him to see how wet you were already. His gaze dropped instantly, groaning again.

“You want me to just… touch you?” you asked, hand reaching out toward his flushed, aching cock.

“Please,” he whispered, desperate. “Just not enough. Just enough to make me lose my fucking mind.”

You wrapped your fingers around him gently—slow, reverent. His hips bucked, and he hissed through his teeth.

“God,” you whispered. “You’re so hard…”

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, eyes wide and focused on the way he twitched in your grip. His cock pulsed with every pass of your hand, leaking at the tip. He moaned low, broken, head falling back.

“You look so pretty like this,” you murmured, voice growing steadier as you watched him unravel. “On your knees, begging.”

“Don’t stop,” he groaned.

But you slowed. Thumb grazing under the head, teasing the slit. He cried out softly, hips jerking again.

“Sweetheart, please—don’t play fair. Ruin me.”

You leaned forward and dragged your tongue slowly up the underside of his cock—one long, deliberate stroke, just to taste him.

Bucky choked on a moan. “Fuck, fuck, do that again—”

You licked again, kittenish and slow, then placed a kiss to the flushed head. He whimpered.

Then stopped.

“Wait—baby—” His voice cracked. “Don’t… don’t let me come. Not yet. Please—keep me there. Just right there.”

You pulled back instantly, lips slick, eyes wide. “Like… this?”

You stroked him again, faster now—then stopped just as he started to pant.

He looked wrecked. Eyes glassy. Lips swollen from biting them. Chest heaving.

“Yes. Just like that,” he gasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Think I like seeing you like this,” you murmured, brushing your heel against his thigh again. “Whimpering. Barely holding on.”

His cock jerked helplessly. “I can’t—baby, I can’t take it—”

You leaned in, whispering at his ear, stroking him again just to the edge. “No coming, Bucky. Not until I say.”

He nodded helplessly. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

Your breath hitched. You felt that.

He was shaking now. Begging under his breath. You watched every muscle in his body tense and tremble—every pulse of his cock in your hand.

And still, you denied him.

“You wanna come so bad,” you whispered. “But I’m not done watching you beg.”

He looked up at you—face flushed, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded.

“Please,” he breathed. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

You stroked him once more—firm and slow—then let go completely.

His hips twitched. A full-body jolt. His breath hitched on a raw, cracked moan.

You tilted your head. “You’re leaking again.”

He looked down, eyes wide with humiliation—because yeah, he was. The flushed head of his cock was glistening, dripping onto his own thigh like his body couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I haven’t even touched you in a minute,” you whispered, awe curling around your voice. “You’re just leaking for me.”

His chest heaved. “I—I can’t help it—”

“Oh, I know you can’t.” You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “Look at you. All this from me in heels and a few soft strokes? That’s all it took to get you like this?”

He whimpered. Fucking whimpered. Shoulders hunched like the shame turned him on even more.

“I didn’t know you could get this pathetic,” you whispered, trailing a fingertip up the underside of his cock—barely touching. “But I like it.”

He gasped.

You watched in real time as another thick bead of precum dripped down his length—unprompted, untouched. His thighs were trembling now, muscles strained from trying to hold back the orgasm clawing its way up his spine.

“I feel like I’m gonna come,” he groaned, broken and frantic.

You leaned back, watching every desperate twitch. “You’re not allowed.”

“I know,” he choked. “I know, I know—but baby, please—”

His whole body was shaking. Cock flushed, painfully red at the tip. He was grinding the air just barely, involuntarily chasing friction he knew he wasn’t allowed to have.

Then you saw it—another thick drip of precum pulsing from him. His voice was wrecked now, barely intelligible.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I’m leaking—I can’t stop—baby, I can’t—”

His head dropped forward, resting between your thighs as he moaned—low and hoarse. He was panting like a man being edged at gunpoint—back arched, cock jerking helplessly, tip leaving wet trails across his own abdomen.

You didn’t let him come.

You just held his face, gently, fingertips brushing his stubble as he trembled between your legs.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered. “Look at you. You haven’t even come, and you’re already falling apart.”

His hands clutched at your thighs like a lifeline.

“Say it,” you murmured, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

He looked up at you, red-faced, eyes glossy.

“I’m yours,” he breathed. “Fuck—I’m yours. Ruin me however you want.”

You smiled.

You didn’t expect to love this—holding him like this, guiding his pleasure like it belonged to you.

But you did.

“Good.”

Your thumb brushed along his jaw as he panted, face still buried against your thigh, cock pulsing and flushed, still leaking.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, voice different now—lower, steady. “You’ve been so good.”

Bucky whimpered.

You tipped his face up gently. “You wanna come, baby?”

His eyes fluttered open—wet and desperate, like he didn’t believe you yet.

“Yeah?” you asked again, more tender now. “You want me to let you?”

His lips parted. “Please. Please, sweetheart—I need it. I need to come so bad, it hurts.”

You kissed his forehead.

“Then do it,” you whispered. “Come for me.”

He didn’t even need to touch himself.

Just your voice—just that permission—was enough.

He groaned, head falling forward again as his hips jerked once, then twice, and—

“Fuck—fuck—I’m coming—”

Thick pulses of hot cum spilled across his belly, each wave shaking his thighs. His whole body shuddered from it, like the dam had snapped wide open and he couldn’t stop if he tried. You held his jaw, watched him fall apart so sweetly—muttering your name under his breath like it was the only thing he remembered how to say.

And when it was over—when the last twitch left his muscles and he sagged against you, boneless, breathing hard—you whispered,

“You okay?”

His breath hitched with something like a laugh. He leaned his head against your chest, still catching up.

“I think I just found religion.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “You liked that.”

“I loved that,” he whispered, still dazed. “Didn’t know I needed it—being owned like that. You… making me hold back, making me ask for it?”

He looked up at you, cheeks flushed and glowing, a little awestruck.

“Felt like I gave you everything,” he said. “And you took care of it.”

You kissed him again, softer this time. “I did.”

And he let out a breath like a man reborn.

[runawrites-blog]

bucky barnes would absolutely read to you if you asked. like, maybe you’re too tired to read on your own, or your eyes hurt from reading too much, or maybe you just feel like listening to the sound of his voice. so you ask bucky to read aloud to you, and he jumps at the opportunity! “of course I will, doll, c’mere,” he murmurs, pulling you into him, failing to hide how honoured he is that you’ve asked.

he makes you lay down and then gets your head in his lap, holding your book open with one hand while the other plays with your hair absentmindedly. and he reads and reads until his voice gets hoarse, imitating the character’s voices to make you laugh, and pausing for suspense when something interesting is about to happen, to which you beg him to, “hurry up, bucky, you’re killing me.” he just laughs and presses a kiss to your hair before continuing.

he’d keep going forever if you wanted him to, but you drift off to sleep after a while. so he kisses your forehead and bookmarks your page, content to watch you sleep for a bit, mesmerised by the soft rise and fall of your chest <3

[runawrites-blog]

Don't wake daddy dad!bucky x mom!reader

synopsis: you've never been able to surprise your husband considering he's an ex trained assassin, but he'll make an exception for you and your daughter on fathers day. not proofread.

wc: 1081

"Mommy when is it gonna be done?" your daughter tugged at the hem of your shirt.

"Shh baby, we don't want to wake daddy." You smiled and whispered to her as you finished plating your husbands food.

Giggles and the smell of breakfast filled Bucky's senses as he woke, eyes fluttering open from the couch that he most likely fell asleep on from being to tired to get to bed after getting in from work last night. He watched his four year old daughter clumsily walk into the living room with a marker and paper in her hand. Placing the paper on the coffee table, she locked eyes with her father and let out a gasp.

"Mommy he's awake!" She ran back to the kitchen shouting.

You looked down at your daughter who had the cutest little pout on her face, you opened your mouth to speak before you felt an arm slither around your waist.

"Mornin' love." Bucky mumbled into your neck, the grogginess apparent in his voice.

You turned to face your husband and gave him a slow kiss on his lips, "You aren't supposed to be awake mister."

"Daddy ruined the surprise." You looked back down to your daughter who was now teary eyed staring up at her father.

You glanced up at your husband who was now looking at you wide eyed before he crouched down to pick your daughter up, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean too."

She sniffled in his arms and you watched as he gently wiped away your daughter's tears, Bucky tried to get her to stop crying but nothing was working.

You walked over to the two and placed a hand on your daughter's back as she cried, you slowly placed your head beside hers on Bucky's shoulder, "Don't be upset honey, daddy didn't know."

Bucky could feel his heart twist at his daughter's upset, especially since he's the one who caused it. The moment was too sweet for Bucky to handle, seeing his daughter cry over something so innocent while you consoled her so gently. Becoming a mother came so naturally to you, you were nurturing, loving and so selfless when it came to your family.

Your daughter wouldn't let up about the problem her poor father unknowingly caused, so Bucky decided to try and create a solution.

"How about I go back to sleep, hm? And then you and mommy can finish the surprise?" Your husband suggested in a hushed tone. Gaining not only your attention, but your daughters as well.

Your daughter's head shot up and she nodded with teary eyes. Bucky set her down and walked back to the couch but not before grabbing the hands of your and your daughter, "You and mom gotta tuck me in though, okay?"

"Okay!" Your daughter replied cheerfully, the way her could change so abruptly always surprised you and your husband.

You rolled your eyes playfully at Bucky earning a wink from him, as the three of you walked into the living room. Bucky returned to his original sleeping position and gave you a cocky grin while you placed the blanket over him.

You were just about to walk away before your daughter grabbed onto the hem of your shirt, "Mama what about goodnight kisses? Daddy needs them to sleep!"

"Yeah mama, I want my goodnight kisses." Your husband restated, the man was quite literally beaming while awaiting your kiss.

You giggled and bent down to give Bucky a peck on his forehead, but he swiftly angled his head upwards and your lips landed on his as he gripped your face gently, causing you to squeal slightly before pulling away.

"Okay, Daddy is going to bed now." You picked your daughter up as Bucky shut his eyes and went back to 'sleep'.

You walked back into the kitchen and finished setting up the breakfast tray with your daughter. You carefully walked with the tray in your hands as your daughter held a handmade drawing and a small wrapped rectangular box.

You set the tray down on the coffee table and signaled for your daughter to wake up her father. Bucky pretended to stir in his sleep earning a small chuckle from you.

"Mmm, m' so tired princess. How about you and Mommy join me?" Before either of you could respond, Bucky pulled both of you on top of him and squeezed you both. Your daughter shrieked with excitement before somehow freeing herself from Bucky's grasp,

"Daddy look what I made!!" She revealed the drawing to your husband, it was a picture of you and Bucky holding your daughter's hand along with a scramble of letters that didn't spell out anything, but he wasn't gonna tell that to his little girl. "Look I drew your arm!"

"Oh my. I love it, princess." Saying he loved it was an understatement. Bucky was on the verge of tears, he had been all morning. Bucky never thought in a million years that he would get to experience peace like this. He never thought he would ever deserve to live the domestic life, hell he still doesn't think he deserves it.

"Sweetheart, give daddy the present you got him. " You whispered.

You watched as her tiny fingers handed Bucky the small box. Your daughter watched eagerly as your husband opened the box to reveal a necklace with a small silver rectangular locket, similar to the shape of his dog tags he always wore around his neck.

Bucky's heart almost stopped as he opened the locket, inside was a picture that he had taken of you and your daughter on the beach during his birthday two years ago. The photo was of you holding your daughter in your arms, the two of you smiling in on the sand as the sunset painted the background with beautiful shades of pink, red, and orange.

That was it.

That was Bucky's breaking point, he could no longer hold back the stinging in his eyes. Tears slipped down his cheeks, he wiped them away quickly but not without you seeing.

"Daddy? You don't like it?"

"No no, I love it princess. Thank you." He said while clearing his throat, he pulled the two of you into his lap and smotherd you both with kisses.

"I love you both," He said softly

"I love you too." You pulled him into a kiss before your daughter separated the two of you.

"Ewww."

Bucky snorted out a laugh,

"Let's eat hm? Im starving."

a/n: this is completely self indulgent but idc. also late fathers day post, this was supposed to be posted three days ago oops. anways this is like a test run for me maybe posting a bucky mini fic I've been working on lol.

like, comments, and reblog appreciated!

[runawrites-blog]

goat fight. non-negotiable.

[runawrites-blog]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[runawrites-blog]

❝ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and john go undercover to infiltrate an arms dealing ring in paris. you take your roles a little too seriously.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.3K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), semi-established relationship (no label yet), fake marriage trope, espionage stuff, mild plot, mild mentions of insecurities, thigh riding/thigh grinding, dry humping, dirty talk, biting/marking, john is needy, making out, hair pulling, john walker’s praise kink, unprotected p in v sex, cowgirl/riding position.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was so fun to write & can be read in the same ‘universe’ as “bite the hand that needs you” !! lowkey I’m becoming john walker trash ,,, expect more fics of him because he’s delicious. I loved this sm & I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Covert operations were never considered your expertise — in fact, they were completely foreign to you, so outlandish that you wanted to crawl out of your own flesh. Discomfort comes with new territory, with putting on some new facade for the sake of a mission.

The ripstop mesh of your suit is gone, exchanged for a gaudy dress that seems torn from the cover of some business magazine, fabric the color of bruised plums. It’s awkward, constricting; you’re squirming in your seat.

Valentina had sent you all trailing after an illegal weapons manufacturer in the heart of Paris, superpowered machinery being bartered off to the highest bidder.

There were too many hands involved, too many bad people getting their hands on equipment that could level buildings if used improperly. It seemed like a threat that might’ve required Bob’s help, but he was still out-of-commission.

Admittedly, you weren’t sure why Bucky had put you and John up to the task as bait; it set your nerves ablaze, trying to step into a role that was the antithesis of your personality.

While you and John were out masquerading as a husband-and-wife duo who owned a technology company, the rest of the team were infiltrating an underground warehouse.

Given the newfound nature of your relationship with John, it made the predicament all the more humorous. No one knew, but the irony of being paired together for something of this nature had made you laugh, initially.

If you’d known about the blisters gnawing at the flesh of your heels, you might not have been so enthusiastic to volunteer yourself for this.

A tangle of nerves sat heavy within your stomach, a tight knot that continued to bounce around your belly, prompting you to bounce your knee. The stiletto pumps you wore blistered and chafed at your heels, the sensation grating.

Grenadine syrup oozes onto your tongue at the first sip of an iced Shirley Temple, perched at the countertop of a bar that seems excessively lavish. Everything is pretty — the scenery, the city, the hotel’s interior.

The atmosphere is light, casual; though, you’re actively avoiding looking over your shoulder. Tension curls within your muscles, your posture abnormally rigid; any attempt to relax is met with resistance.

John is talking with the target — pressed, tailored suit clinging to his musculature, blonde tresses less disheveled, smile easy; too trusting, too naive. You remind yourself that this is all an act, that you’re both Avengers playing pretend.

It’s difficult to discern if he’s enjoying himself or not — he’d rather be fighting, you think, expelling all of his frustrations into a few henchmen.

Nevertheless, you’re making a valiant effort to enjoy yourself; this was a free hotel stay, after all. Beyond the thin, sparkling window panes of the Hotel George V, you catch a glimpse of Paris’s glittering cityscape.

There’s a peculiar solace you find in the teeming nightlife, and much of the hotel’s clientele screams wealth and lavishness. It’s a life that you never had, growing up — now, being an Avenger, it was all within your grasp.

Even when you served with S.H.I.E.L.D, your assignments never took you to France. Despite the intensity of the mission at-hand, you were thrilled to be somewhere new.

As the liquid evaporates from your glass, you’re left with a twinge of disappointment, sucking what remnants you can from the bottom, ice half-melted. Sliding the empty vessel aside, you peer over your shoulder, noticing John’s gaze directed toward you, waving you over.

Act the part; the reminder repeats over and over again, a mantra screaming from the forefront of your mind. Gliding from the stool, you straighten out your dress, knees wobbling as you steady yourself on your stilettos.

With a tremulous exhale, your gait is somewhat poised, unpracticed; anyone observant enough could tell that you were one step away from fumbling over.

Pointed heels click against marble tile as you join them at the table, beaming and bristling with a fake excitement.

John notices the tremor in each step, unbalanced, and he finds it cute, in the way one finds a newborn foal to be cute.

He can taste the discomfort that rolls from you in anxious waves, and so he attempts to soothe you in the only way he knows how.

“Mr. Bertesy, this is my wife,” He introduces you without missing a beat, the words smooth, lacking an ounce of hesitation. John is better at this than you thought, smiling as if he’s won the lottery. “She’s also helming the company.”

Andras Bertesy — the name held some familiarity, a Hungarian arms dealer, prominent in much of central and eastern Europe. His features are gaunt, narrow; he reminds you of a spider, his physicality noticeably spindly.

Andras regards you with a thinly-veiled perplexity, as if he’s attempting to pierce through whatever barrier you’ve concocted. He remains seated, reaching for your hand with suave cordiality.

“Charmed, madam.” He carries a heavy accent, sitting heavy within his voice as you meet him halfway for a handshake. Instead, it’s taken a step further when he presses his lips to your knuckles.

Unphased, you offer him a pleasant smile; John’s jaw tenses, though it’s a subtle gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bertesy. I hope my husband’s been good to you.” Teasingly, you let your hand perch atop John’s shoulder.

With a listless chuckle, Andras nods, hand withdrawn to the table. “Your husband tells me of your interest in my work.” He muses, purely absorbed with striking a business deal.

Pulling up a cushioned chair to the table, it’s wedged beside John’s, space nonexistent as you sit down, folding one leg over the other. It relinquishes the sting in your feet, and you vow to never wear stilettos again.

“Yes,” As if to play up the facade, you reach for John’s hand, posture posh and prim. “We’ve been searching for something revolutionary, to take our company in a new direction. We think your work might be the key to that.”

Admittedly, John is mildly impressed with you — you’re swift to turn on the bubbly charm, the same charm he’d fallen for, and cater to the man’s inflated ego. You’re quick-witted, though he feels the anxiousness through your grasp alone.

As if to placate your nerves, John absentmindedly trails his thumb over your knuckles, pretending to be engrossed by the conversation at-hand.

This wasn’t part of his skillset, disguises and the covert, but being with you made it tolerable. “My wife and I would be interested in striking up a business deal.” John interjects, flashing a false smile.

My wife; for someone merely adopting a role, he doesn’t seem like he’s acting when he says it. A beat passes, cerulean hues shifting to gaze at you lovingly, your heart lurching within your chest.

Heat curls over the back of your neck, a brief hitch settling within your throat before you swallow it down. Digits tense, woven together, prompting you to shift within your chair, facing your target.

“I am certain that we could come to some arrangement,” Andras hums, his hawkish glower still picking you apart, a knife attempting to pierce through your defenses. “Assuming you’ve enough money.” He laughs.

John chuckles too, a noise that sounds so characteristically sardonic. “Name your price.” Part of you is amused by how serious he’s taking this, as if he’s going for an acting award.

Andras quirks an eyebrow, hands pressed together as he appraises the both of you. “I must reconvene with my associates,” More shady dealers? There’s a veiled perplexity written on John’s face. “Aren’t you curious to know what you’re purchasing?”

The warehouse — an anxious coil forms within your belly, teeth catching against the inside of your cheek. This is all supposed to be some distraction while they’re running infiltration, which prompts you to clear your throat.

“We’re very curious,” You concur, trying to navigate through the sudden uneasiness you feel. Bertesy doesn’t seem naive, but you’re also a poor liar. “Though, we’re pressed for time, and —”

“Of course. You must be very busy people,” Andras murmurs, tapping his fingers together. “Perhaps, a private viewing? Transportation would be provided, and we can cement our transaction.”

John’s mind is turning, turning again, attempting to think of something quick. His communicator is sitting in the waistband of his belt, growing heavier as minutes tick by.

The idea of playing into Bertesy’s proposition seems dangerous, unpredictable. Neither of you have your suits in-reach, no defense, and even with John’s super-soldier stamina, the odds are looking rather grim.

As if on-queue, a humming noise pierces the tenuous silence, awkward and grating, causing your heartbeat to climb dramatically. John clears his throat, flashing a brief smile before he moves out of his seat.

“Got a call I need to take, excuse me,” John shoots you a sideways glance, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be back, honey.” He says it as if it’s dripping with sweetness, and you have to stifle a laugh.

Before departing, he squeezes your hand, and that isn’t acting; it’s sincere.

Gooseflesh crawls along your spine, stomach a tempest of nerves as you face Andras, forcing a cordial smile. John walks away, slipping into a marblesque corridor, his voice beginning to taper off into a dismal hum.

Left alone with a dangerous arms dealer, you didn’t say much, unsure of how to progress the conversation. Though, you were intrigued by him — no one simply took to this line of work without being catapulted in that direction.

“How long have you been married to Mr. Wayne?” Andras questioned, and you very nearly laughed at the surname of John’s persona.

John Wayne — he loved Westerns; you bit your tongue to keep from snickering.

“Three years.” It sounded natural, and you tried to ease up, force yourself to relax. Your hands folded atop your lap, digits picking at the stitching of your dress in an attempt to relieve yourself of nervous tension.

“Americans, hm?” It was difficult to discern if he was interrogating you or simply facilitating conversation to fill the silence. Either way, you decided to answer truthfully to keep the peace.

“Both of us, yes,” A cough stirs within your throat as you proceed to make up a half-truth of how you met. “We met at a previous job, and it seemed to grow from there.” It was like a lament of your life beneath the shoddy disguise.

“How sweet.” The sudden sharpness of Andras’s voice makes you shift uncomfortably within your seat, heart threatening to rip from your chest. His gaze is poignant, discomforting; you want to look over your shoulder for John.

Silence crackles between, a terse hush that could be cut with a knife. Beneath the table, your fingers curl into your dress, fraying the stitching as you wrack your brain for something intelligent to say. Coming up short, your only hope is to wait for your partner to come back.

Andras cants his head to one side, wisps of brown hair moving with it, brows pinching together. “You seem familiar,” Shit — please don’t recognize you. “Are you certain that I haven’t seen you anywhere before?” He questions, and the anxiety builds against you.

With the formation of the New Avengers, your face plastered worldwide, someone was bound to know you if they scrutinized hard enough. An awkward laugh spills from your mouth. “That’s flattering, Mr. Bertesy. I must have a common face.”

Before the conversation could shift into a more accusative direction, John returns, much to your relief. He gives you a brief glance, putting on another mirthless, fake smile.

“Sorry about that — business calls,” He stands beside you, stance involuntarily protective, as if he’s a barrier between you and Bertesy. “Would you be willing to meet us in an hour, Mr. Bertesy? Name the place to meet.”

Andras regards you with something indiscernible, making your blood run cold as you avert his gaze, leg bouncing violently beneath the table. You’re wanting this to be finished, and it seems to be heading that way.

Wordlessly, the Hungarian removes a nondescript business card from the pocket of his blazer, offering it to John without missing a beat. “One hour. Look for a black horse.” He replies, abruptly standing up from his seat. “I look forward to your patronage.”

Scrambling from your seat, your feet ache again with the pressure of your stance, backs of your stilettos digging into your heels. Andras ends the interaction there, departing from the hotel’s lobby, a spot of black against the ivory.

Once he’s gone, you feel as if you can breathe again, tension unfurling from your shoulders in one fell swoop. Smoothing your hands over your dress, you’re eager to return to your room.

John is pensive, twirling over the business card between his fingers. ‘DARKFORCE SYNDICATE’ is all it says, stamped with the head of a black horse.

“Seems a little obvious,” He scoffs, sneering at the shady name; a seedy name for a less-than-moral organization. Tucking it into the pocket of his suit-jacket, he glances at you. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” With a tremulous exhale, you attempt to expel your nervous energy, feeling lighter now that he’s gone. No longer playing the part, you clear your throat. “I think he was getting suspicious. He said he thought he recognized me.”

Smug, John’s mouth twitches with the ghost of a smirk, hand skimming over the small of your back. “Think he needed to keep his eyes off of my wife.” He teases, though it stirs some flickering fire within you, a familiar heat crawling along the back of your neck.

“Your wife wants to go upstairs and get out of these godawful heels.” Your remark is lighthearted, keeping the mood playful in the wake of the growing intensity. Even then, you weren’t out of the clear just yet, but it gave you room to breathe.

John’s smirk grows, cocksure as ever, a flicker of amusement passing over his features. “Thought you’d collapse if you took another step.” His statement earns him a look of veiled frustration from you, but he isn’t entirely incorrect.

His attitude has changed; it’s tolerable, but he still has a habit of callousness and being unnecessarily harsh at-times. Less with you, more with the others. John’s gotten soft for you, more vulnerable — he’s still getting used to the feeling.

Admittedly, he’s terrified of losing you now, like he lost Lemar, lost Olivia. Beneath the flawed exterior, there’s a man left, attempting to reclaim his roots, try and better himself despite the world looking down on him.

Offering you his arm, you’re quick to accept, taking measured steps to ensure that you make it to the elevator, unscathed. His bicep is thick and taut beneath your palm, warm even through his expensive blazer.

Inside of the elevator, you decide to pry about his supposed ‘phone call’. “Where is the team at with the warehouse situation?” You asked, leaning against the metal railing behind you.

“Bucky said they’re cleaning up, but he wants us to catch Bertesy,” John murmurs, fishing out the communication device from his waistband. There’s a GPS watch too, keeping tabs on the others. “We’ve got an hour to kill.”

A soft ‘ding’ reverberates throughout the corridor, eerily hushed for this time of night. The hallways are glistening, pristine — you’ve never seen anything like it. Dimly-lit braziers mark your path as you return to your temporary lodging.

As soon as you cross the threshold into your room, you kick your heels off, black stilettos soaring toward the chaise lounge in the center. The room came equipped with an open fireplace, extravagant bed, and the bathroom — a luxury shower.

“Do you think Valentina could incorporate some of this into the Watchtower?” You muse, nose wrinkling as you settle down onto the ivory cushion, sprawling back with a soft exhale.

“She’s cheap.” John utters, tone flat as he grabs a duffel bag from beneath the bed, containing his suit and his still-bent shield. It’s become something of a staple, mildly sentimental, and he can’t bring himself to get rid of it.

The playful banter you shared before begins to wane; he becomes focused before a mission, before a fight. A sliver of you wonders if it’s because of what happened in Latvia, and the thought makes you grimace.

Tossing his suit-jacket aside, he’s already itching to be back in his kevlar and tactical gear, loosening the tie as if it’s choking him. He’s quiet, and it prompts you to stand, bare feet crossing cold stone as you inch closer.

“We’ve got an hour to spare, John,” The softness of your cadence is unmistakable, giving him pause as he stops in the middle of undressing. “We’ll handle this — just relax.” You soothe, noticing the tension simmering within his posture.

He’s coiled, ready to go; it’s an amalgamation of military training and past trauma, constantly on-edge, expectant for the unpredictable. John tries to loosen up, sitting on the edge of the bed with a begrudging huff.

“I want to get the job done.” He’s eager, hungry to complete a mission, like a trained attack dog. Even still, John is attempting to unravel some of the rigidity enforced upon him, but it’s a process.

“I know. We’ll get it done,” Sitting next to him, your toes barely brush over the cold marble, hands loose within your lap, nail picking at the stitching of your dress. “Bertesy said an hour, and we have fifty-two minutes left.”

There’s an impatience present, and he doesn’t enjoy waiting around; the deep breath before the plunge. If it weren’t for you sitting beside him, he would’ve been pacing.

Hesitation has never been his strongest suit, driven by impulsivity that only seemed to crush him after Lemar passed. Though, he’s tried to get better, reminding himself of his training, where he’s come from.

He just wants to make sure you’re safe.

Blonde lashes flutter in rapid succession, cerulean hues shifting from curtain-shrouded windows to you, gaze becoming a touch shadowed. You look gorgeous in that dress — he wanted to tell you before, so he settles on telling you now.

“You look beautiful,” John murmurs, low and husky, as if his sudden shift in cadence is a deliberate choice. A fleeting smile crosses his features, faint as he appraises you. “Should’ve told you before.”

He knows what he wants to do with those fifty-two minutes.

Flustered, you can’t help but smile, preening beneath his kinder compliment, giving a lackadaisical shrug of your shoulders. “Thanks,” You hum, but you don’t feel pretty; you feel like an imposter. “I don’t feel beautiful.”

Perplexed, John decides to push the matter, head cocking to one side. “Why not?” He struggles with his own insecurities, but nothing regarding physicality. Even then, he thinks you’re breathtaking, violet silk molded to your curves.

“I don’t know,” You confess, huffing a nervous laugh before you stare absentmindedly into your lap. “I feel stupid in this dress, worse in heels. It’s like I’m an imposter in my own skin or something.”

John understands the sentiment more than you fully realize. He doesn’t always understand himself, or his rage — it’s a labyrinth he’s still navigating, and like you, he’s still healing. He nods, shoulder brushing against yours.

Quiet, you steal a glance at him, heart beginning to thrum with an erratic beat. His beard is scruffy, a shadow of a darker blonde, tresses somewhat disheveled after removing his tie.

After you slept together two weeks ago, things have felt different; the tension is prevalent, unspoken feelings crackling between, and he gets increasingly protective of you. You don’t mind it, but the team notices the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He’s staring at you, gaze lingering on your mouth, over the delicate slope of your jaw, over your throat, which bobs when you swallow. John’s countenance softens, a rarity reserved only for you in private moments like these.

“Think you’re perfect.” He murmurs, brows creasing together as if he’s concentrating on something. A subtle hitch bubbles within your throat, breath catching on the exhilarating feeling of his words, hands stilling.

Unable to keep from smiling, a familiar tendril of heat coils within your belly, causing you to shift against the mattress. “John …” Before you can try and fully express your feelings, you feel his hand press against your thigh.

Though, you’re quick to indulge him and yourself, tilting in until your mouth clamors for his. Lips meld together, passion oozing through like thick honey, saccharine, eliciting a yearning that he tried to bury before the mission.

His beard scratches against your mouth, a pleasant prickling that reminds you he’s real, flesh and blood, a beating heart. John exhales; a steady, exaggerated sound, attempting to cling to the fine line of restraint.

The communicator is eerily quiet; he’s expecting Bucky to ping him, but he’s eager to take advantage of what time you have together.

Much of the past two weeks were agonizing; stolen glances in the training room, fleeting smiles shared over breakfast with the team, kissing in the corridors where the cameras can’t reach. He wanted you, you wanted him.

A delighted shiver grips your spine when his calloused digits tease the hem of your dress, threatening to push beneath. Hands find the muscled expanse of his chest, firm underneath your palms, warm to the touch.

Lips collided in a heated exchange of fiery affection, your stomach flooding with molten heat. John kisses you as if he’s burning alive, nearly flush against you, other hand cupping your jaw.

“John, I … Is this a good idea?” It is a wonderful idea, but you’re uncertain if squeezing this in beforehand would make things worse; for both of you. You’re still in the thick of a mission — things could change instantaneously.

Foreheads brush together, noses ghosting over another as he huffs a placating chuckle. “We’re married, remember?” His signature smirk pulls at his mouth again. “There’s a lot we can accomplish in forty-six minutes.” He murmurs.

His cheeky remark makes your insides turn with an excitable heat, and you want him terribly. “You’re a needy husband.” You tease, throwing caution to the wind, and his lips are back on yours with a thrilling haste.

John can’t help himself, a grunt splitting through his chest, raw and taut, each kiss leaving the both of you sputtering for any scrap of air. Your fingers are fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt, trembling with exhilaration.

Between deepened kisses, he coaxed you closer, strong hands drifting to the swell of your hips as he urged you into his lap. Skirts shuffled, fabric hastily adjusted as he slotted you atop one thigh, muscle firm and tense between your legs.

There was a sense of relief he felt, lost within the labyrinth of your lips, passion burning with a searing intensity. Whatever stress that he’d felt before began to unfurl from his shoulders, abandoned to the sanctity of your presence.

Crisp fabric untangles itself from his musculature, revealing his abdomen to you, which you caress with reverent touches. John feels you adjust against his thigh, catching the pleading whine that coagulates in your throat.

His scruffy countenance melds with yours, bleeding heat, kissing you with enough vigor that it prompts you to hold onto him. Your heart gallops, races — it’s quick and erratic, beating in your ears.

Lungs burned, wilted in the flame of his kiss, evoking a breathy moan that ripped through your diaphragm. Hips lurched forward, a sluggish roll as friction grew between his thigh and your clothed nethers, nearly making you writhe.

John catches you in the act, rucking your dress up around your hips, lips stilling against yours. “Need it that bad?” His voice is dangerously low, husked cadence curling around you, making you squirm.

Embarrassed, you nearly retreat from the intensity of his gaze, but he doesn’t let you, hands firm against the swell of your hips. He’s strong enough to move you without breaking a sweat, effortless, grinding you into the muscle of his thigh.

“John,” A warbled whimper splits your throat, the noise raw and needy. He’s getting off on watching you like this, cerulean hues burning with heat, an incendiary stare. “I—I …” Words turn to ash in your mouth.

In a clamor of bodies, your knee happened to brush over the growing tent in his trousers, eliciting a low groan from his lips. That seemed to momentarily silence his lascivious remarks, much to your satisfaction.

He gives you a pointed stare, knowing that you’re winding him up with the constant grinding and your damned knee, bouncing into his groin. “Stop it.” John hisses with no real malice behind it, only frustration.

The picture of faux innocence, you shrug, and he cages you against him, stifling another grunt mouth hot and fervent as he kisses you. You accidentally shift again, knee brushing over his erection.

Again, he drags you over his thigh, taut muscle thick through his dress slacks, watching your countenance blossom with bliss. There’s an excitement prevalent, something daring; you’re in the middle of a mission.

A sharp moan punctures your lungs when he jostles his thigh against your core, biting back a dirty smirk when your hands curl into his chest. “Yeah? You like that?” John murmurs, low timbre echoing beside your ear, causing you to shiver.

With an eager nod, you want more, hips urging into the friction of his thigh. The sensation sends shockwaves through your body, arousal coalescing between your legs.

Still, you rocked yourself atop his thigh, unable to smother a whimper as kisses began to cease, foreheads pressed flush together. John’s breathing is a touch labored, hot breath pluming over your features, bones aching with desire.

“I want you,” Your confession makes his brain short-circuit, trapped within a haze of desire. You’ve nearly forgotten about everything else, allowing it to simply diminish into the background. “John, please.” A low moan echoes from your mouth.

John tries to curb the smugness, but it’s swiftly replaced by his hunger for praise, validation. His mouth climbs toward your throat, beard burning your flesh, but the sensation is borderline intoxicating.

He’s getting a little rough, but you don’t care, hips erratically urging themselves into his thigh, friction tingling against your cunt. “Mind if I leave marks?” John grunts, pearlescent teeth scraping over the column of your throat.

“Please, please.” Gasping, he’s quick to take your sensitive flesh between his lips, suckling a hickey into your neck without a second thought. A muted buzz surges through him, muscles coiled, cock throbbing incessantly.

The grizzled scratch of his beard prickled against your neck, goosebumps icing your spine, filling you with anticipation. He’s still rocking you into his leg, mouth a tempest as it storms over your throat, teeth nipping at your flesh.

Dizzying moans slip past your lips in noisy droves, feathering beside his ear, hands gripping your haunches like a vice. A hoarse ‘Jesus’ hisses beneath his breath, a subtle noise that you nearly miss.

An urgent ache throbs within his cock, which continues to strain with obvious need against his pants. Between the friction of clothed bodies and wandering hands, John is wanting to take it further.

A sharp gasp penetrates your lungs when his mouth roughly sucks another mark into your jugular, laced with exhilaration and an excitable zeal. His communicator buzzes in his pocket; he ignores it.

Your hands are crawling over his chest, one palm dropping to the rather obvious bulge. Insistent, your hips urged in a rhythmic dance, grinding yourself still against the taut muscle of his thigh.

Lips momentarily collide in a messy kiss of tongue and teeth, the both of you clawing for one another, succumbing to baser instincts. Throaty whines escape you, consumed by his kiss, one that ached with desperation.

He stops, only to press kisses over the freshly-formed hickeys, visage dropping to your throat, lavishing your skin in endless kisses. There was something raw about him, exuding strength, caging you in over his lap.

“Jesus.” John groans, low and heady into the hollow of your throat, feeling one of your hands fist at his blonde tresses. The other kneads against his cock, ripping another grunt from his chest.

A coil pulls taut within his abdomen, an intensity that he had become acquainted with, lips parting as he continues to let you ride his thigh. “Want you inside of me.” Through a strangled whine, your words make his jaw tick.

It’s as if you’ve reached into his being and turned on some primal switch, feeling his grasp grow tight against your thighs. Undeterred, your hand grinds over the swell once more, as if tempting him, goading him into taking you then and there.

A shadow passes over his stare, cerulean hues eclipsed by desire as he shifts his thigh, muscle making contact with your core. A hitch forms within your throat when his hands fist at your dress, hastily dragging it towards your hips.

Admittedly, you were just as pent-up as he was, desperate to feel him inside of you. Arousal began to coalesce between your thighs, an incessant ache that spread throughout your belly, a fire that demanded to be extinguished.

In a frenzied clash, your lips were on one another again, feeling his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. Teeth knock together, moans swallowed through greedy kisses, fabric being manhandled past your thighs.

Hands fumble for his belt, and he’s grunting into your mouth like some feral animal, cock throbbing incessantly when you unzip the front of his pants. John doesn’t waste a second — neither of you have the time to spare.

Time has slipped your mind, but you estimate that it’s growing slim, hands steadying themselves against the nape of his neck. You hovered, soft palm guiding his length to your slick cunt. John inhaled — a sharp, poignant noise that signaled relief.

Intermingled sighs of passion float between faces, hot and wanton, your thighs twitching when you sink onto his cock. The sensation makes you dizzy, muscles shaking with the sting of exertion.

“John,” A gasp is pulled from your throat, raw and hoarse as he fills your cunt, hands tensing over the swell of your hips. “You feel so good.” You moan, unabashed, heat licking over your flesh as if you’re feverish.

The praise makes him keen, mouth pressing a kiss to your jaw, beard scratching ragged over your soft skin. He’s gripping you like a vice, strong enough to guide you effortlessly onto his cock, friction bristling when you roll your hips.

It was a sluggish start, agonizingly so, bodies finding moments to grow accustomed to one another, finding familiarity. You drew yourself up, his cock filling you in such a pleasant way, nothing discomforting about it.

John shuddered at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of your hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together; the pace begins to increase.

Neither of you hear the communicator thrumming; though in John’s case, he doesn’t seem to care in the heat of the moment. Each urge of your hips is drawn-out, intended to savor. “That’s it,” He husks, caressing your hip. “That’s my girl.”

It’s innocuous, the nickname — simple, but it sets off a catalyst within you, a furnace of heat that blankets your bones in fire, wasting away to ash. You’re moaning beside his ear against, fingers fisting at his blonde tresses.

The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

Calloused, careworn palms rubbed circles into your hips, wishing that he ripped your dress, instead. Regardless, John’s trapped in the same desirous haze that you are, chests brushing together, bodies leaving no scrap of distance.

Skylights pool in through darkened windowpanes, blanketing you in some euphoric glow. He thinks you’re beautiful, and some small part of him wonders why you’re indulging him like this, but John’s quick to push it aside.

His smug swagger and bravado seems to dissipate when he’s buried himself into your cunt, as if it’s nearly shut him up completely.

“So good at this.” You breathe, knowing how it sets him off. John kisses you, fleeting, hips jolting against yours as one hand leaves your hip, shifting to the coalescing warmth between your thighs.

If it weren’t for the mission, he would’ve fucked you right into the mattress, maybe break the headboard, but he’s restraining himself. Even then, you look so pretty in his lap, riding his cock as if you’re made for him.

A whimper of bliss bubbled from your lips as you became invigorated in your pace, rocking yourself up and down along his cock, aided by the sudden pressure of his thumb against your clit. It draws another moan from deep within your diaphragm.

Your pace was tantalizing, nothing too swift to let it feel sloppy and rushed, yet fervent enough to make his head swim with the haze of desire.

A familiar coil of heat began to unfurl within the pit of your stomach, just as it did his own. A sharp inhale inhabits your lungs, one of a dizzying surprise as he circles over your clit, sending tingles through your spine.

Thighs twitched, the action alone bringing you closer to the precipice of your release. His cock throbs inside of you, nearly kissing your cervix with each downward movement.

“Christ,” John huffed, countenance focused yet wrought with ecstasy, muscles in his stomach tightening up. “You close?” He grunts, voice low and gravelly, itching something lascivious within your brain as you clench around him.

With a disheveled nod, you don’t stop, maintaining the same pace, a steady rhythm that’s winding the both of you up. His groans make your stomach turn with exhilaration.

With a brief jolt of his hips, he bucked up into you, cock hitting new depths, toying with your pearl as you squirmed within his lap. Gooseflesh ices your spine, mind clouded with a salacious haze, bringing you closer to an ecstatic oblivion.

Even as he crescendoed into his own release, he continued to circle your clit, lips peppering themselves along your exposed collar. A string of murmured expletives escape him.

Nails dug into the nape of his neck, a choked sob wracking through you as you clung to every shred of friction. John huffs, letting your hips stutter into more of an erratic rhythm as you soar toward your orgasm.

Euphoria crashes into you, white-hot and blinding, the tension unfurling from you in one wave. The coil snaps, cunt clenching around his cock, evoking another low groan from his mouth.

Stars floated across your vision in the wake of your release, a moan of ecstasy rippling through your chest. John’s name spills from your tongue over and over again, as if it’s the only word you know.

The pressure between your thighs begins to wane as he holds steadfastly to your hips, chest heaving with labored breaths in the afterglow. It’s hushed, save for your ragged breathing as you come down from your peak.

Fingertips gently shift his blonde tresses back into place, sweeping over his hairline. John adjusts your position enough to pull out, heartbeat beginning to climb down from its exhilarated pace.

“You okay?” John asks, watching as your head bounces in a brief nod. A smile crosses his features, faint, as if it’s only reserved for you, lacking the usual sarcasm.

“We should clean up, before …” With a click of your tongue, you gesture to his GPS, sluggishly climbing from his lap with wobbling legs. The both of you need to be prepared, and that includes getting your suits on.

“Right.” A twinge of disappointment stirs within him, wishing that it would’ve lasted longer; or that you were both back at the Tower. The facade of your false marriage fades; you’re back to the mission.

Before you depart, you plant a chaste kiss against his lips, as if to remind him of your affections.

John watches as you grab your duffel bag, making for the bathroom with a bit of a spring in your step. He’s getting soft, wanting to pursue a relationship with you, but there’s fear prevalent, still.

He’s ditching the suit-jacket and slacks, exchanging the suave outfit for tactical pants; kevlar and body armor that feels more comfortable. John follows after you, nearly dressed, and you’re perched along the rim of the bathtub, wrestling with your boots.

“Need help?” He offers, and you’re moderately embarrassed, still fumbling with the knots in the laces that won’t come apart.

“Yeah,” Defeated, you’re losing the fight with your boots, ripstop fabric thick enough to stop knives, perhaps a bullet or two. “I didn’t expect to have trouble with the knots.”

The purple dress is pooled on the floor, forgotten, but the memory will be burned into your mind for weeks to come. John steps closer, crouching down between your legs, shoulders broad, marred by indents of your nails.

He’s quick at unraveling the knots and tangles in your boot-laces, glancing up at you from his kneeling position. “When this is all over, I’m taking you out.” John states, matter-of-factly, as if you’re both in agreement.

Bewildered, you fight to smother your smile, but it appears, still curling at the corner of your mouth. “It took you long enough to ask.” You hummed, fingertips reaching to caress over his bearded jaw.

With a sardonic huff, John’s mouth twitches into a smirk, cerulean hues glittering with a humorous gleam. He’s so handsome, smug; he’s grown on you to the point that he’s covering you like ivy.

“Wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t.”