#n e way been meaning to make this post for a while and keep forgetting so

[thelilylav]

The fact that Briar is listed as one of Rosabella's best friends in her profile but Briar's profile barely mentions her..

[venusbyline]

Overwhelmed ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 31, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: knife play + CNC

— summary: Spencer's mockery caused a sudden agony in your brain, your insides churning as your body writhed against the knife again. All of that seemed too much. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of lying motionless in the chair, maybe it was because the ropes were too tight, maybe it was also because Spencer was starting to rub the knife too hard.

— word count: 1.8k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 31st day, female!reader, boyfriend!Reid, post-prison!Reid, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, knife play, consensual non-consent (CNC), kidnapping roleplay, rape roleplay, safeword use, dry humping, dry sex, aftercare, rope bondage, dumbification, curse words, crying, subspace, bittersweet ending, rough sex, spit, choking, asphyxiation, sadism, slight dark content, mild angst, mild fluff, soft!Reid, dom!Reid, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"Oh, what a naughty girl you are. Did you really think you could get away from me so easily?"

Spencer's words echoed through the room and you whimpered immediately, your panties stuffed into your mouth as a way to muffle the sounds you had been making since Spencer caught you over hours ago, your body cold from the loneliness inside the empty room, the only other thing there being the chair beneath you, your hands and legs tied by a rope whose material was good enough to keep you still even after you tried to squirm when he approached.

"Don't be so hard on me, princess." Spencer teased, chuckling as he walked over until he knelt in front of you, his large hand caressing your cheek. "It could have been worse, couldn't it? When I kidnapped you, I could have been more... Rough." His voice sounded so sweet it turned your stomach and you closed your eyes. Oh, you perfectly remembered about the kidnapping. You were leaving work and all you least expected while you were walking in the parking lot was that you would feel someone grabbing and immobilizing you from behind, the alcohol rag in your nostrils making it difficult for you to escape, until you finally passed out.

Spencer played with your cheek, caressing the skin like you were a doll. A living doll. God, you could even picture him turning you into something like that if you could not escape. "You're so beautiful. Your boyfriend must be such a lucky guy to have you all to himself... A little doll for him to have fun with every night." You opened your eyes when you heard the sentence, your pupils dilating after assimilating what he meant, and it took you a few seconds to react, returning to scream against the fabric of your panties. Spencer ignored the muffled sounds and let his hand trail down your neck, his fingertips brushing your jugular. "I'd like to have you as my doll. What do you think about that, princess?"

You stared at him with the best look of disgust you could muster, hearing Spencer's soft chuckle before he scoffed. "Poor little thing, I almost forget that you can't talk like that." He continued stroking your neck, but his free hand went to your mouth, removing your panties and smirking at the sight of you choking on the sudden intake of air through your mouth, your lungs burning more with each cough. "Better now?" Despite the mean voice, you noticed how Spencer was checking you out, waiting for a verbal response.

After continuing to cough for a while, you managed to mumble. "F-fuck you. You fucking and sick psycho."

Spencer's facial expression was almost comical, his brown eyes wide and his lips parted, trying to think of something clever to say. However, even the genius man with his extremely high and above average IQ was not prepared for your very angry tone and your swearing.

You take advantage of his momentary distraction to spit in his face, and that was what makes him snap out of his trance. Spencer growled, wiping the trail of saliva on his face with the cotton fabric of your panties and looked at you with fire in his eyes. The hand that was playing with your neck closed around it, your eyes widening as you feel the air being denied to you for the second time.

"Fucking slut. I was really trying to be nice to you." Spencer growled again. "Is this how you treat your little boyfriend? Spitting in his face like a wild badass? I don't think so..." Spencer's jaw clenched and he released your throat then. He considered shoving the panties in your face again, until he found a better use for the fabric, stuffing it inside his pocket.

You barely had time to register what was happening. One moment, you were coughing, your throat sore from the asphyxiation, and the next, you were a mess of moans and low screams, rubbing yourself against something hard that you were not sure what it was until you looked down.

Your pussy was simply rubbing against the tip of the handle of Spencer's knife, something he was keeping in his pants pocket along with the leather glove he nimbly put on when you were still struggling to breathe. He took advantage of the strength of the glove's fabric to hold the blade and stimulate your swollen clit with the wooden handle, your legs tied to the chair making your thighs press together, also making the friction more intense for you and more fun for Spencer to watch. "Poor little thing..."

Spencer's mockery caused a sudden agony in your brain, your insides churning as your body writhed against the knife again. All of that seemed too much. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of lying motionless in the chair, maybe it was because the ropes were too tight, maybe it was also because Spencer was starting to rub the knife too hard.

You could not tell what was happening to your body and inside your mind, but you suddenly snapped. "STOP IT, PLEASE!" You cried out, trying in vain to stop your clit from continuing to pulse against the knife held by Spencer.

Spencer froze when he heard your voice, so fragile and painful. These words normally would not be enough to completely stop the roleplay. They were words always said during the roles. However, Spencer was not an idiot. He knew his girlfriend like the back of his own hand and knew something was wrong. Your scream sounded much more broken than most other times.

"Color?" Spencer asked, moving the knife away from your field of vision, still keeping it in his hand. "Baby, what's the color right now?"

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when your clit stopped being so abused, tears flowing as you tried to think about your color system. Did you just want a brief break so the two of you could continue after you breathing for a few more moments? Did you want to stop the roles completely? Could you hold on a little longer? Were you too exhausted? Was Spencer mad at you? "Red. Or yellow. Or red... I don't know, Spencie. Please... I just wanna stop it." Your sob broke Spencer's heart, your tears being like salt in the wound. He did not take long to throw the knife on the floor, whispering an apology when you were startled by the sound of the blade hitting the floor.

"It's okay, baby. You're fine. We're fine. It's over. Now it's just me. Your Spencie, your boyfriend." Spencer muttered as he undid the tight knots he had made to immobilize your arms and legs. "You were so good to me, baby. You're always good. I'm so proud of you..."

You shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. You did not feel good enough for Spencer at that moment. Even though it was just your brain playing tricks on you, you could not help but feel useless. Why could not you hold on just a little longer? Both of you always played like that when Spencer was feeling bad about the prison memories. It was a way to help him fight the traumas he had acquired and his slightly dark side that had awakened. You did not know if it was actually a healthy sexual thing to do, but Spencer refused to talk about that part with the therapist.

Anyway, Spencer had your consent. It was something the two of you had already talked about and debated about his boundaries and yours. Sometimes the roleplay had a brief script to be followed and everything varied depending on the needs of both of you. In that week, you and Spencer had decided to go again for something more like an obsessive stalker and a taken girl. Spencer really had a thing for that kink, and you mentally wondered if he pictured your fake boyfriend in the roleplay as the past version of himself.

It was not anything you had not already done. It was always the controversial "consensual non-consent" roleplay. Spencer always gave his all to act perfectly, warning you in advance the day before that something like this would happen that night. You could blame it on tiredness from work, because you had actually forgotten about it when Spencer "kidnapped" you, even though you had followed his commands throughout the afternoon about parking your car away from the security cameras so no one would think he was really kidnapping you. He definitely did not need more time in prison for another mistake by the authorities.

"I-I'm so sorry..." You managed to mumble a few minutes later, the only words in your mind since Spencer untied you, picked you up and ran a warm bath for you.

"There's nothing to worry about, baby." Spencer said, running the sponge gently over your skin, taking extra care with your wrists, which were quite red and bruised due the ropes. "I overdid it this time. I left you waiting too long alone in the room and—"

You interrupted him when you realized he was blaming himself. "Stop it, Spencer. You did everything like we always do. I could have taken more... I just... I felt overwhelmed this time. It all felt like too much. I had too much stress at work and I even forgot a little about what would happen today." Your eyes opened to look at him, noticing that he also had a few tears in those beautiful and big sad eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry. I should have noticed." You shook your head again and Spencer sighed at your stubbornness, taking your wrist gently and placing a few soft kisses on your raw skin. "I'll make it up to you, I promise, baby."

You wanted to say that he did not need to make up anything. That he had not done anything wrong. You had used the color system as you should. You had said your safeword like you were supposed to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him and that he did not need to feel guilty about that situation. There were so many things to be said, clarified and reflected on, but both of you knew that was not the time yet. Spencer could deal with your silence for a while longer. He would bathe you carefully as you relaxed in the bathtub. He would apply ointment to your bruises, and apply body oil to the rest of your skin. He would dry your hair and lay you down on your large and soft bed, only leaving the room for a few quick minutes to get you some tea. Then, Spencer would let you rest and sleep, until your body and mind returned to stability and the two of you could talk about everything that had happened.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[everlastingephemera]

the monkey-sphere | Spencer Reid

— or the one where the ephemeral comfort of alcohol cannot possibly silence your demons the way that the constancy of Spencer’s affection for you can. [Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader]

Word Count: 5K. Proof-read.

Content Warnings: ANGST + FLUFF (no, really). SECOND-PERSON POV. No use of Y/N. Mutual pining, idiots in love (not that they’d admit it), case details, slight gore, alcohol mention, a lot of self-deprecation, vague mentions of facial features but nothing too specific, light/darkness imagery, barely any dialogue because how the fuck are writers good at that part?, written with (pre-addiction) S2/Glasses!Spencer in mind. Let me know of anything else that should be mentioned.

Author's Note: Bit the bullet and decided to start posting my writing on Tumblr after a decade of trying to master the art of writing fanfiction because nothing can satisfy the Spencer Reid brainrot like this can. This is very self-indulgent and may actually not make a lot of sense, but honestly, I feel proud of it enough to make it my first post on here. Hopefully, someone else can enjoy it just as much as I do!

You didn’t mean to drink so much. 

Truth be told, you didn’t even want to be in a bar right now. Surrounded by music that was infinitely louder than your aching head could tolerate, people who were much too joyful for your liking. You were completely lost as to how the world kept spinning around, how life seemed to always go on, no matter what you’ve seen. No matter what you’ve known. It’s just what you were, you were always so lost.

But Penelope, ever so bright and charming, had insisted that a night out was exactly what the team needed after such a brutal case. It never failed to make you feel better, the lengths that she’d go to ensure that all of you managed to bounce back well enough after exceptionally tough cases. You appreciated the sentiment, were always grateful for her ability to make you smile and forget, to make you notice that the world could and did go on. Because of everything. Despite everything.

But it just wasn’t that easy all the time.

You guys had spent far too long this week examining headless corpses in rural Washington, chasing after an unsub who had managed to evade capture for more than a month. You deserved a break for being the good sports who brought him to justice. And while the team’s company had always managed to offer you that peace after such heavy cases, tonight felt different. 

You had been at this long enough (almost a year now) to understand that some cases would hit harder than others. Whether it was the amount or the force of violence you were faced with, or the inevitability of empathising with the victims and their families, some parts of this job would always haunt you more. It was just the way it had to be.

And so that’s what you blamed the amount of shots you had downed on — the way things had to be. Because you didn’t know what else to blame it on, you didn’t know just what made your heart keep sinking after the case had wrapped.

While anyone would argue that six headless male bodies were more than enough reason, you were afraid that it wasn’t as simple as that. After all, in less than a year with the BAU, you had seen worse, and if Hotch’s words on your first day were any indication of it — This job takes a lot out of all of us. You’ll need a solid support system to keep strong. You’ll see things that you could have never imagined possible. — then you were always going to see worse.

It wasn’t that, it wasn’t just that. So what was it?

With your arms folded in front of you, the strong aftertaste of tequila still burning in your throat, all your mind seemed to go back to was something that Spencer had shared on the flight out to Washington. While you were all looking through the case file, scanning the details and exchanging theories on the unsub’s motive and victimology, the population of the rural town had come into focus. Discussing the unavoidable connections existing in a town of less than 2,000 people, Spencer, in true Spencer-Reid fashion, had explained that it wasn’t necessarily like that. 

You could still hear his high-pitched, lively voice in your head, just like you could still picture the soft smile playing against his lips, and the enthusiasm that his tone was always laced with when he went off on one of his tangents.

There was a study conducted in the 1990s by British anthropologist Robin Dunbar in which a cognitive limit of close interpersonal relationships was suggested. He studied the brain size of primates, as well as their average group size, and then extrapolated his findings to propose that humans can comfortably maintain at most 150 stable relationships. Informally, he used the paradigm of the number of people you would not find it awkward to spend time with if you happen to casually bump into them to explain his study— 

It had turned out that the monkey-sphere, as Spencer had called it, referring to a later blog entry on the theory when you’d asked him more about it during your lunch break, actually had helped you in pinning down the unsub and his MO. In a broad sense, at least. The men that he had killed and beheaded were men that he saw as threats to his already deteriorating relationship with his ex-wife and estranged son. 

For all of the violence that you had so far encountered, you hadn’t become desensitised enough to mentally flinch at the lengths people would go to feel important. To ensure their place in someone’s life. Wasn’t that the curse of manhood? The need — the struggle — to resist change, to cling to any illusion of steadfastness? 

But nothing lasts forever, and everything changes without notice.

That’s what it was, you settled. The fear of being dispensable. The thought of not being good enough, not special enough, to be part of a statistic. Okay, not a statistic — someone’s statistic. Someone special’s statistic.

Someone like the man standing in front of you, with those hazel doe eyes, and that honey-like voice, and an innate gentleness unlike any you had ever known before.

You hadn’t realised you’d made it out of the bar, denying the otherwise friendly bartender’s offer for another couple of shots, until the rather frigid late-February DC air hit your face. 

You were fiddling with your phone inside your coat’s pocket, shifting your weight uncomfortably in a failed attempt to warm yourself up, rushing to send a text announcing your early departure Penelope’s way, when a familiar voice caught your attention.

“Sorry. Yeah, excuse me, I’m sorry—Hey!” You turned around once your name was called, coming face to face with none other than Spencer, who was exhaling heavily and dusting off his signature black coat from the heavy bar air still lingering on it.

“Spencer?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, a faint, rather tipsy smile present on your face as you watched him fix his glasses, “I thought you’d gone home already.”

“I—Yeah, I was going to, but then Morgan challenged me to play darts with him, and when I kept winning—“ Of course he did, you thought, head slightly tilted to the left as you tried to follow his every word, “—I had to come to the bar to get the drinks that he lost in the bet, that’s when I… when I, uh, saw you trying to leave, and…” 

He trailed off, his eyes squinting in that particular way they did when he was paying attention to something. Really paying attention to something. 

In your inebriated state, you didn’t have it in you to swoon over the fact that he was paying such close attention to you. Usually, the mere thought, let alone the knowledge that he could and did do that, was enough to get you flustered. 

“Huh?” You hummed, snapping back into focus, realising that not only had Spencer said something else, but that he was also standing closer to you now. Close enough for traces of his cologne to fill your senses — sandalwood and amber. Comfort and warmth. It had brought you close to tears more often than you’d like to think.

“I just asked you if you were feeling okay.”

His voice was soft as he gathered you, and despite how quiet it seemed compared to the sound of the music echoing through the bar’s walls and the much louder conversations of attendees hanging outside of it behind you two, it was all that you could focus on. All that was clear to you. 

Wasn’t it always like that? Hadn’t it been like that since the start? With gunshots fired, and law enforcement officers bickering, and even the simplest of conversations in the bullpen? 

The moment that Spencer spoke, all else faded away. 

God, you were screwed. You had made your peace with that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little out of it, you’ve drunk a lot tonight…”

There it was again. That gentleness which clawed at your insides and settled heavily across every fibre of your being. Sweet, sweet Spencer, who always seemed to care, who always made it known that he did. Could you ever be part of his monkey-sphere? Could you be special enough to remain part of it? 

“Mhm, yeah, I’m just… I’m just, you know—“ Scared. Terrified. Cold, cold, cold. Always so goddamn cold. “I’m just tired.” You settled, again, like you’d always learned to do.

His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He knew. You knew that he knew. Fuck, didn’t he always?

Feeling way more defenceless than you liked to be faced with his understanding, you averted your gaze from his, choosing to scan the closed shops lining the street aimlessly.

Until he spoke once more, anchoring you to the present moment, to his presence, and suggesting that you take the train home together.

“Wh—You live on a different line than I do.”

His smile only got bigger when he shrugged at your words, “I think that the longer transit might do me some good tonight. Uh, help me clear my head and all.”

You blinked up at him, pondering over his words silently. You didn’t have to, not really. You already knew that you didn’t want to decline his offer, just like he knew that he’d never be able to clear his head the way he so desperately wished he could. It didn’t mean that you both wouldn’t try, wouldn’t choose to fight against the constant, overwhelming current anyway.

“Are you sure? I mean, really, I’m alright, and you don’t have to—“

“No, I don’t have to,” He shook his head, gesturing to his right, towards the nearest metro station, “But I want to.”

And you didn’t say anything then, and you didn’t mind the gust of wind or the smoke of a passer-by’s cigarette hitting the side of your face as you turned to where Spencer’s pointing towards. Because he wanted to make sure you’re truly alright, even if it meant spending an extra half hour returning home tonight. Because in being the recipient of his gentleness, you started feeling less cold than you had since you faced that first headless corpse in rural Washington three days ago. Because right then, you were part of his monkey-sphere. He wanted you to be part of his monkey-sphere, and goodness, so did you. So did you.

And Spencer didn’t really mind that you weren’t your usual talkative self during the train ride to your apartment. He was always kind like that, sweet like that. Sure, he found it hard enough to remain silent for long periods of time, but that was only when silence felt hostile, something it never did with you. He also knew well enough that if he asked, you’d say it was because you were tired, which you obviously were, both of you were, but it wasn’t just that which clouded your features. 

So he stuck to comforting you the way that he usually found himself doing, by gravitating towards you. Standing between you and anyone else who might have tried getting too close to your hazy self in the (thankfully) sparsely-filled train, walking on the outer part of the sidewalk as you circled towards your apartment, tailing after you as you walked up the few stairs to your unit. Even by unlocking the door when he saw you fumbling with the wrong key twice.

It wasn’t the first time that Spencer had been to your apartment. He had found his way there before to drop off case files when you had called-in sick to work, had even spent a night curled up on your couch watching a film with you after a particularly bad case just so that neither of you would be alone. 

In a way, entering your personal space had always felt peaceful in a way that was impossible to deny. Maybe it was the bookcase filled to the brim with your favourite editions taking up most of the space of your living room’s corner. Maybe it was the few artworks lining the nearest wall to it, pieces that you had shared your love for to him before. Maybe it was the persisting scent of your burnt vanilla candles and the cluster of papers spread on the coffee table. Whatever it was, everything about it was so inherently you, and he was grateful for the intimacy that being around you, with you, in your home, came with.

Admittedly, he hadn’t noticed how lost inside his own head he’d got once again, standing by the entryway to your kitchen space. Not until he noticed your silhouette sneaking inside the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway to his right, your shoes left behind messily.

Spencer didn’t really know if it’d be better to just leave right then and there. After all, you were both exhausted from an awful case, and you had barely even felt like talking to him on the way here. He knew how much you valued your personal space, wearing your solitude like a crown, and truly, he didn’t expect to get you to open up to him about whatever it was that had bothered you enough to drink so much.

But he was also your friend. 

Oh, that he was. 

He had been your friend for so long, since the very first day, it seemed, the connection between you instant and undeniable. 

Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever paid attention to him quite like you seemed to ever before, listening to his more-often-than-not burdened stream of consciousness and engaging in your own, special way. Maybe it was the fact that his heart seemed to skip several beats whenever you found yourself by his side, whenever you actively sought his company out, both at and outside of work. He’d not forgotten that one morning during one of your rare day offs when you’d made your way to his apartment, with books and baked goods, inviting yourself for an impromptu breakfast — Come on, doc, you’re not going to say no to me, are you? These donuts practically called to me, they’re yours, if I say so. As if he’d ever say no to your boldness and your brightness and the delicate way with which you’d announced yourself stepping inside his home. He was just glad you’d not found him as disheveled as he usually was most weekends off, hair unruly and mismatched pyjamas from his college days, a rare choice for comfort over looking smart, as you always put it.

It didn’t matter that Spencer had gradually, since you’ve found your way to the team and to his life, come to realise that he didn’t see you simply as a friend. Not at all. He knew better than to let it matter. He knew better than anyone what happened when you let such audacious feelings and thoughts matter. So, he swallowed it all down in the hopes that it wouldn’t one day spill everywhere and make a mess out of a good thing like you. So far, he was doing well enough.

That’s what he kept telling himself as he silently put your shoes away at the designated space by your front door, before taking off his coat and deciding to be the good friend that he was by making you a cup of your favourite tea. You’d need it, if your stifled yawns and your flinched expressions at every loud noise during your commute were any evidence of it. Skimming through your selection in your cupboard, he knew he was lucky enough to credit that eidetic memory of his for remembering everything he’d found out about your space during his scarce visits. He was a good sport like that, it helped to rationalise the fact that every detail about you was saved into an inventory that was named after you inside his mind. If it was up to him, he’d never run out of things to include there.

He’d only just finished stirring the hot water in your favourite mug when he heard a loud noise coming from down the hall where you must have been, making his way there perhaps a little too fast.

He lingered by the half-ajar door briefly for fear that he’d screw anything up if he just barged in. Until he spotted you sitting on the closed toilet seat, with your make-up bag half-empty down in front of you.

Your eyes were much too soft when you glanced up, finally noticing him. Half-embarrassed, a small groan slipped past your lips, but you didn’t make a move to grab the scattered things from the floor. “I, uh… dropped the bag by mistake.”

Spencer tried really hard to bite back the smile that was already creeping at his lips, “I can see that.”

A beat of silence passed before he had made up his mind, seeing you try to blink away the exhaustion from your eyes. He took a deep breath, not quite moving from his place by the doorway. “Why don’t you let me help you with that?”

“You would?”

Spencer didn’t respond to that, instead instantly moving to kneel in front of you. Fixing his glasses, he desperately tried to focus on putting everything back in your make-up bag and not on how your eyes were practically burning the side of his face. 

It wasn’t your fault, though. How could it be when he was inches apart from you, close enough for you to notice his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, to feel the warmth of his breath hitting your face. From this close, hints of stubble were evident across his jawline, and you noticed the rim of his glasses was slightly crooked the way the knot of his tie was.

You snapped out of your trance when you saw him tip some of your make-up remover onto a cotton pad, and it suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Surely, he wasn’t going to—oh.

You tried not to flinch when he pressed the cloth against the apple of your left cheek, but the contact was so soft, so barely-there, so feather-light, that your eyes fluttered shut without you realising it. “You don’t have to do that…”

“Well, it’s not good for you to sleep with make-up on. It doesn’t allow for your skin to breathe properly, and it can also cause breakouts.” Spencer frowned, wiping at the excess mascara under your eye.

“How worse can it make me look?”

He paused, not missing the cutting self-deprecation in your tone. It wasn’t unusual, he knew how often you resorted to bringing yourself down, even if it was unintentional. It was second nature for you. He didn’t like it one bit. “You know that I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You opened your eyes then, a self-effacing smile plastered on your closed lips. Under the almost clinical white light of your bathroom, Spencer looked far warmer than you’d care to admit. You decided that you’d let him have his way being soft with you just this once. He was always so eager to help, even when there was nothing to help with, but you barely ever gave him the chance. Now, you needed it. And it had nothing to do with cleaning the traces of foundation and mascara staining the cotton pads in his hand. “Spencer?”

He hummed imploringly, immediately pausing his ministrations. He threw the used cotton pads in the bathroom bin, before returning his attention to you, not standing from his crouch despite the dull ache already present in his knee muscles.

“The theory that you talked about during the case… The, uh, statistic, the monkey-sphere…” You trailed off and he nodded, encouraging you as always, his closed fist ghosting the space near your thigh, “Am I a part of yours?”

If the question was silly after Spencer had already explained the theory to you, he at least had the decency not to hold it against you. Certainly not in your current state. Then again, he never would. He would gladly explain everything he could to anyone, take time to break down the intricacies of each topic happily, however long it took him. Especially with you — you who always listened, you who were always interested in him and what he had to say since the moment he met you. But there was a strange kind of comfort in the sight of your vulnerability, in seeing you strip yourself off of your usual armour, the constant fight or flight mode that you always seemed to be in since he first met you. There always had been. And so he welcomed it even more, despite the circumstances.

Spencer’s brow furrowed, the corners of his lips twitching faintly, “Yeah. You are, yeah.” His eyes searched yours, the frown on your lips confusing him, “Of course, you are. We literally work together.” The way you narrowed your eyes at him, as if his explanation was not good enough in the slightest, had him practically smiling. “We are friends, aren’t we?” 

You shrugged, visibly deflating under his ability to see right through you, but still unable to hide the gratitude you felt for it. “No, I know, yeah, I just…” Your right hand was millimetres apart from his closed fist. He didn’t try to move away. He secretly hoped that you wouldn’t, either. “But what if… What if time passes, and you end up meeting 150 new people, and then there’s no place left for me in your monkey-sphere anymore?”

Spencer tried not to chuckle, he really did, but your worrying, however impossibly sweet, was delightfully absurd. As if he could ever imagine a time where you wouldn’t be a part of his statistic, of his tight-knit group of cherished people, of the couple of souls that he wished to know as intimately as humanly possible. Truthfully, he couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t at the very top of his list. Not that he could ever admit that to you, of course.

“Don’t laugh, that’s not nice!” You pouted, your tone gently admonishing.

“I’m sorry, I’m not—I didn’t—“ He shook his head, practically crooning at your half-hearted attempt to cover your growingly flustered face with your hand, “I just… Your faith in me that I could manage to form 150 new close relationships on top of ours is… uh, amusing, to say the least. I can promise you that won’t happen.”

The tiny yet mischievous smirk now playing against your lips was enough to alert him to the fact that you were about to put him on the spot for his choice of words. 

“We have a relationship?” And there it was, your wit making its return, your ability to always turn the tables on him, to make his admittedly fragile eloquence disappear.

”We—I mean, yeah? Not like, no, you know that I didn’t mean it like—“ 

You did, even in your tipsy state. It didn’t matter that being around him as long as you had this past year, getting to know him as much as you had, made you wish that he could ever mean it differently. You tried and tried and tried not to think about that. Women like you were never allowed to think about men like Spencer, they were never allowed to indulge in the wishful thinking of being enough in such a way. Of hoping that they could ever be enough.

You just liked messing with him. You stuck with that explanation. It worked for both of you, because truthfully, Spencer seemed to like it, too. Even if it left him a flustered, stuttering, but rather charming bespectacled mess, he didn’t seem to mind. Or if he did, he had never made a comment on it. Maybe because he knew that you would immediately spare his feelings, that you would be your ever-kind self and stop offering him your undivided attention more often than not — and that was the last thing that he wanted. So, for both your sakes, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“I know, doc,” You nodded, finally standing up, “I know.”

Spencer followed you with his wide doe-like gaze as you exited from the bathroom, not moving to do the same until you were already hiding behind your bedroom door. He should’ve realised sooner that the case had taken quite a toll on you, that you had been far more invested in what tidbit of obscure knowledge he had chosen to share with you this time around. But to his defence, he never thought that anyone would ever care to be a constant part of his life the way you seemed to do. He didn’t know what to do with it, what to do with you, without constantly fearing that he’d ruin everything. How could he ever know? No one had ever taught him how to deal with such feelings. The countless books that he knew by heart didn’t prepare him for anything quite like your sharp wit, and your earnest glances, and the mellifluous tone of your voice whenever you acknowledged him. 

Spencer had been entirely unprepared for you. 

That was all that he could think about as he paced back to your kitchen, set on getting the tea he’d made for you by your bedside before he could leave. 

He opted for a small knock on your bedroom door, but if you’d heard it, you didn’t respond to it. Eventually, his need to assure you were safely tucked in your bed and not indulging even more in your usual self-torment won him over, and he stepped inside the room.

At first glance, anyone could have thought you were asleep, but Spencer knew better. He had studied your breathing pattern as you dozed off enough times on the jet rides home where you usually nestled in an armchair next to him. Still, he approached your bed as quietly as he could for fear of disturbing you in any way, fixing the untucked covers over your body after he left the still-somehow-burning-hot mug on your bedside table. Debating whether you’d purposefully left the lamplight on, or if it’d be a good idea to remind you to get out of the clothes which still carried hints of dirt and smoke and depravity, he ultimately decided against both.

He also decided against lingering in your personal space far longer than he should. Despite his palpable, innate curiosity, and goodness, was that hard. He wanted nothing more than to take harmless advantage of seeing your safe haven for the first time by studying the number of books left on your desk, the framed photographs decorating any surprisingly empty bookcase space, the small radio which seemed to play almost on mute from its place on the window sill. He hoped that he’d be able to do that, even as a friend, some other time. If he was lucky enough.

Against his better judgement, he did find himself taking in the dimly-lit details of your semi-obstructed profile where your face was half-buried in your pillow. He was almost sure he’d never noticed a particularly clear adornment of freckles lining the side of your jawline. He made note to search for them again another time, when you’d be conscious, and he’d perhaps find himself close enough in your personal space again. He was almost certain that they made up a constellation. The thought made his stomach flutter.

Once he had satisfied his silent pining enough without feeling like a total creep, and you’d assumed the position of sleep, he decided that his time was up. He had already made it to the bedroom door when you called out his name.

Once again, turning the tables on him. Always turning the tables on him.

“Spencer?”

He didn’t make his way back to your bed for he didn’t trust himself not to stay behind and ruin the comfort that you needed. He stilled, his fingertips grazing the door handle. “Yeah?”

From the corner of your eye, his silhouette half-shadowed, half-highlighted by the orange lamplight and the silver moonlight glow where he stood by the door, reminded you of a time when you felt brave enough to believe that no monsters were hiding in the dark. Now, after what you’d seen and what you’d known, you weren’t quite so sure. 

Still, you clung to the remnant of hope, the promise of affection that he embodied desperately. 

“I promise you’ll be part of mine, too.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. He knew that he didn’t have to, that you didn’t want him to, that you’d pretend you’d fallen asleep if he extended the gratitude for your return of his promise. 

He lingered by the door for a few more silent moments, ignoring the contradictory sensations of the goosebumps dancing across his skin, and the heat rising from his neck to his face. Luckily, he was able to. You were in no place to remind him of your effect on him right now. 

You and your turning the tables on him.

He wouldn’t be satisfied if he hadn’t acknowledged your promise in some way before he left, though. 

So, as he slipped out of your room, he made sure to leave the door more than half-open, enough so that the orange and silvers in your bedroom would bathe the rest of the night in your apartment as well. 

In his mind, he found it fitting enough. The promise that you wouldn’t feel quite so stuck in the darkness once you were left alone, once he wasn’t around to try and silence those demons that made you think you’d ever be dispensable. 

He hoped that he had done enough for the night. He hoped that you’d find it easier to believe his promise. To at least try to. Because he knew that he’d already found himself believing yours. Whatever it looked like, whatever it entailed, it was enough for him. The permanent spot you’d hold for him in your monkey-sphere was more than enough for him. It would have to be, if only to quench his wishful thinking, his hope that he’d someday occupy the top spot of your list, too. 

Spencer had been entirely unprepared for you, that was the truth — and maybe that was the best part of it all. The promise of light drowning out the darkness. The possibility that it could. 

It was enough.

It was more than enough.

[literaryavenger]

Love Is A Battlefield

Summary: Bucky gets hurt during a mission and you can't help but blame yourself.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language cause why not. Mentions of Bucky's past. Injuries. Overprotective reader. Description of violence. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: This was inspired by this post and a dream I had lol. I couldn't help but start writing and this is what came out. Enjoy.

Masterlist

"Who the fuck do you think you’re calling a bitch, you ass?" you sneer at the guy to your left right before kicking him in the stomach and then bringing his head down on your knee when he doubles over, effectively knocking him out.

"Language!" you hear in you earpiece and roll your eyes.

"Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Rogers." you tell him while making your way through the corridor, taking Hydra agents down as you go.

"Can’t you do this without cursing so much?!" he sounds more exasperated at you than at the agents he’s supposed to keep distracted outside.

"Can’t you stop bitching in my ear? I’m a little busy here!" all he answers with is a groan and you know you won this round.

You hear Sam crackling before he says "1-0 to Y/N." which makes you laugh.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Anytime, baby." you roll your eyes at his nickname, the small distraction allowing an agent to get too close to you and you feel a sharp pain in your forearm and almost drop your gun.

"Shit!" you hiss at the pain and zero in on the idiot that cut you.

You can hear the concerned voices in your ear, but don’t allow yourself to get distracted again as you take care of the last few agents on your side of the building.

"Y/N, are you okay? What’s happening? Can someone get to her?" you hear Bucky’s voice for the first time since the mission started and you can’t help the warm feeling it brings, the concern in his voice making you answer almost immediately.

"Just give me a minute!" you say as you battle the last guy standing.

Once you’ve successfully knocked him out, you take a second to breathe before addressing the voices still coming to your ear while you make your way through the maze of corridors in this Hydra base.

"I’m okay guys, but apparently all these people have some sort of collective knife kink." you say and you can hear Steve’s annoyed groan and the rest of the team’s laughter as you check out your cut. Not too deep, you think to yourself.

You think you hear a relieved sigh between the laughter, but almost instantly forget about it as you finally come to the door you’ve been looking for.

"Clint, status?" you ask him since he’s on the roof, being the eyes on the whole operation.

"Everyone’s thoroughly distracted out here." he answers.

"Good. James, Sam, are you done with the explosives?" you can hear Sam grunting as you enter the room, locating the computer you need and turning it on.

"Just a second!" Sam says, you hear a couple of punches landing and then "Done. This place is ready to blow as soon as you have the files."

"And hurry, we can’t hold them off forever." Steve adds.

"Inserting the USB now, I need at least 5 minutes for the download to finish. Friday, remember to copy Hill at Shield HQ and to save the files in the Avengers private server." you tell the AI as you make your way through the office, grabbing files that seem important as the digital ones download.

"Really? Why the private server?" Steve asks between punches.

"Because, Captain Dumbass, these files could contain sensitive information about one of our own. We have to be careful with them." you say while still looking through the cabinets of papers.

"Do you have to be so mean to me?" he almost whines.

"Hey, it’s your best friend that I’m looking out for." you say almost laughing.

"Yeah, I’m sure it’s me you’re doing this for." You can basically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice but before you can answer, Natasha cuts in.

"Are you two done bickering?" she says annoyed.

"Oh no, please, let them keep going, this is so entertaining." Tony comments, but you get distracted from the conversation when you find a black box in one of the desk drawers that was previously locked, you open it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Bucky’s dog tags.

"Guys… do we have to blow up this base?" you ask, quieter than you’d like, leaving everyone else confused. Between all of the “what”s you hear Steve say your name.

"You know the drill, we download the digital files, save as much of the paper ones as we can and then blow the building up. This one’s no different." he tells you, but you can’t help but disagree.

"I think it is…" you can hear them asking you to explain, so you do, trying to find the right way to say this "I think… I think this is the first base they took James to." you say, still talking quietly but loud enough for them to hear.

The comms go silent, everyone processing what you just say, only the sound of battling going on, but you’re only worried about one person.

"James?"

Nothing.

"James, are you okay?" you can’t help but worry, his silence snapping you out of the trance you were in, you close the box you were still staring at and put it safely in your pocket, your hand going to your ear instinctively.

"Bucky?!" He still doesn’t answer.

You hear a bip behind you and Friday lets you know the download is complete, you take the drive and make your way out, your worry only increasing with every step.

"Does anyone have eyes on Barnes?" you ask the rest of the team.

"Oh no." Clint says, and you stop immediately, your heart beating out of your chest.

"What?! You can’t just say ‘oh no’ and not elaborate, Barton!" your mind is going into overdrive, not knowing what to expect.

"I have eyes on him, but you’re not gonna like it."

"What do you mean, Clint?! just say it!" this time Steve is the one to snap at him.

"He’s getting surrounded, it looks like he’s passed out." you swear you can actually feel your heart stopping.

"Can anybody get to him?" you say desperately.

"He’s got maybe 2 minutes before he’s surrounded, everybody’s too far or too busy." yeah, Clint’s really not giving you any good news today.

"Can’t you help him out?!" you almost yell at him.

"Not without hurting him, there are just too many!" he sounds more worried with every word and you know it’s bad. "Technically you’re the closest." He informs you and you frown.

"What do you mean, technically?" You look out the window of the corridor you found yourself in, looking towards the roof and find Clint already looking down at you while he speaks without stopping his aid of the others with his arrows.

"The second window to your left. He’s right under it." you go to said window and try to open it, but it’s closed shut.

"These windows are bulletproof, Clint can you break it somehow?"

"I can, but you could get hu-"

"Just do it!" you yell, cutting him off.

You can see him aim an arrow to the window, it hits its target and you can hear Clint counting down from 3 before it shatters.

You take no time to be careful of the glass as you take a little disk from your belt and press the button while pointing it at the ground.

A rope shoots out of it and anchors to the floor and, while attaching the other end to the back of your suit, you make a mental note to thank Tony for always updating your tactical suits with new useful gadgets.

You leap out the window, landing with your feet on the wall, basically running down on it as you take out your guns and start shooting down at the now dumbfounded agents.

Before they can even figure out where the shooting is coming from, you're on the ground next to Bucky, cutting the rope with a knife, then stabbing the agent closest to you.

You’re punching, kicking and shooting, trying your best not to get too far away from Bucky, basically shielding him with your body.

You hear a faint ‘holy shit’ from Clint and the other’s voices come through but you can’t follow the conversation, your whole focus on keeping Bucky safe.

You stray a little too far away from him as you do the take down move Natasha taught you on one of the agents, your legs around his neck as you bring him down to the ground.

When you turn around you see one guy getting dangerously close to Bucky’s unconscious body and you feel a sudden burst of possessiveness throughout your own body.

"He’s mine." you basically growl, taking a knife from the body of the guy you just took down and throwing it.

It lodges perfectly in his throat and he goes down right away, blood pouring out of him. You have no time to be disgusted as you keep taking down agents and, one after the other, they all drop.

The second the last one touches the ground, you're kneeling down next to Bucky.

"Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don't be dead..." you keep repeating, looking for the button on his tactical suit that monitors his health. Again, thanks Tony. You find it and press it "Friday, vitals."

"Heartbeat detected." the AI says and you immediately let out a breath of relief, not even knowing when you started holding your breath. "Head injury detected, possible concussion. Various cuts throughout his body. No other injuries detected."

It could be worse.

You give yourself a second to breathe while looking at Bucky, then talk into your comm, not taking your eyes off of him.

"Ok, guys, uhm... Bucky’s ass may be cute but it’s heavy. I’m gonna need a hand here." you hear some snickers and then Clint’s voice. "Cap and Sam are on their way."

You’re still looking at Bucky, almost worried that the second you take your eyes off of him his heartbeat is gonna stop, when you hear footsteps behind you and, almost automatically, you grab a knife next to your foot and throw it.

You hear it before you see it, the metal of the knife hitting Cap’s shield before he lowers it and, his face shocked and glad for his fast reflexes, he says "Relax, it’s just us."

"Sorry, I’m a little jumpy."

"Gee, wonder why." Sam says sarcastically as you turn back to Bucky.

"Just take James to the jet, Sam."

"Why do I have to carry his ass?" he whines like a child.

"Because you can fly, birdbrain, you’ll get there before we make it to the front gate." you’re almost irritated at this point, but when you turn to the duo and Sam gives you an unimpressed look, you sigh and try to calm down.

"Sorry, just… take him to safety. Please." Your voice is soft now, Bucky’s well-being the only thing on your mind. Sam picks up on your concern and gets serious, moving towards Bucky to pick him up.

"I’ll take him to the jet. See you guys there." and with that, he takes off.

You watch him go for a second before you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see Steve’s equally concerned face.

"Relax, you heard Friday, he’s gonna be fine. Even if he does have a concussion the serum will heal him in an instant." you know he's right, thanks to the serum his bones heal overnight, a concussion is nothing.

But still, you can’t help the worry you feel.

"I’ll relax when he’s awake and I can see he’s fine." he’s about to say something back when you hear Tony’s voice in your ear.

"If you two are done making out about it, we really should be getting out of here." you roll your eyes and smile a little at the pink color Steve’s cheeks were turning while you start making your way to the front courtyard of the base where Natasha and Tony are still holding off the remaining Hydra agents that just seemed to keep coming.

The second he sees you both giving them a hand, Tony takes off towards the roof. "Incoming, Robin Hood, get ready for take off."

This is your cue to get to the jet, Steve, Natasha and you making your way to the front gate while still fighting, the remaining agents scrambling away the second the explosions inside the building start.

You all get to the jet and, after making sure everyone’s inside, Steve turns to Clint. "Take us home, Barton." he merely nods and makes his way to the pilot's seat, immediately taking off.

You make a beeline to where Bucky’s lying on a gurney, still unconscious.

"How is he?" you ask Bruce without taking your eyes away from the super soldier’s face.

"He’s okay, his cuts are already starting to heal themselves, so should be his head injury. He should wake up maybe within the hour, two tops." you nod and make your way to the chair beside his bed, taking his right hand in both of yours. 

You don���t know why you do that, now that you think about it you’ve probably not even touched Bucky in general more than a handful of times.

You’re not the closest of friends, you work well together in the field and get along outside of it, you hang out in group settings such as game and movie nights, team trainings and the team-building outings Tony forces everybody to go on, but that’s about it.

The lack of one on one interactions, though, didn’t help you escape your growing crush for the long-haired super soldier. You just can’t help the warm feeling you get every time he’s even in the same room, let alone when he looks at you.

You can hide it when you’re in mission mode, always being professional, but the second it happens in a normal setting like the living room or the kitchen or the gym you turn into a flustered schoolgirl, stumbling over your words and blushing every time you have his attention.

You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t notice, if he has he hasn’t said anything, but for your own piece of mind you pretend he just doesn’t.

Sometimes it seems like he does it on purpose, though. He’d get close enough that you can smell his cologne and basically feel his body heat.

Sometimes his hands hover on your waist while he passes by you, never actually touching you but just close enough to make you almost pass out at the feeling.

And you can swear you can see a smirk on his face, but it always disappears so fast it’s just easier to convince yourself you’re imagining it.

He would have the most innocent face while asking you if something’s wrong, and all you can answer with is a small ‘I’m fine’ before basically running away, never once seeing the smug look on his face at the flustered state only he manages to put you in.

You’re brought out of your head by Steve’s hand on your shoulder, again, as he says "he’s gonna be fine."

"It’s my fault…" you say quietly, ignoring his attempt at comforting you.

"It’s not y-" you interrupt him before he can even finish.

"Yes, it is. I distracted him." You say firmly before your voice softens. "They were so close to getting him, Steve..."

You can’t take your eyes off of Bucky, almost willing him to wake up, so you could apologize. "Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if they got to him? What they could’ve done to him…" you trail off, not wanting to voice all the possibilities out loud.

Of course you know Steve knows. He worries more than you for Bucky, his best friend, basically his brother, the only family he has left from his past life.

But Steve is having none of it.

"You wanna play the blame game? He wasn’t even supposed to be on this mission, but I couldn’t stop him. He knew what it entailed, he knew it was a base full of hydra agents, but he didn’t back down because it was the right thing to do. He wants to do good and help us take down Hydra for good, he knows the risks but it was his choice. You can’t take that on you." Logically you know he's annoyingly right, again, but looking at Bucky laying motionless you can’t help the guilt that creeps up on you. 

"Friday," you say quietly, ignoring Steve’s confused look "play the footage of Bucky before he passed out coupled with the audio from our comms."

The hologram on the table in the middle of the jet lights up and Bucky’s figure can be seen fighting, then you can hear your own voice telling your theory to the group and Bucky halts for a second, he almost gets punched but avoids it at the last second, hitting the guy with his metal arm.

Steve turns to you with a smug look, knowing he was right, but you raise your hand before he can say anything and keep watching.

You see Bucky fighting and hear yourself calling his name and you can see his eyes rolling when you call him James. He’s asked you countless times to call him Bucky, but you always refuse, not sure why.

All you know it’s that it kind of annoys him but in a different way than when Sam or Peter annoy him, you can tell he’s not actually upset, it’s kind of your own little thing with him seeing as he doesn’t allow anyone else call him by his first name.

You can see Bucky still fighting and ignoring you, but when he hears you call him “Bucky” for the first time he stops, right as an agent is throwing a punch.

You see Bucky get hit in the jaw, stumble and fall, his head hitting the wall behind him pretty hard. He doesn’t get up, but you see the last agent standing get taken out by an arrow, Clint you assume.

You can hear your alarmed conversation with Clint as more agents slowly creep up on Bucky, probably being cautious, worried he could wake up any second, then there’s the sound of bullets flying and agents getting hit.

Suddenly you’re there.

You take your eyes off the screen, about to tell Steve that even he can’t deny now that it was your fault, but the whole team's attention was on the footage of you mercilessly taking out man after man, even Clint’s there watching after putting the jet on autopilot.

The look on your face frightening to the point where you almost don’t recognize yourself.

You don’t want to relive the moment, so you shift your attention back on Bucky, your hands still holding onto his.

You can hear Clint’s “holy shit” and then your “he’ mine” and you feel yourself heat up at the possessiveness in your voice.

The video gets paused and you can hear Tony asking "what the fuck was that?" his voice clearly amused, and you know what he’s asking you.

Before you can answer though, you feel Bucky’s hand squeeze yours softly, your eyes snaps down to it and then to his face while getting up from your chair.

He’s mumbling something that sounds very similar to your name but his eyes are still closed.

"James?" he slowly opens his eyes and they instantly find yours, a smile forming on his face that you can’t but mirror.

"How do you feel, Buck?" Steve asks him from beside you.

"Like I got hit really hard in the head." he groans while he tries to sit up, his hand still holding onto yours while you help him.

"Take it easy," Bruce tells him while stopping next to him on his other side "you probably don’t have a concussion, but I’d put some ice on your head to help with the headache."

"I’ll get it." you let go of Bucky, and walk to the mini freezer to get the ice pack.

Bucky takes a moment to look around him, his eyes landing on the screen where you’re frozen mid-fight.

"Friday, unpause the video." he says, curiosity taking over.

He watches you fight, protecting him with your life and he swears he’s never been more in awe in his life. He sees you get on your knees next to him and hears your whispers, praying for him to be okay, over and over.

He sees the relief in your face when Friday tells you he’s alive and he hears you call his ass “cute” as you ask the others for help, making him smile again.

"Friday, stop the footage." you say, ice in your hands but maintaining a safe distance from Bucky, embarrassed that he saw how worried you were for him.

You stand there in silence for a second while Bucky turns to look at you, the smirk on his face definitely real. You blush, cursing your body for how it reacts to his gaze, while Steve clears his throat.

"Why don’t we give you guys a minute..." he ushers everyone to the front of the jet, almost having to wrestle Tony to take him away from what he called 'his new favorite show'.

Bucky extends his right hand for you to take and you do as you get closer, your left hand going to carefully place the ice on the back of his head.

He hisses a little at the contact and you wince, giving him an apologetic smile, but his eyes never leave yours and his hand squeezes yours, letting you know he’s okay.

"I’m sorry." That's all you can say and, whatever you were expecting him to answer, it was definitely not what he says next.

"You should be." you bite your lip to stop it from trembling, your emotions getting the best of you and your guilt only growing, but he keeps going, "You distracted me. You’ve never said my name before, and it was the sweetest sound to ever come out of your mouth. Shame on you for keeping it from me for so long, doll."

He brings you closer to him, taking your hand in his left, his right going around your waist as he rests his chin on your stomach while looking up at you, your left hand still holding the ice to the back of his head.

You giggle at the puppy look he’s giving you, trying to resist the urge of leaning down and kissing him.

"Smooth, Barnes." he laughs with you, before growing more serious.

"You looked really worried." you feel your emotions bubbling up again.

"I was…" you say, your voice small "I’m sorry you got hurt because of me" you're basically whispering, afraid that if you raise your voice any louder the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold off will start falling.

"It’s not your fault, doll." before you can protest, he keeps going "and I’m fine. We’re all fine. I just took a little nap."

You roll your eyes at his attempt at a joke but can’t hide the smile starting to form on your face while he gives you a grin of his own.

You're so lost in his eyes that you almost forget about the reason all of this happened.

You let go of his hand and he gives you a confused look with a slight pout on his lips that just makes you smile more.

"Bucky," you start, taking the little box out of your pocket, but he interrupts you with an exaggerated gasp.

"Are you asking me to marry you, doll? Because, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but maybe we should go on a date first." you can't help but laugh as you gave him a little shove, careful not to hurt him more.

"I’m not asking you to marry me, you jackass." you get more serious as you look at the box in your hand.

You don’t even realize you're biting your lip until Bucky reaches up and tugs it out. You look back at him and feel weirdly nervous, not knowing how he'll react.

"I found this at the base, and I’m pretty sure it belongs to you" you laugh a little out of nerves as he lets go of you to take the box and opens it.

He lets out a real gasp this time, fishing out the tags and holding them in his flesh hand, his face unreadable.

He looks back up at you and for a second your brain goes to the worst case scenario in which there's a lot of blood and screaming, but that image is quickly forgotten as Bucky gives you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

He places his hands behind your thighs and effortlessly moves you to straddle him, his movements so fast that you drop the ice pack out of surprise, but you don’t have time to do much as Bucky starts peppering kisses all over your face.

Your surprise turns into giggles and he slowly stops his assault, the smile never living his face, the look on his eyes that of pure adoration. "Thank you, doll… You don’t know what this means to me."

You don’t know if you’re imagining it, but you think Bucky’s starting to lean up and you think he’s about to kiss you when you hear a whistle followed by a slapping sound and an “ow”.

You both turn towards the sound to find the whole team looking at you two, Steve has a smirk on his face, Tony’s next to him, rubbing the back of his head and the rest of them are snickering.

"Seriously?!" your irritation does nothing to hide your blush, Bucky’s own embarrassment clear as he hides his face in your chest. 

"What? Capsicle said a minute, we gave you a minute!" Tony said, earning another slap on the back of his head from Steve.

"Just go away!" you say laughing and they all go back to the front of the jet but you can hear their little laughs while they whisper, making you roll your eyes before looking down at Bucky who’s already looking up at you.

"Can you do me a favor, doll?" he asks you and you nod.

"Anything."

"I’d hate to lose these. Hold on to them for me?" he says, holding up his dog tags.

"Are you sure?" you ask uncertainly as he puts them around your neck.

"I’m more than sure." he says while looking at them on your chest and then looking back into your eyes, his smile impossibly big and you’re sure yours looks the same.

He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer and you wrap one arm around his neck, your other hand going to play with the tags around your neck. You’re looking down at them when Bucky speaks again.

"So," He starts, his smile becoming a teasing smirk. "you think my ass is cute, huh?"

You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your reaction.

You can hear the others laughing too and can’t help the laugh that comes out of you, more sure now than ever that everything is gonna be okay.

[thevanillerose]

ICY | YANDERE!JACK FROST x READER | RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Unhealthy relationship | Murder | Stockholm Syndrome A/N: NOSTALGIA. Remember this movie? Remember the chokehold it had on Tumblr? "Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons", baby! This is absolutely a childhood crush I've kept alive, and since it's winter-time it's ideal to post this! It's yandere though, and as I was re-reading it (I wrote it a while back) I was a little shook at how dark it got! I mean...'murder' is literally one of the content warnings, so... So...you've been warned. Happy Holidays! ♡

Freezing.

You were so damn cold...it hurt.

“J-Jack...I-I'm sorry...p...p-please stop--!”

It wasn't just thanks to the wide open window to your room. It was thanks to the boy who had left it that way, and who was now perched on the bottom board of your bed, crouching on his haunches with his arms resting atop his thighs and an undeniably smug expression.

He knew he had the upper hand here. With little effort, just a wave of his staff, he had turned your once heated upstairs bedroom into a frigid nightmare, colder than even the white-laden landscape of the suburbs outside. You were sitting stiffly and shakily on the top of your sheets. You could feel the frost on top of your nails. Every vein in your body felt like solid glass.

Why was Jack doing this to you? Why couldn't he accept that you had other friends in your life besides him?

“But I'm the only friend you need, [Y/N].”

Of course. You couldn't forget the day he joined in the snowball fight (enchanting those who couldn't see him, a.k.a everyone but you) and only ended up getting aggressive. When you chastised him for it afterwards, he'd told you that. Naturally, you hadn't been able to understand his point of view, so at the time you had brushed off his comment like dusting snowflakes off your shoulder.

Now though...he wasn't allowing you that option. Without a choice, you just had to oblige him...or you'd freeze to death.

“...” Jack let out a sigh, his icy breath creating no cloud in the air as he tilted his head and observed your shivering form. When you were all huddled up like that you looked like nothing but a child, miniscule against the expanse of your bed. His own shadow was cast across you, making him look far bigger for it. Here he had the upper hand, and it had been as simple as clambering in through your bedroom window while you were asleep.

Of course, he'd taken some time to do a little extra work downstairs before though. Just as...added incentive.

About time he dropped the ice bomb, so to speak.

“...It's simple, sweetheart. If you want to make sure I don't suspend you in a block of ice tonight and keep you that way forever, I suggest you go along with my request. All you have to do is come with me. Come with me and you'll never have to worry about you or your friends getting hurt.”

He rested his cheek on his knuckle and gazed at you lovingly.

“After all, I won't have any reason to be angry after I get what I want.”

Nothing he said boded well. Besides, how could he expect you to just up and abandon your whole life here in favor of flying away to some wintry Neverland? Sorry but, Antarctica was hardly Hawaii.

“I-I can't go with you Jack! Y-y-you know that! I...I live here...e-everything I know is here. M...my...f-family-”

“Family? Family? Hahaha~!” Jack let out a boyish laugh, and suddenly hopped off the edge of your bed, walking instead to the door and pulling it open. You stared out into the darkened stairwell.

“If you still think your family are holding you back, why don't you take a look downstairs?”

Swallowing uneasily, you got up after a moment and walked out reluctantly into the hallway. As soon as you stepped onto the landing after him, you noted that the carpet was crisp with crystals of ice, and with a sharp shudder you spotted that the stairs were almost lethally slick.

“Wh...what-?”

“Don't worry. Here, I'll carry you.”

Without warning, Jack's blue sleeve wrapped around your middle, and you gasped with fright as he leapt up with you and soared down to the lower floor. Clinging to him until it was over, which was only briefly, you immediately pushed away and stumbled into the kitchen.

“M-Mom!? Dad-”

Your own cries for them were cut off by the shocking sight that soon unveiled itself. As you clumsily skated on your bare feet across the linoleum, you caught yourself on the edge of the island counter just in time, and stared across to the other side of it.

They must have been having some late night hot chocolate and chatting. They'd probably intended to bring you some too, before they had been frozen in place together, your father mid conversation, the mug fallen from your mother's hand and still floating in a column of blue, with a cascade of now petrified liquid spewing forth from the rim. Her mouth ajar, it said it all.

“AHHH!!!”

You let out a horrible scream and dropped to your knees, clutching both temples as you stared up at their corpses. You could only assume they were dead. How could someone turn into a literal winter statue and yet somehow survive from it?

Jack tutted and approached from behind, wrapping both arms around your limp and sobbing form so he could lift you up against him. Your head fell back towards his chest, so his lips neatly met your ear when he spoke:

“You've alerted the neighbors now. Thanks for the excuse.”

Wasting no time, he rushed out of there, and he took you with him...

…

When you had envisaged Jack's Antarctica, you had thought of nothing but a colorless, pallid plateau, upon which nothing existed but snow and ice. It was...somewhat like that...but to give Jack credit, he'd made a home among the wilderness.

A large, glassy castle, not dissimilar to something the Snow Queen herself might have lived in, stood out upon the horizon. You could vaguely remember your surprise when you first saw it there, but the days following your arrival had all started to melt together, the tragedy of losing your family having left you totally bewildered...and almost hollow.

He took advantage of that. Given who he was, the impish fellow proved to be a master of manipulation, and you basically became putty in his hands over time. It wasn't like you could leave this place without his help, so you started to become used to living here. When Jack brought you hot chocolate that somehow didn't melt the mug it was poured in, you found yourself feeling genuinely grateful. Frigid as it was, you grew used to the place. It started to feel cozy.

“I considered taking you to the North Pole before, but things went a little sour between me and the other Guardians. We don't exactly see eye to eye anymore, so I do my own thing now. Isn't that better though?”

He smirked down at you devilishly, as he entered your room and sat down on the edge of your new bed, the whole set-up just a sterile imitation of what you'd had before.

“Yes Jack...” you uttered emptily, and drank a little. When a drop of it traced down your chin you barely seemed to notice, but he did, reaching out to wipe it with his thumb, before leaning in and giving you a tender kiss on the lips. Even his kisses had started to taste sweet lately.

He pulled back, and gazed at you knowingly.

“We're going to stay here forever. Frozen in time...”

His ice blue eyes were all you could see.

“Just you and I...”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[airenyah]

so. at the beginning of the month i forced hidden agenda on my mom, right? and originally i was planning on spending my semester break watching also last twilight and only friends to talk acting. well, after hidden agenda we ended up doing a star in my mind rewatch instead (which she actually watched live with me back when it aired)

and at some point while we were discussing acting stuff about joong(dunk) i decided i urgently needed to watch mafia the series with her too bc i felt a desperate need to talk to her about joong doing comedy (bc he's fucking GOOD at comedy and i really needed to show her that)

the thing is, i didn't tell my mother shit about mafia the series. i just went "mom. there's a series i n e e d you to watch. it's a mafia series. i won't tell you the reason why i want you to watch it, but trust me, you'll know once you see it"

(oh and some extra backstory to make the whole thing i'm about to write about even funnier: right before we watched ep1 i actually showed my mom the tiktok trend videos that joong and dunk posted yesterday. meaning my mom actually saw joong's face RIGHT before we went into mafia the series. this will be relevant in a bit)

so we start episode 1 and get thrown straight into a fight scene. a minute or two in my mom says "i assume the cast includes someone we know" and i'm like :) and my mom continues "and i assume it's gun" and i'm like 🤭🤭🤭 (while also wondering just how she didn't IMMEDIATELY clock that it was gonna be joong, considering how we've only watched joongdunk shows all month and how i've been showing her loads of excerpts from joongdunk interviews and behind the scenes or some of their social media posts, ESP after i showed her the joongdunk tiktoks right beforehand)

the episode continues and one character is asked about his son shortly before it cuts to the intro (which i skip as fast as humanly possible, praying it won't land on joong and ruin the surprise (it didn't)), followed by a scene at the character's house. the reveal starts:

my mom says "the son will be the actor we know". i quietly go 😏

the camera pans up the bed and the actor turns around to face the camera as it reaches his upper body and we get the face reveal:

my mom goes "is that ohm?????"

i try to keep a poker face. internally i'm screaming in WHAT world does this look like ohm pawat?????? HOW do you not recognize joong here???? you LITERALLY SAW his face only 5 mins ago in their tiktoks?????

the scene continues. the character speaks. my mom knows she knows the voice. i'm giggling. the character makes his way down the stairs

"oh wait, is it the other one???" my mom says. i hesitate. did she finally get it? i wonder. i know she's been struggling a little with the names. she remembers what their names are but she keeps forgetting which one is joong and which one is dunk. she also knows dunk has done only two main roles, both of which we've already watched this month. is she thinking of dunk but can't remember what his bl-partner's name is?

i'm confused. "which other one?" i ask

"the other one from bad buddy."

"ohhh, nanon?" okay, she still has no clue. good thing i didn't say anything yet to confirm or deny and asked for clarification instead. "no, it's not nanon", i tell her.

the character sits down for breakfast

"AH!!"

there it is. my mom doesn't even say anything, she just makes a loud "ah" sound, but i don't need clarification this time. this time i know for sure she's correctly identified who it is. i start laughing. so does my mom. "alles klar", she laughs. and with that she has finally figured out the first part of the puzzle of why i'm forcing this series on her

*("alles klar" is a phrase that literally translates to "everything is clear" and means something like "alright" or "i understand" or "i know what's up" or "i got it")

i'm doing it, i just sat my mom down for mafia the series hehehe

[morozaleks]

Draco Malfoy NSFW Alphabet

I know this has been done for draco so many times but this seemed so fun so I had to. Also, feel free to add to the post if you have other ideas of what draco would be like (this was mostly about mean!draco because he’s my favourite lol)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s not the most affectionate person so he’ll probably do the bare minimum like clean you up, maybe run you a bath.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite part of his body is..uhh…his dick. He’s blessed and he knows it. His favourite part of your body is your mouth. He finds your lips very alluring, when you talk, when you smile…which leads to the next thing

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I really think he’s the type to finish in your mouth and also make sure you swallow. It would be like a test of your obedience/submission (and less cleanup involved lol)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Draco’s dirty secret is that he loves when you both leave marks on each other. Like bruises on your ass after he spanks you, scratches on his back from your nails, hickeys, bite marks, etc. He likes to mark you as a way of owning you and he likes when you mark him because he secretly enjoys the slight pain that’s my explanation and I’m right

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This might be controversial but hear me out…I think he would seem very experienced because he’s good at pleasing you, but he hasn’t actually had that much experience. He has a lot of other things to focus on and sex/romantic relationships aren’t the biggest priority.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He’s literally so arrogant and conceited. He likes when you do all the work and he just gets to lie back and enjoy. Bonus: your tits bouncing in his face Draco Malfoy is a boob man change my mind

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Completely serious. The only time you’d see him laugh/smile during sex is when he’s mocking you. You’d be like whimpering and whining and he’d be like *mean chuckle* ‘am I too much for you to take?’

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Again this is probably controversial but…I think Draco would be one of those clean-shaven guys. He likes to keep everything neat and tidy. On the rare chance that he does forget to shave, it would still barely be noticeable since his hair is light blond and fine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s definitely not the most romantic person and he mostly just cares about making himself feel good but he gives you some crumbs now and then, letting a few words of praise/affection slip during the act when he’s lost in his own pleasure.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it when you’re around but you’re busy/not really focused on him and he does it to get your attention because he’s a needy boy OR when you’ve really been bratty he’ll make you watch while he does it and not let you touch him even when you beg.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, sir kink, domination, brat-taming are the big ones because he likes the power dynamic and having control/authority over you. Maybe also a bit of praise kink? He likes the ego boost when you tell him how good he is etc.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

I could imagine him having a preference for the shower. When he doesn’t have a lot of time, it’s a good way to multitask. A shower and sex session all in one. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much. He’s always in the mood, especially when he’s upset or stressed about something. Because he’s not great at dealing with emotions in a healthy way, he’ll uses sex with you for relief/distraction to make himself feel better.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn’t do anything that would actually be harmful to you or cause excessive pain he might be harsh but he likes to take care of his possessions lol  and I don’t think he would really be into bondage either way because he prefers being able to touch you as much as he wants and to feel your hands all over him, clawing at his back, pulling his hair, etc.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to receive more (I’m sorry but he’s an arrogant prick and he’s sexy for that). Using your mouth for his pleasure is his favourite thing. However, he does also enjoy giving because he’s good at it and he likes to show off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough all the way. He prefers it like that and so do you. Although, he might go slow when he’s teasing you and he wants to hear you beg for him to go faster/harder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

While he usually prefers a long unhurried session so he can show off all his skills, he is also into quickies. He’s a busy man, so he’ll do a quick session whenever he can and he definitely knows how to satisfy you even in a short amount of time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would be open to experimenting. He would enjoy pushing your limits and maybe also expanding his own too. As for taking risks, yeah, I think he’d fuck you anywhere anytime and not give a damn about who might catch you in the act. Like he’s definitely the type to play with you under the table while having a completely indifferent expression on his face.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He usually does just a couple rounds but he can last surprisingly long. This boy knows all about control and restraint.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His love language is gift-giving, so of course he’s going to buy you all kinds of exciting toys and have fun trying them out on you to see how you react.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you all the time. It’s about the power dynamic and having control over you. He loves teasing you and making you beg for him, making sure you know that’s he’s the one in control not you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s typically quiet himself, maybe a little grunting, because he prefers to listen to the noises you make for him. Although, he’s loud when he’s cumming because he can’t help it, like swearing and moaning your name before he can think to stop himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves morning sex. It’s the best way to start the day. It immediately puts him in a good mood and he’s thinking about it for the rest of the day.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average length, good girth, but also not too big. It’s a stretch to take all of him but it doesn’t cause you pain/discomfort if he takes time to prepare you and ease you into it he doesn’t always

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He is a spoilt, greedy boy. He wants it all the time and he can never get enough.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He only falls asleep after you do. He has trouble sleeping because he’s got so much on his mind. Also, he seems like the type to stay awake for a while afterwards so he can watch you sleep, either because he’s actually soft for you but doesn’t want you to know or because he’s just admiring how wrecked and exhausted you are because of him.

[onlyseokmins]

a tiger's dominion [teaser] • k.s.y.

“Some days you tame the tiger, and some days the tiger has you for lunch.” 

Pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader

Genres: porn with PLOT (minors dni!), camstars!au, university!au, best friends/idiots!au, goofy comedy, cheesy fluff, and angst

Teaser Warnings: swearing, maybe some angst wahoo, smut, sex toys (collars/leashes, ball gag lol fsdkjfj), um I think that's it wheee

Teaser WC: ~0.9k

A/N: If you saw me post this by accident NO YOU DIDN'T anyways ~ it's almost here! My svthub fic! Banner made by the illustrious @huiranghaes :3 Please check out the other awesome fics in the collab on the masterlist!! Pspspspps if you haven't read @onlymingyus fun lil origin story for my Hoshi, please do so as well! I will be sure to keep this updated with each part I post, thank you for your hopeful interest!! (Snippets are subject to change until released 😄)

Personal Taglist: @aceofvernons @joshibambi @junhui-recs @httpswonwoosglasses @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @noraehey @charcharfairy @woozluv @hoshistar96

◇ Part 1: [Read here!]

➯ snippet: (full length ~8k)

Once you've confirmed that you've turned off the recording and your computer is shut off, you collapse on your bed. Feeling woozy and sluggish, an arm flops across your closed eyes. This was by no means the first time Soonyoung has been in your thoughts during a livestream. Even now after all that, you feel yourself clench instinctively, the feeling blossoming even more because he had been watching you. Talking to you. Commanding you.

Fuck.

You're afraid that once you get a real taste of him you won't be able to let him go. Ever. You'll want him more than he wants you and you're not sure if you can handle that.

But this collaboration is happening. You might as well get the chance to fuck him once in your life than never at all.

Tears wash away in the shower, disappearing down the drain. For the hundredth time, you push down your feelings and let the warm water soothe away the aches and pains instead. Self-care is a must. Fluffy towels dry away the moisture, lotion to keep your skin smooth, and comfy granny pajamas to curl up under your clean bedsheets. Time for a good wallow in your feels.

◇ Part 2: [Read here!]

➯ snippet: (full length: 21k)

beg4gyu: N E WAYZ why is he called 0rginaltiger if he's 69th 🤔🤔🤔

That makes you laugh and turn back to Soonyoung with a devious smirk, hand brushing against his bulging cheek. "Wanna tell 'em, tiger boy?"

It's a mocking tone you use, the ball gag still in his mouth obviously preventing the man from uttering anything except incomprehensible sounds at this point. He's not below begging in whatever way desired — rather be drowning in your arousal than his own saliva — and raises his eyebrows pleadingly. Dancer hips hump up pathetically but oh-so-temptingly, another strangled whine thrown in for good measure and shiny eyes threatening to tear up. 

Of course, you concede to finally taking it and helping with his boxers after removing the leash that's left pretty red streaks across his forearms showing where he strained against the binding. Your hands brush tenderly across the marks, a questioning hum while you wait for him to collect himself to respond.

"Guess we should," Soonyoung eventually chokes out in a raspy voice, "ya know…" a little too eager in the way he reaches for your hips, "demonstrate."

You click your tongue and gently yank on the collar before he can touch. His upper body jerks forward, merely inches from your face, nose brushing against his. 

"I don't remember you having the control here, Hoshi."

"Ah, but don't forget to lemme know if I'm doing a good job like before… "

And with that, you respond by pushing against his chest after the saucy wink and smirk sent your way. Urging your best friend to lay down on his back so you can place your knees around his waist, untying one side of your panties with a flourish while he rushes to slide a naughty hand over to assist with the other. Across the room they fly, joining the discarded toys on the floor with the nastiest splat imaginable.

NewUser94594: holy shit! 🫣 💦

dickarawrous420: my god... 👅

deathbyd1cks: 👁️ did sum1 say before? 

deathbydicks: hahaha n e ways — ruined ☑ 

You can't even be bothered to care, all your focus instead on the heat of your bare cunt pressed against Soonyoung's hard abs just as you imagined. He seems to be in a better mood and is finally obeying. But you don't like the look of the mischievous glint in his eyes when his teeth sink into his bottom lip, feeling what a sopping mess you still are.

He's covered in it. And he hopes for more. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," slips out before he can stop it which causes you to click your tongue to cover up the fact you're extremely flattered, cheeks aflame.

"Looks like I'll have to shut you up, huh?"

Twisting around and moving further up his body until your fluttering hole is over his mouth, you see his brow raise questionably.

"Aren't you gonna... ?"

"Work for it," you interrupt with a command and don't wait for his reply before seating yourself against his swollen lips. "Work for it and maybe I'll suck you off as a reward, baby boy."

◇ Part 3: [TBA]

➯ snippet: (full length: tbd)

"Listen to your gut."

"Isn't it 'listen to your heart'?" you ask, referencing the comfort song with a tilt of your head.

"Your heart tends to follow based on emotions and your brain holds you back out of caution of getting hurt. But if you trust your intuition and interpret it correctly, it will never lead you astray."

"Okay, Dr. Lee, thanks so much for your cryptic advice."

"Anytime," Seokmin leans back with a smug smile despite your sarcasm, "I look forward to seeing the results."

"That's because it won't be your heart that's being broken."

"I was in the exact place a year ago and look what happened — thanks to your encouragement, no less. So, don't think like that. I have a good feeling."

"You say that but it's better to brace myself for the inevitable heartbreak, no?" You stand up and push in your chair. "Either way, I expect to be taken out for ice cream to soothe my dick-whipped woes."

Seokmin opens the door for you and you duck under his arm as he shakes his head with a good-natured smile. "You're whipped for something, that's for sure. Fine, it's a date. Perhaps even a double-date. I look forward to meeting this tiger boy of yours in person."

onlyseokmins: September 2022 ©

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Conversation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 7661 (Don’t come at me - you guys asked for it)

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Fluff, Feelings, I Dunno What Else, This One’s Pretty Chill, Except The Ending, But You’ll See When You Get There

A/N: Here it is! I was hesitant about posting it because that means we’re getting closer to the end and I’m such a nostalgic bitch! I’m definitely gonna cry next week when the last episode comes out! Anyways, I’ve got a few things to talk about:

I think this is one of the most important chapters I’ve written and I’m excited to see your reactions to it. It is longer, but you guys asked for that, so you got it! Also, I’m loving the Asks, Comments, and Reblogs. I try to respond to all of them. I have work in a little bit, so I won’t be able to until after, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ask me anything; about my series, the show, any of the movies, personal stuff, I really don’t care. If you’re not comfortable, that’s totally fine! Every like means so much to me!

I know it’s not the end yet - we’ve got one more episode and a list of One Shots to get through - but there’s a definite feeling of this series coming to an end, and I just want to thank you all for the support and love you’ve been giving it! I’ve really enjoyed writing these characters and this story! It’s very, very special to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to share it with you lovely people!

On that note, be kind to yourselves and others! Thank you again for reading! Excuse any mistakes - this isn’t beta’d! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT! (Sorry for the gifs I just love them so much and he’s so pretty and this part is technically two parts so...you get four!)

“Louisiana.” Bucky hummed, looking around the airport.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything interesting about Louisiana in here, doofus. Let’s call an Uber.”

“An Ooper? What the hell is an Ooper?”

You giggled, shaking your head and grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the luggage carousel. “Uber. It’s like…a taxi service. But there’s an app on your phone to get a driver instead of waiting for one on the street.”

“Oh.” He blinked, tilting his head. “That’s…helpful.”

You laughed again, stopping in front of Carousel 3, where your flight from New York was assigned. You went back to New York to grab a bag with clean clothes and other necessities, along with taking a real shower for once. It was nice to be back in the States, as much as you loved traveling. It’d been a crazy few weeks and you were ready to just relax.

“Do you think there were any problems with Sammy’s present?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Especially considering they know who we are.”

You snickered at his slight grumble. They had had…problems at the other two airports - first the one in Sokovia then JFK in New York - considering Bucky’s entire arm was metal. It’d taken a full hour before they actually let you go, and by that time they had to give you a new plane because yours had left.

“Seriously. Who else has a fucking metal arm and has 1917 listed as their birth year on their Driver’s License?” You giggled again. That was also true. They thought he was messing with them. It wasn’t until you stepped in a few minutes after they asked Bucky to step to the side, seeing Bucky get frustrated, that they realized Bucky wasn’t pulling their legs.

“Well, we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded in agreement, watching for your bags, his hand finding yours when he realized how many people there were. “Do you know where he lives? I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He invited me over once. I declined, but I saved the address.”

“He…invited you over?” Bucky frowned.

You gave him a look. “I’m sure he invited you, too. You just never checked his texts.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Yeah, no, I know, but I mean…why didn’t you go? Weren’t you two just talking about how you wanted to meet his nephews the other day?”

“Yeah, but I had gotten a tip on Wanda at the time and I didn’t want to miss the chance that she was there. He told me it was fine. I still felt really bad. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. I think it was one of the boys’ birthdays. Or something. I don’t remember. Is that bad? Yeah, probably. I really should remember. Maybe I should keep track of birthdays on my calendar or something.”

“Doll.” You looked up to find him giving you a magnificent smile, teeth and all. “You’re rambling.”

“Oh. Am I? Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head quickly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. I’m just not used to you talking so much. You kinda did on the phone sometimes.”

You shrugged, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck at his words. “I rambled a lot to Steve.”

“Oh.”

His face fell, making you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, nudging him slightly to grin at him. “It’s nice to have someone to ramble to again, though.” There was that smile again. You were stopped from saying anything more when you noticed some kids pointing and chattering excitedly at a gleaming silver box coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. “There it is.”

He looked over his shoulder, dropping your hand and stepping over to grab it, lifting it effortlessly. You didn’t know what was in it or how heavy it was, but you were sure it felt like a feather to him.

“Alright. Got our bag, sweetheart?” You lifted up the duffle in answer and he jerked his head towards the doors. “Let’s get outta here, then. Call that Booper or whatever.”

“U-B-E-R! Ub-er!” You threw your hands up, following him as he started walking towards the exit. “What’s so hard about it?!”

He just gave you a little smirk over his shoulder.

***************

Bucky kept asking the Uber driver questions about his job. The guy was super nice and patient the whole time, a thick southern accent lacing his answers. Southern hospitality was no joke and apparently had no limit as Bucky asked about his experiences, listening intently and telling him his own stories of taxi drivers in NYC.

When you got to Sam’s sister’s house, Bucky, being Bucky, tipped the driver half of what you paid for the ride, thanking him for his time and energy, before getting out.

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” You teased him as you stepped up the porch stairs and knocked on the door.

He rolled his eyes, a tint of pink dusting across his cheeks. “He was nice.”

You hummed at his defense, the smile never leaving your features. After a moment, Bucky raised his fist to knock again. “Jesus Christ! Don’t fucking knock their door down!” You grabbed his wrist and lowered it.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Bucky informed you absentmindedly,  tilting his head to peek in the window. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“They’re probably at the docks, then.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The docks?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you. “Yeah. They have a boat, remember? He talked about it last week.”

“Oh right. The one he’s trying to convince his sister not to sell.”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way. I don’t know how far, but we can call the Uber back-”

Bucky scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t wanna bother him again. We can walk.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “It’s literally his job to drive people around.”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s got other people to drive?”

You lifted his metal knuckles to your lips. “Trust me, Buck, I’m sure he’d rather drive you than anyone else.”

“Thank you?”

Swinging your now linked hands, you gave a firm nod, letting him know it was, in fact, a compliment. “You are so very welcome.”

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it was, and you ended up on Bucky’s back after he kept complaining about how you “shouldn’t be walking this long” and you were “injured” and you “needed rest’”. You’re not sure how a shoulder wound affected your ability to walk, but you relented and let him carry you the rest of the way to stop his whining.

“You forget, you did pull your thigh.”

“That was, like, three weeks ago! Yeesh!”

You finally got to the docks, which were bustling with people. Bucky set you down and raised an eyebrow which you shrugged in reply to, before heading over to where you spotted Sam with a few other older men.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, pointing to a large boat engine part in the bed of a beaten up truck. Scoffing as Bucky lifted it up without breaking a sweat, you leaned against the truck. Bucky grunted and set it down, looking at Sam.

“You’re welcome.” What a punk. “Just dropping this off.” Bucky lifted the case and set it where the engine was previously, Sam coming to stand on the opposite side of the truck as you. “You can sign for it and I’ll go.” You snorted, shaking your head, making Bucky shove your shoulder - the uninjured one - playfully. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam looked at you curiously. You shrugged and shook your head. “Don’t look at me, Sammy. He wouldn’t tell me what it is. He’s all hushy hushy about it until you say so.”

Before Sam could reply, there was a squeak and hissing over at the boat where steam was coming from a few pipes.

“Sam!” You knew that was Sarah from pictures Sam showed you. You stayed up by the truck, pulling yourself onto the bed while Sam tried fixing the pipe, Bucky butting in to show him how to do it properly.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

You saw Bucky lift up said metallic limb. “Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m-I’m right handed.” Letting out a laugh, Bucky turned around and scowled teasingly at you. “And what’re you laughing at?!”

“Nothing!”

“Well then get your ass over here!”

You rolled your eyes, hopping down from the truck as Bucky asked if Sam wanted help with the boat. You leaned against a wooden post, grinning when Sam looked at you.

“I don’t have any plans.”

Sam gave a small smile, jerking his head back. “Yeah.”

You jumped down onto the boat to follow him, looking over your shoulder and stopping with an amused eyebrow raised as Bucky introduced himself to Sarah. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah…Sarah.”

“Sarah.” Bucky repeated her name, before walking towards you, a grin still on his lips.

“Careful, Barnes. That playboy Steve warned me about is coming out.” You nudged him with a smirk, ignoring the feeling of your stomach dropping.

He rolled his eyes, kissing your head as he passed you and Sam to go where Sam was gesturing. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re still my doll.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, falling into step besides you and lowering his voice. “Conversation?”

“Hasn’t happened.” You informed him through clenched teeth as he groaned.

Sam gave you a list of chores that needed to be done to clean up the boat, giving you a quick tour and letting you know where all the tools needed where. You set to work immediately.

Sanding down, replacing old parts, cleaning, polishing and painting over the things that didn’t need replacing. They didn’t let you do any heavy lifting because of your stupid shoulder, but you were still able to help.

Sam had turned on some music for you to listen to, so you danced around the boat while cleaning. Turning your head when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you smiled when Bucky snapped his head back down to the wood he was sanding down.

“Gonna dance, Barnes?”

He looked back over, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m good watching you.”

Rolling your eyes, you got back to work, continuing to bop to the music, fully aware that he was watching you now.

A little while later, you were repainting the edges of the boat orange, when you looked over and noticed Bucky playing around with a paint scraper…sitting right on the edge that you had just finished repainting a few minutes ago.

“Buck!”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your mischievous grin. Shaking your head, you waved dismissively. “Never mind!”

He gave you a confused sort of pout, before shrugging and continuing to fidget with the tool. It wasn’t until later when he got up to help Sam tear the metal plating off the edge that it came to light with Sam chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“Sit in something there, Barnes?”

“What?”

Bucky craned his neck back, eyes widening when he saw the orange paint on his ass, contrasting with his jeans. You let out a cackle and he whipped towards you, pointing at you accusingly, although the small uptick of his lips let you know he wasn’t really mad.

“Y/N!”

“No, no, no!” You laughed, sprinting across the deck, shrieking when he grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when he grabbed a paint brush and painted an orange stripe right down the front of your shirt. “James!”

“Justice, sweetheart.” He breathed in your ear with a chuckle.

You shook your head, wiggling out of his hold. “This is a nice shirt!”

“You should’ve thought about that before.” He smirked, crossing his arms. Your eyes caught sight of Sam behind him, who raised an eyebrow and the bucket of paint he was holding. You nodded with a little giggle, making Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny over there, do - holy shit!

You guffawed as orange paint dripped down his head, Sam standing innocently behind him with the now empty bucket behind his back. “Samuel!”

“Oops?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Try me old man!”

“Fuck!

“Doll!”

“Oh my God!”

Paint, orange and white since those were the only cans they had out, flew across the deck, paint brushes being used like fencing swords.

You found out too late that wet paint was a little bit slippery and you slid on a huge puddle, sending you, not onto the ground below, but over the side of the edge into the water. 

“Doll!”

“Cher, you good?!” 

The three of you looked at each other, stunned for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter and you nodded. “I’m good!”

The boys helped you get back up onto the dock, Sarah appearing with towels she conjured up out of thin air. “Let’s get you into dry clothes. Do you have-?”

“We’ve got some. We got a bag.” You told her with a grin, facing the guys. “You two should clean up some, too. Sammy, you’ve got a little something right there.” You pointed to your cheek, his own having a giant white splotch from his temple to his jaw. “And Buck?” You sniggered, gesturing to the whole of him. “You’ve got a lotta something right there.” 

“Ha. Ha.” He looked down. His top was practically tiger print, drenched in orange with white here and there, and his ass still orange as well. His hair, which had been plastered to his forehead, was starting to dry now, and it only made you laugh some more thinking about what a pain it’d be to get it out. For him, at least.

“God. Can’t even have a relaxing day on the boat with you two.” Sam jested once you finished up and joined him and Bucky, who had just finished dumping out some water buckets. Bucky had changed his shirt and it looked like they tried wiping their faces, but Sam still had small lines of white down his face. “How ‘bout a couple of drinks? Surely you can’t ruin that too.”

“Ruin?” You gasped in mock offence. “Sammy! I just made the day more…interesting.”

Sam chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair, which still had orange streaks in it. “Let’s go get some beers.”

************

You chatted for a bit, mainly you and Sam with you asking how Sarah and the boys were while Bucky with your legs in his lap, just listening to you two and sipping at his bottle. You had his hand in your own lap, wiping it down with a rag due to the paint that got on it.

“You’re lucky this is vibranium, you know.” You commented off handedly. “If it was your other one, it’d definitely get stained.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky shot back with a teasing grin.

“Sammy’s.”

Sam spluttered. “Wh-what?! You started it!” You laughed, shaking your head.

Falling into a comfortable silence with just the water and birds chirping as your soundtrack, you downed the rest of your drink, which Bucky took as finished. “Well,” you moved your legs to let him stand up. He leaned forwards to clink his bottle against Sam’s and you stood up and stretched. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night.” Sam gave you a look to which you rolled your eyes at as Bucky set down his bottle and grabbed his jacket. “Crash, you know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here.” You laughed as Sam babbled on about how nice the people were here, grabbing the jacket Bucky handed to you. It was getting a bit chilly from the breeze on the water and the sun going down. Plus, that water was cold.

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

You cackled at Bucky’s face, that turned serious, his head shaking. “No.”

“‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

“Can’t hold back the dog, Wilson. It’s been stuck in a kennel too long.”

Bucky turned to you, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together. “You know what? You need to shush. You’ve been snippy all day.”

You just smiled as innocently as you could with your lips being held by his metal fingers. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

He pecked your nose. “As long as I’m the only one you’re messing with. I’ll be right back.” He let you go and spun around, maneuvering around the boat in a way only a trained assassin could do.

“Oh my God, please! Please just put me out of my fucking misery! You’re killing me, cher.”

“What?” You gaped at him.

“Don’t act innocent!” Sam huffed, giving you a pointed look. “If I have to watch you two make googly eyes at you one more fucking day with neither of you doing anything about it-”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, Sammy-”

“Don’t ‘come on, Sammy’ me! And don’t come at me with that ‘he doesn’t like me back’ bullshit. If you think for a second that boy wouldn’t follow you to the depths of the fucking ocean, you’re blind as a bat, woman.”

You shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of Bucky’s too big jacket. “It just…hasn’t come up.”

He deadpanned, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s it. I’m done. You two are driving me insane. I’m gonna lock you in a room until you have the conversation that needs to be had the next time either of you does something stupid.”

“Yikes. That’s gonna be quick.” At his look, your smile dropped and you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll…I’ll bring it up later.”

“Tomorrow or nothing.”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted his head, brow creasing. “Is it still Steve? Is that what this is still about? Because he’s gone, and he’s been gone and you need to get over it-”

“No. It’s not…” You sighed. “It clicked the other day. When we were hanging out. Steve left and, yeah, I might always love him, but Bucky…God…I love Bucky, Sam.”

The man grinned proudly. “I’m glad to finally hear you admit it. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s still complicated, right? I mean…he’s his best friend and I’ve never dealt with stuff like this before and-”

Sam’s smile dropped and he groaned again. “Imma head out. I can’t take this. Dumbass and dumberass. I swear to God.” You sniggered a bit as he grumbled, walking towards the ramp to climb off the boat, just as Bucky reappeared.

“Hey-”

“Nope! Not right now, Barnes! I can’t handle it! I can’t!”

Bucky gave you a weird look. “What’d you do?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Well, c’mon, doll. Sarah said she’s gonna make gumbo for us, whatever that is.” He held out his hand as you walked over. 

“You’re such a city boy.” You teased lightly, taking his hand and letting him help you pull you onto the dock. You shoved the sleeves of his jackets up again since they slipped from the first time. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

******************

“We have the couch and a mattress we can pull out, I just have to make Sam get it from the attic-”

“That’s alright. The couch is fine.” Bucky waved dismissively while you nodded in agreement.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at you two. “For both of you?”

You blinked, exchanging a look with Bucky, before shrugging and turning back to her. “Yeah.”

“Don’t fight it, Sarah.” Sam peeked out from the hall. “They’ve got a weird relationship.” You stuck your tongue out at the man while Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping your duffle bag by the couch. “How mature, Y/N.” Sam mimicked your action.

“Uhm…okay. Let me set up the couch for you then.”

Once everything was set up, you and Bucky thanking her for dinner - delicious and you’d never seen Bucky smile so much, the boys having kept him highly entertained throughout the meal - and for letting you crash, Sam and Sarah headed to their rooms, the boys already having been tucked in for the night.

“Are you gonna sleep on the floor?” You asked quietly, sitting down on the couch and doing the things for your night routine you didn’t already do in the bathroom.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He sat besides you. “I’ve been doing fine the past week or so.”

You smiled at him. “That’s good. Alright.” You stood up and stretched. “Let me just make sure everything’s in the bag and ready-”

You yelped when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest, shifting down to lay against the couch’s arm. “Do it in the morning.” He yawned, looking up at you tiredly. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep, Buck. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, his hold tightening as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“No. I fall asleep better with you.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, settling down with your legs between his, your chin resting on his sternum so you could still look at him. He beamed, but you could see the exhaustion settling in, and he grabbed the blanket Sarah left over the back of the couch and draped it across your back, over both of your legs, before his arms crossed snugly under the covers at the small of your back.

“Dinner was nice tonight. I haven’t had a meal cooked like that in ages.” You hummed.

He nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the first time I’ve sat around a table with a family since the 40′s.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah...kinda makes me wish I had my own.”

“Your own what?”

“Family.”

You bit your lip, shyly avoiding his gaze. “You’re my family, Buck.”

A light kiss was pressed to your forehead, his fingers bringing your gaze back to his. “There’s no one else I’d rather have.” The room lapsed into silence again, the clock ticking on the wall, the low sound of crickets outside.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You mumbled, tilting your head slightly as you studied them. They always held so much emotion in them, especially in contrast to when you first met him as Soldat. They matched the water you fell in, and you wouldn’t mind falling over and over into them.

“Yeah, well, you’re just really pretty inside and out, so I think you’ve got me beat, doll.” He whispered back.

“You know who else is pretty? Sarah.”

He nodded with a hum. “That’s true. But I meant what I said. You’ll always be my doll.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

He gave you a weird look as you traced his sharp jawline absentmindedly. “Nah, sweetheart. It’s just…some harmless flirting. Except on Sam’s part.”

You gave a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah…he’s gonna strangle you. It is nice to see you like that, though. Flirty. Relaxed. Happy.”

“You make me happy, sweetheart.” He hummed, nosing your temple. “The road trip helped. I’m learning everything from you. Maybe not the flirting, but the carefree part.”

You blinked at him, finger stopping for a moment as you thought. “Oh…”

You felt his fingers dance up your spine, making you shiver slightly. “What I would give to know what’s goin’ on inside that pretty lil’ head’a yours, doll.”

“I just think it’s funny you’re learning how to be carefree from me…when I just started learning how to do it myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, your finger continuing its path down his jaw. “I think it started with the goats.”

“The goats?”

You nodded again, resting your cheek on his chest, watching your finger move up from his chin. Once you got to the end of his jaw, you lightly scratched his scruff. “In Wakanda. Our goats.” You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the way he physically melted at your words, his eyes going soft, his lips turning up slightly.

“Our goats, huh?”

But your tired brain wasn’t really processing what he said, instead focusing on the features your finger was now tracing - over his lips, up his nose. “You’re pretty too, Buck. Did you know that? Inside and out.”

He craned his neck to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, cuddle bug.”

Nodding, you nuzzled into his chest, finger feeling over the bumps and indents on the dog tags resting near your head. You tried going to sleep, but you kept shifting, your mind not shutting off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, I’m trying to, you know, sleep.”

“Sorry.” You apologized meekly. “I just…I dunno. I can’t.”

“Are you comfortable?” He peeked open and eye to look at you questioningly. You nodded. “Is it too hot? We can take the blanket off. I know I’m a walking furnace-”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know why. I just can’t sleep.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, before cradling your head and guiding you back down to his chest. “Lay down, sweetheart. Relax.” He stroked your hair, moving his head down to rub circles in your back muscles, pressing down harder when he felt knots. 

You hummed, your eyes closing. “That feels good.”

“Shshsh. Just go to sleep.” His lips pressed against your head once more, lingering a bit longer than they usually do, as you felt yourself drift off. You cuddled his side, throwing a leg over his waist, before nodding off, only barely hearing his words. “Attagirl. There we are.”

******************

“Doll?” You felt a shift underneath you and groaned, your eyes barely cracking open. “Hey, sleepyhead…it’s okay. I’m just gonna slip out from under ya, alright? Gonna go help Sammy with somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him move you against the cushions as he sat up on the edge of the couch. “Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He bent over and kissed your cheek. You stretched out your limbs, about to rub your eyes, when he stopped you, kissing the inside of your wrists. “No. Not you, doll. Go back to sleep.” 

“Bu’...’m gonna help.” You slurred out, looking at him with confused, squinty eyes.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Rest. You can help when you wake up again. Okay?” You mumbled out an “okay”, bringing the covers up to your chin and snuggling deeper into the cushions. “There ya go, cuddle bug. Good girl.” There was another kiss, one to your temple this time, before you slipped back into unconsciousness.

******************

The next time you woke up was because of a clatter in the kitchen. You yawned and sat up, stretching, eyebrows furrowing when you realized Bucky wasn’t with you. It took you a moment to remember your conversation, which you half thought you dreamt.

“Boys!”

“Sorry!”

You chuckled at the shouts, rubbing your eyes. “I am so sorry!” Sarah apologized, looking over at you from the stove. Trying to make the boys breakfast before school. Do you want anything? Eggs? Cereal? Toast?”

“Uh, cereal’s fine.” You stretched out your back again, before throwing back the covers and standing up, a little shakily.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam went, would you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think him and Bucky went to fix something on the boat. I don’t for sure, though.”

Sarah groaned. “He probably went to fix the stupid water pump which doens’t need fixing. Dumbass.”

You chuckled, padding over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I just work with him. I can’t imagine growing up with him.”

“Trust me; some days you want to throw him in a box and send him out to sea. Bowls are in that cupboard.”

You snickered, moving over to grab a bowl from the cupboard she pointed to. “That’s how I feel with Bucky. Sam is less often, but when those two get together…it’s a full zoo.”

She laughed at that, nodding as she got out the milk and a few boxes of cereal for you to choose from, handing you a spoon. “That I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You started pouring your cereal, watching in slight amusement as she got the boys ready for school. “Bus is here! Get out the door! Bye! Love you! Make sure you take those extra lunches to-!”

“Yeah, mom! We know! Love you too!”

You gave a slight smirk as she huffed, looking around the kitchen at the pans and dishes left out. “Kids, huh?”

She gave you a smile. “Yeah. They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. How about you? Any thoughts of kids?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened, nearly choking on your food. “Oh God no. Not right now, at least. I don’t even have a solid house right now. My life’s too off the walls for that.”

“And Bucky?”

You raised an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter. “Bucky? What about Bucky?”

“Does he want kids?”

“Uh…I dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat as you remembered your talk last night. “Kinda makes me wish I had my own.” You quickly pushed his words aside. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Wait, wait. You two…aren’t together then?”

You blinked, your eyes widening again. “Together? Me and Bucky? No…why? Did Sam say something?”

Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, crossing her arms. “Sam didn’t say anything. You guys did. Are you seriously expecting me to believe you aren’t together?”

“We’re not! I mean - he was flirting with you yesterday-”

“Right, okay. Honey, that’s flirting. And it’s harmless. The way he follows you like a puppy and you look at him like he hung the stars? That’s feelings. And that’s a lot more impactful than flirting.”

You frowned in contemplation. It was really that obvious? You were really that blind? This whole time? You knew Sam knew - but you just figured that’s because he’s been there since it started. And Sharon knew for the same reason. But Sarah? The woman you just met the day prior and had barely had a conversation with?

“It’s, uh…” You chewed on your cheek, swirling your cereal around. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Do you like him?”

“I’m kinda in love with him-”

She shrugged, not letting you finish your bashful statement. “Then I don’t see what’s complicated about it.”

And that was that. She turned to clean up breakfast, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You thought it was more complicated than that. I mean…you were in love with your best friend. Who left you. With the guy you had feelings for who just so happened to be your best friend/crush’s best friend. And now you were completely in love with your best friend’s best friend, but your best friend still had a piece of your heart.

But…you loved Bucky. And he was here. And Steve was not. And when you put it that way…you guess it wasn’t so complicated after all.

******************

You snickered as you walked up behind Sarah, the woman berating the men for not leaving the water pump along like she asked.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Sam shot Bucky a warning look, who grinned, but you were surprised to see Sarah ignore him, sending you a knowing glance instead, before turning back to Sam. “I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.”

You chuckled, Bucky shooting you a wink. “Yeah, Samuel.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you, turning to Sarah. “In our defense, you were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

You nearly facepalmed at his “defensive” and you were trying so hard to hold back laughing as she told Sam off, sending them away.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” Sam pointed at you, but that only made your chortles come out, and you didn’t even bother hiding them. “She’s a very mean person.”

“It’s tough love.”

You giggled as they started arguing, slipping an arm around their waists, their arms instinctually coming up to your shoulders.

“Oh my God. A prowess?”

“Yes, Y/N. A prowess.”

“You know, maybe if you someone let me help-”

“Hey, woah! You were tired! I let you sleep! I was being nice!”

“Too late now. I’ll be lucky if Sarah lets me within a hundred feet of it!”

“She got you so good, Sammy!”

“I agree with Buck for once! You’re too snippy right now! And c’mon man! Stop flirting with my sister!”

“It’s my natural charm.”

“Charm? What charm?”

“Ouch, doll! That one hurt!”

****************

“Okay.” You stepped out of the bathroom, walking over to the couch and setting the bag down on it. “I’ve got everything packed. We’ve got a little over an hour until we need to head out which gives you two time to go set something up for Sammy and maybe even a bit or training before we leave.” 

Bucky frowned. “You’re not gonna come out?”

“I will in a bit. I just got a phone call I need to take.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Government call?”

You gave a mocking smile. “Can you guess what they want to talk about? It’s okay. I’ll survive. It’s only a phone call, so I can always hang up. Pretend I didn’t have good service. I do it all the time.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam chuckled. “In that case, I’m gonna go grab some stuff and get the shield.” As he walked out, he made sure to mouth at you behind Bucky’s back ‘conversation’ making you swallow thickly. You were planning on talking to Bucky anyways, and with Sam’s insistence…

“Okay, so, I was thinking when we get back-”

“Can I talk to you?”

Bucky stopped digging through the bag, blinking at you in surprise at your sudden burst. “Uh…well, we already are, so yes.” He chuckled, straightening and crossing his arms.

“I wanna have the conversation.”

He was left stunned, once again, his mouth opening and closing and his weight shifting form one foot to the other. “Like…that conversation? R-right now? Are you sure?”

You winced at her nervousness. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda…I just…I need to talk about it. Now.”

“Okay, okay. No, that’s fine. Don’t apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Bucky cleared his throat. “That’s all.”

“Okay…” You breathed with a small nod. You opened your mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“I hafta say this first; I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you about Steve. I-I dunno what I thought. That it’d give you closure or something. I dunno. But it hurt you and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Buck-”

“I was jealous. And guilty. And mad. And upset. I still am. Kinda. I guess. I dunno.” Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair and all you could do was gape at him as he started confessing to you. “Remember when we danced? In Madripoor? Doll…I don’t wanna dance ever again if it’s not with you. I fucking love you, Y/N. And not in the way we’ve said it before. I’m in love with you. I have been for-for a while now. I just - you were Steve’s. Steve loved you and you loved Steve and that was that and I was just the broken childhood best friend. But Steve left and he told me to take care of you and I didn’t know what to do with that, because you still love Steve. I think. I dunno. And I didn’t want to break what we have because you’re all I have left of him. You and that stupid shield. You’re my family. My home. I really meant it when I told you that. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it means too much for me to break what we have because I fell in love with my best friend’s girl. You know?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to understand, but your brain was still trying to process what he was telling you.

“Oh God…” He groaned. “And now I just told you everything and you’re looking at me like that wasn’t what you wanted to hear and now I’m thinking this wasn’t the conversation you were thinking it was going to be-”

You were moving across the room before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the teal Henley you knew was comfortable having worn it to bed before when you visited him in New York, and slanting your lips over his.

His breathing hitched and he froze, and for a hot second you thought you made everything worse, but then he was kissing you back and his hands were on your hips and he was pulling you closer and it felt so fucking good you didn’t want to pull back for air.

“Shut up.” You muttered when you finally did pull back, your forehead against his, your eyes clenched shut. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” You pulled back to look up at him, chests heaving against each other, your eyes prickling. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at opening up. I only ever was good at it with Steve but Bucky…I’ve been doing it with you. This whole time and I didn’t even realize it until the conversation in the car.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the relieved tears that were falling from the weight you were finally getting off your chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. How could I not be? After all that time in Wakanda? I was never Steve’s girl, Bucky. I wanted to be. Dammit, did I wanna be, but I wasn’t. Not really. And he’s gone. But you’re not. And I don’t know why it took me so long to see that. That you’re the one in front of me. You’re the one who held me when I needed it once he left. You’re the one that would listen to my rambles that I’m just realizing was most of our phone calls. You’re not just the broken childhood friend. Don’t ever think that. I don’t pick up the phone at five in the morning after searching for a friend until two for just anyone. Even Steve’s best friend. And I’m such an idiot because I’ve been pushing away my feelings all these years for Steve and then I let them out with you at the wrong time, because I love Steve, Bucky, but I’m not in love with him. Not since I fell in love with you. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but Steve was the first one I cared about and that’s just how I feel and I can try to explain, but-”

His lips crashed onto yours again and you could taste the salty tears that were pouring down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. He was holding you and he was kissing you and it was even more perfect than you thought it’d be.

“You’re adorable when you ramble, but Jesus Christ, shuddup, doll.” He breathed. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me you love me just a fraction of how much I love you.”

You looked up into those ocean eyes, your own shining with earnest affection. “James Buchanan Barnes. I love you.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He murmured against your lips, holding your head against his, still wiping away your tears. It felt like with each one that fell, you felt lighter and lighter. Like they were taking away every fear and anxiety you held within you for the past six months.

“Alright! I was thinking we could just set up in these trees out here - holy shit! Is it done? Did you do it? Did I miss it? Has the conversation been had?”

Bucky chuckled as you giggled. “He has the worst timing.” The last two words were loud enough so Sam could hear, although the man heard the whole sentence. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes!” Sam cheered. “Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! I was that close to locking you two in the attic.”

You shook your head at Sam’s personal celebration, drowning the rest of his words out as you looked at Bucky, who swept his thumb over your cheek catching one last tear, before pecking your lips.

“I finally get to kiss where I really want to.” He spoke softly, kissing your lips again. “Are you mine, doll?”

“I thought you said I’d always be your doll.” You answered cheekily. He grinned, kissing you again, pulling you against him by the hips.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! We get it! You’re in love, finally, but I don’t wanna see it anymore! Now will you come help me with this shit?”

Bucky left one more lingering kiss on your lips, before you pushed him away reluctantly. “I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, moving over to help Sam carry the things he’d gathered.

You watched them put it all up from the window, gnawing on your cheek as you spun your phone in your hands. Coming to a decision, you tossed your phone in the duffle bag and walked out with it just as the boys finished.

“That was a quick phone call.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Didn’t call them. If they really need me, they’ll find me.”

Bucky grinned as you set the bag down under a tree, pecking your lips when you got close enough for him to grab by the waist to hold you against him. You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully away and giggling as Sam let out a groan.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sammy.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Bucky knew he needed the tough love talk Sam was giving him. He needed to hear it. Because, deep down, he had known it all along, he just refused to believe it. He tried doing it. Making amends. He knew he wasn’t though. And of course he knew immediately who that one person would be.

“And hey.” Bucky looked at him. “Let me tell you what. Telling my girl all that you told her? That’s a good start. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You’re already happier. I can see it in your eyes.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he thought of the gorgeous woman he nearly let slip through his fingers. He looked over to the house, where she was inside somewhere getting ready after suddenly deciding she needed to shower before they left. “I was stupid.”

“Yeah you were. You both were. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Sam nudged him. “Treat her right, Buck. She deserves it.”

“I know…I just hope I can.”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You were just starting to use that cyborg brain of yours! She chose you. And before you say anything,” Sam cut Bucky off from speaking as he opened his mouth to object. “She chose you before Steve left. It just took her dumbass this long to realize it.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay…” Before he could say anything, the goddess herself stepped out, jogging over, looking absolutely amazing in her jeans and his t-shirt. “Good talk.”

Sam laughed at his quick ending of the conversation as she came up besides them. “Talking about me?” She asked cheekily, eyes shining. Bucky couldn’t help but take her under his arm, pecking her lips. Now that he could, he didn’t think he could stop. He was addicted to say the least.

Throwing Bucky a wink, Sam shrugged. “Just all the things that get on our nerves.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “We better get going.”

Bucky and Sam clapped hands. “You know Karli won’t quit.”

Bucky smiled. “Ah. You call us when you have a lead and we’ll be there.”

Y/N stepped forwards to give Sam a hug. “Anytime, Sammy.”

“Eh. Anytime between noon and midnight.” Bucky corrected. “Or noon and ten. Noon and five…you better just call at noon to be safe.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.”

“Not necessarily as a team.” Bucky continued, grabbing the bag, getting Y/N back in her spot at his side under his arm.

“Nope!”

“We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

Sam snapped, pointing at him. “Coworkers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a couple mutual friends.”

“Ones now gone and you’re dating the other.”

“So we’re a couple of guys…with a badass to help out.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Y/N let out that laugh Bucky could never get enough of, shaking her head at the two of them. “You forgot dumbasses.”

Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh. That’s your couple name.”

“Dumbasses?”

“Oh yeah.” The three of them came to a stop, Bucky and his girl - God he loved confirming it now - facing Sam. “Thanks for the help, guys. Meant a lot.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Of course.”

Y/N shot him a wink. “Until we meet again, Sammy.”

“Until then, cher.”

Bucky couldn’t stop his grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the two of them starting to walk to the main road where she already ordered an Uber. He looked down at her, kissing her lips for the nth time in the past hour.

“I wish I didn’t wait so long,” he told her seriously. “But I’d wait a thousands more centuries if it meant I get to call you mine.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a sap! But…” she moved up to kiss him and his heart stuttered. He knew he had a goofy grin on when she pulled back, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she laughed again. “I have to agree with you on that, Buckaroo.”

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Paper Rings

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Summary: On his first ride to Hogwarts, James befriended the girl who was obsessed with shiny things. Over their schooling together, their friendship turned into so much more.

A/N: lmao I suck at summaries. Also I’m back sorry for the random hiatus (and sorry that posting will almost definitely not be consistent after this either). I had this idea months ago, inspired by Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings, and I only just got around to writing it asdfghjkl. Still obsessed with James though rip me I just want someone to love me like this.

Warnings: Mentions of eating (briefly), otherwise just a lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 4k (wow)

...

Little James Potter waved goodbye to his parents as the train took off from the platform, nervous about his first journey to the infamous Hogwarts, but excited to discover all the great things his parents had told him for himself. First though: finding a carriage.

Trying not to show his nerves, he wandered along the corridor, peeping into the carriages to see if there was one he could join. For the most part, he found them all too full, too loud to juggle his nerves, or the students too old and intimidating. The days would come where James would rule the corridors of the castle, but the eleven year old boy on the train was just hoping to make a friend he could share this new adventure with.

As fate would have it, he found just that and so much more. In a carriage to herself sat a young girl, his age, her face turned away from him looking out the window. The only thing he could see was a petite sparkling bow, sitting neatly in her (y/h/c) hair.

Without thinking about it, he knocked gently on the compartment door, sliding it open as she turned to look at him inquisitively. Her (y/e/c) eye’s glittered as her lips pulled into a smile, creating a complete sense of comfort for James to ask. “Do you mind if I sit?” She nodded eagerly, gathering up a few books she had dumped on the opposite seat and dropping them into her lap. “I’m James.” He smiled.

“(y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a short while, listening to the laughs of older students, friends reuniting after a summer apart, and watching the landscape whip by them out the window.

“I like your bow, by the way.” James spoke up, feeling glad he did when an excited smile broke across her face, looking as if he’d told her she’d won the lottery.

“Thank you! I love the way it sparkles.” She said, gently pulling it from her hair and twisting it in the sunlight, showing how rainbows danced in the glitter and were thrown across their compartment. Satisfied, she used it to clip back the hair that was now falling into her face, and their conversation moved on, following each and every thought they were having, becoming fast friends. James didn’t think the journey could get any better until two boys showed up at their door and asked if they could join them, setting everlasting friendships in stone.

As the train pulled up to Hogwarts, any nervousness James had been feeling was gone. Instead, the only thought he had was that he couldn’t be more glad he sat in the compartment of the girl with the sparkling bow.

…

Their first year passed in a blur, and the Marauders spent the majority of it in each other’s company, laughing their days away.

Now, summer had come and gone, and their second year at Hogwarts was in full swing. They walked into their charms class together, laughing about a joke Sirius had made at James’ expense. (y/n) sat next to the curly-haired boy at their desk, as Remus Sirius and Peter sat at the one adjacent to them.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I didn’t make the team last year! No first year has made a house team in like 80 years! I’m telling you though, I’ll make it on this year, and I’ll be the best chaser this school has ever seen.” James protested, huffing as he put his textbook in the middle of the table for him and (y/n) to share. She laughed at him softly, hand patting his shoulder as the other boys got lost in their own conversation.

“I know you will, Jamie. And I’ll be there cheering you on every step of the way.” His cheeks redenned at her words, but luckily their attention was turned away by Professor Flitwick.

“Now students, the charm I’ll be teaching you today is more of a fun one to start off the year than anything you’ll likely need in your everyday lives. As always, I don’t expect you to create chaos by using these charms” – he turned his gaze to a particular group of students at this point who were all busily looking elsewhere – “but simply to enlighten yourselves and to show you what magic can do. So, the charm we’ll be learning today is how to make things glitter.”

James heard an almost inaudible gasp next to him, and he could feel the excitement radiating off (y/n). He chuckled, expecting nothing less; he’d known her for a year now, and if it wasn’t the bow in her hair there was always something shiny on her at any given time.

Flitwick talked about the details of the charm, how it could be applied subtly, only giving a faint sheen, or how it could be made much more obvious. Finally, he gave them the charm and told everyone to repeat after him. “Now, like I said, just because this is a fun charm doesn’t mean it’s an easy one, and I don’t expect you to get it on your first attempt. Just keep repeating the charm and-oh!” He broke off suddenly, just as James’ vision went hazy. Once he’d focused, he saw he was surrounded by a cloud of individual glitter specs floating around them, almost as if they were in their own galaxy. His gaze shifted to its centre, shining most brilliantly of all as her proud and excited smile dazzled him, making him forget entirely they were still in their charms classroom.

“Well done Miss (y/n)!” Flitwick’s voice broke through their bubble, and slowly each star seemed to fade out of existence, until they were back in their regular old classroom, thirty pairs of eyes trained on them. “You certainly felt the spirit of the charm and went above and beyond. 10 points to (y/h). Now, if you could help Mr Potter whilst we all get back to it!”

Chatter burst out the classroom almost immediately, partners working together trying to enchant an object of theirs to take on the glittery effect. Sirius turned to her, rolling his eyes half-heartedly.

“Becoming a teachers pet now are we, (y/l/n)?” She rolled her eyes back, waving her wand to produce a cloud of glitter that settled in Sirius’ hair, contrasting sharply against its darkness.

“It’s sparklesSirius, what did you expect? Now c’mon, this is the one lesson I won’t let you not do the work in. Make some glittery greatness and I’ll bake you all some cookies when I next steal James’ cloak to go to the kitchens.” With those words, the three boys turned their entire focus to the task at hand, while James still seemed slightly awestruck next to her. “You alright, J?”

“That was amazing (y/n/n). I had no idea you could do that.”

“Well I guess you can’t know until you try.” She shrugged, picking up her quill and placing it in front of him. “Charm my quill.”

“Why me? You could just do it yourself.” James asked, confused why she didn’t do it herself since she was clearly more than capable. Once again, she shrugged, looking into his eyes as she uttered the words so nonchalantly that would stick with him for years to come.

“Well, Flitwick said you needed to practise. Plus, it’ll mean more to me if every time I look at my quill I know that you’re the reason it’s shining.”

Within a heartbeat, James had uttered the incantation and a subtle shimmer had settled over the feather, imperceptible until it was moved and caught the light. The smile he saw when he looked over at (y/n) made him vow to himself that as long as he was around, she would never have an ordinary quill again.

True to his word, every time she brought out a new quill, he was quick to snatch it from her and place the simple charm on it. It became an unspoken promise between the two of them, and every time James saw that sparkle from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

. . .

True to her word, (y/n) was there for all of James’ games, cheering him on from the side of the pitch, always the first to reach him when the game was over. High or low, win or lose, she was always there to remind him that he had played amazingly, and that she was proud of him.

After one such game in their fourth year, Gryffindor narrowly losing to Slytherin, she was at his side so quickly that he would have thought she had apparated if he knew this wasn’t possible. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, feeling the slight shaking of his shoulders. “Oh, James.” She quickly ushered him off the pitch before he attracted eyes, assuring him that Sirius and Remus would collect his things from the changing room and bring them back to his dorm. Once they reached his dorm, she sent him to shower, promising that she would be there for him once he was back.

Sure enough, he came out of the shower in fresh clothes and damp hair, and she was still on his bed, patiently waiting for him. She held her hand out to him, a silent invitation, and as soon as he took it she pulled him to her side and once again enveloped him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Jamie.” She whispered, squeezing him momentarily before drawing back and looking into his glassy eyes.

“Shouldn’t be.” He murmured, avoiding her gaze. “We lost.”

“And yet you scored more goals than anyone else the entire game.” She pointed out, sincerity lacing her voice. “It’s just because the snitch is worth a stupid amount of points, honestly the game has a lot of flaws.” James smiled weakly, they often had these debates about Quidditch and it always ended in some silly way.

“I did hit Malfoy in the head with a Quaffle.” He admitted, and (y/n) could see the weight falling off his shoulders.

“The highlight of all our years.” She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little box. “I got you something.” She handed it to him, and he pushed it back to her, head shaking, doubt returned.

“No I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Keep it.”

“We already had this argument and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She shoved the box into his hands and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to open it.

Reluctantly, he pulled the lid off the box to reveal a snitch, the snitch he normally kept on his person at all times, now shining with a slight iridescence. James looked up at her, thankful but a little confused at the present.

“I’ve actually been saving it for when you lose a game. Which has been hard because that’s hardly ever.” She broke off to give him a playful glare along with her words, quickly broken by her soft smile. “I know you play with the snitch when you have a lot on your mind, and when you start to doubt yourself. I wanted to remind you that you’re incredible and you should believe that yourself. So, when you see the snitch and you see it sparkle, you’ll think of me, and you’ll remember how great you are.” He was speechless, and in the silent air, she did what the two of them did best, and started to nervously babble. “Well, that’s assuming you think of me when you see sparkles, and quite frankly after all this time I’d be slightly offended if you didn’t-oof” her rambling stopped when James tackled her into a hug, knocking them both back onto the bed.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, but she could hear the emotion behind each word, everything he was trying to communicate. All she did was hold him tighter.

It was then that Sirius and Remus walked into the dorm, carrying all of James’ equipment from the game, causing James and (y/n) to jump away from each other. Blushes arose on both their faces, not that the other would have noticed, each too busy looking at opposite walls of the dorm. Sirius and Remus exchanged a knowing look, but decided to let it slide, knowing there was an inevitability to it anyway.

…

Once again, (y/n) was boarding the Hogwarts express for another year of school. She knew this year would be a stressful one, with their OWL exams coming up, but she also knew that as long as she had her boys by her side, she would be absolutely fine.

Speaking of her friends, she was currently walking along the train trying to find them. She knew that Lily and Remus were prefects now so they’d be at the front of the train, but she was struggling to find anyone else. Eventually, she found James, sitting in a carriage by himself, absentmindedly watching the view. She chuckled to herself at the situation, the reverse of their meeting all those years ago.

She slid the door open, catching his attention and his ever-so-addictive smile. “Got room for an old pal?” She asked, sitting next to him when he patted the seat, his hand enveloping hers as soon as she had, a silent communication. I missed you.

“I was starting to think you’d gotten cool and forgotten about me.” He joked, nudging her playfully.

“Piss off Potter, I was always cooler than you.” She teased back, glad to see that nothing had changed despite their time apart. It never did, they were always James and (y/n), inseparable no matter how hard anyone tried. “Where is everyone?”

“Lils and Moony are doing prefect duties, and Sirius enlisted Peter’s help to try and sneak into their carriage and get the insider information.” He rolled his eyes light-heartedly, forming air quotes around Sirius’ words as (y/n) laughed, eyes closing in amusement. “What’s that on your eyes?” James suddenly asked, stopping her laughter short as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Oh!” She remembered. “I went to see Lils in the holidays and she was showing me this glitter eyeliner that muggles wear! Why, do you not like it?” She suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering if it really was too much despite Lily’s reassurances. It was a subtle white, but still, it was glitter on her face.

“The opposite!” James was quick to answer, rushing so much to not hurt her feelings that he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. “I think you look really beautiful (y/n/n), with or without the makeup. Besides, the glitter brings out your eyes.”

At this point, they were both blushing furiously, and James was still holding her hand, neither of them willing to let go. (y/n) couldn’t help but smile to herself, and remembered to thank Lily for the recommendation the second they were in the dorm together that evening.

…

James climbed the last step into the astronomy tower, seeing (y/n) leaning against the railing already, gazing into the night sky, a blanket and an array of snacks out on the floor behind her.

It was a ritual they’d started who knows when, a chance to wind down and escape the chaos of everyday life, to enjoy each other’s company and to feast away on whatever snacks they had managed to stow away for these evenings. Tonight’s selection looked to consist mostly of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, with the occasional sugar quill hidden amongst the rest. “Heavy on the sugar tonight, I see.” He broke the silence teasingly, settling himself so that he was sat at (y/n)’s feet, still able to see the clear night sky above them.

“If I don’t consume my own bodyweight in sugar I think I’ll pass out I’m that exhausted.” She commented back, sinking down next to him. Automatically, his arm wound around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on top of her head. There weren’t words to describe the feeling of pure content as she melted into him, completely at ease.

She reached out and grabbed a chocolate frog, unwrapping it and handing the card to James with a sigh upon seeing it was one already in her collection. She bit into the chocolate, her gaze on the night sky as his was unable to break away from her, the way she settled so peacefully against him.

“The stars sparkle too, you know.” She broke the silence, voice quiet but still holding its signature melodic tone. James finally broke away from looking at her, joining her eyeline and looking at the constellations above them. Even though he wasn’t taking astronomy as a NEWT, spending so much time in the tower with (y/n) as she mapped the sky meant he knew precisely what he was looking at, and traced the constellations with his eyes.

“You know, six years of friendship and I don’t think I ever asked you why you like shiny things so much. I always just accepted it as a part of who you are.” A smile graced her face as she unconsciously twiddled her fingers.

“Don’t laugh.” She warned, and he solemnly shook his head. “I think there’s something so entrancing, so beautiful about them. I think it serves as a reminder that even the most seemingly dull thing,” she picked up another chocolate frog box at this point, waving her wand to create a light sparkle over it, “is wonderfully brilliant if you just remember to look at it in the right way. It’s a lesson we should all carry with us, and I try to remember it whenever I can. Everything is beautiful if you give it a chance.” The sparkles on the box faded in the moonlight, as (y/n) finally looked up at James, only to find him already staring back at her.

Body thinking quicker than brain, seeing her (y/e/c) eyes glimmering up at him, James leant down and pressed his lips to hers. She stifled a gasp, quickly moving her lips back against his as her hand wound gently around the back of his neck. He poured all of his admiration into the kiss, everything he had been feeling for her since he didn’t even know when, feeling his heart soar to be here with her in that moment.

Eventually, they broke away for air, and a breathy laugh fell from (y/n)’s lips, blush rising on her cheeks as she turned her face away. James reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers and gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ve been drawn to you since the day I saw you in that train carriage. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, your soul. I didn’t even realise the outside matched until we came back from that summer you spent with Lily. But god, every day since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, (y/n/n). I really like you.”

Around them, a shimmering cloud exploded simultaneous to a wide grin spreading across (y/n)’s face. It was their own galaxy, just like all that time ago in the charms lesson, but she was still in the centre, still giddy with excitement. “I like you too, Jamie.” Her smile turned a little sheepish. “And sorry, I think my emotions got a little out of control.” The star-like sparkles slowly dissipated around them until there was nothing left, and this time it was (y/n) who leaned up to James, connecting their lips one more time.

“You taste like chocolate.”

“I’m sure that must be awful for you, Potter”. Nothing had changed, and yet nothing would be the same either.

…

James was sat on the floor of his dorm, textbooks open in front of him, although this late in the day he was struggling to pay any attention to them. What he was focused on instead was his girlfriend, tucked into the alcove of the windowsill, absentmindedly writing away on a piece of parchment.

Her (y/h/c) hair was in plaits down her back, and in the candlelight the silver threads that James had helped her braid in this morning were casting light across the room that shifted with every little shake of her head or shrug of her shoulders.

“You’re staring again, Jamie.” She chastised, although the humour was clear in her voice. He pushed himself up from the floor with an exaggerated groan, making his way over to her and pulling her gently into his chest, pressing a soft kiss into her hair.

“Can’t help it love, you’re an actual angel.” He didn’t see it but he knew she’d be rolling her eyes as she buried her face in his chest to hide the blush that was forming on her cheeks.

“Stop being so cheesy.”

“As if you don’t love it.” She pressed a kiss into his chest, resting her head against him as she went back to her writing. He tried not to pry, but he couldn’t help but catch notice of his name and his interest piqued. “Who are you writing to?”

“Euphemia.” She replied nonchalantly, not pausing her actions as he took a step away, face scrunched in confusion.

“My mother?” she paused at this, looking up at him with false exasperation.

“Do you know many other Euphemias?” She deadpanned. He shrugged, admitting her fair point, moving back to her side where she immediately snuggled back into his warmth.

“How long have you been writing to my mum?” She paused for a second, contemplating.

“Since the start of term I think. She sent an owl, I responded, we haven’t really stopped talking since. Oh, I’m coming over for Christmas by the way, she invited me. Said it wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family there” (y/n) looked up at him, flashing a mischievous grin, expecting him to whine childishly like he normally would, complaining that he was supposed to ask her. Instead, looking more solemn than she’d seen him in a long time, he crushed her against him, holding her so tightly before he leant down and connected their lips. The kiss was bruising, but it was packed with adoration, and it left (y/n) slightly breathless. He broke away, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to catch her breath back. “What was that for?”

“I love you. So much. You’re absolutely perfect, and I swear, I can’t wait until the day I can put a ring on that finger and make it official, make you a Potter for real. I promise, it’s going to be the most sparkling, dazzling gem you’ve ever seen. It’ll shine just as brightly as you, and it’ll always remind you that you’re beautiful, in every way, and just how much I love you.” Her hand had come to rest on his cheek, smiling throughout his little speech, parchment cast aside and forgotten about at this point.

“Don’t be silly, James.” She laughed, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love shiny things, yes, but I don’t need one to be reminded of how amazing you are, or how much I love you. Hell, you could ask me to marry you with a paper ring and I’d still say yes in a heartbeat. I’m saying yes to you, to a life. You don’t need to win me over with some ridiculously expensive piece of jewellery.” He nodded slightly, pecking her lips before moving back to where he had been sat on the floor.

(y/n) picked her parchment back up, continuing on to the letter she had been writing to Euphemia Potter, unable to help themselves from planning the Christmas festivities despite it being early November.

Deep in concentration, she startled slightly as she noticed movement coming from the corner of her eye. She looked to the side to see her boyfriend once again, although this time he was knelt before her, holding up a piece of parchment that he had hastily fashioned into a ring, coupled with a sheepish smile.

Laughing merrily, she hopped down from the windowsill, pulling him up by his jumper and kissing him passionately as she slid the piece of paper onto her finger, looking forward to the day when they were older, when they could promise this for real, knowing that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them to love each other unconditionally.

When James first stepped on that Hogwarts train, he was hoping to find a friend he could share every moment with for the next seven years. He had found that in her, a best friend, now a lover, for seven years but for so much longer. The girl with the sparkling bow turned out to be his soulmate, and he sent a prayer of thanks to the stars every day.

[cowboydeanwinchester]

hi bestie, could you rec some of your favorite fics? (au or canonverse) <33

well i had another ask for AUs and i had it done and i was gonna post canonverse here and then AUs there and post both at the same time but it! got! deleted! hate myself. so i’ll do both here. sorry other anon

canonverse:

You and Your Husband - dean and cas get mistaken as a couple a lot

Tall Grass - cas is a plant dad and dean is jealous of cas’ friend

Welcome to Pine Shores! - been a while since i read this but future fic where dean and cas run a motel and “platonically” share a room

Tunnel of Love - case fic, dean and cas have to kiss to get a look at a ghost 😏

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest - heaven fic where established deancas and the family have dinner with john

profoundly bonded (by law) - i mean i feel like everyone recs sobsicles, so i would say just go to their ao3 and read all their stuff, but this one stands out to me when i think of them because... cas asked dean to marry him and dean’s like... sure why not and the whole time he’s like “not gay tho, married to man but i’m not gay” very funny love it

Crazy Diamonds - SUCH a must-read. 2018 Dean and 2008 Dean trade places in the timeline SO good

On Labor - just read this one, dean “pretends” to date cas to make sure he stays with him

First Date - takes place during Last Holiday

There’s Only One Sure Thing That I Know - dean and cas get trapped in ohio, go domestic :)

Sand and Salt - S9 rewrite and with charlie!!

The Least Bad Option - fake dating case fic but it’s SAM and cas. dean of course is jealous

Reality in Dreamscapes - djinn fic / cas wakes up married to dean

AUs:

Everyone’s a Critic - all time fave / chef dean and food critic cas

And This, Your Living Kiss - poet dean (gets recommended a lot but for a good reason)

To Build a Home - just READ it! i cannot BEGIN to go into this fic i love it so much

An Exercise in ‘Worthless’ - tattoo au!

Forget-Me-Not-Blues - cas and dean are the best men for sam and jess’ wedding but they secretly already know each other .. and hate each other

Inevitable Homoeroticism in Spanish Romantic Heroes - college au / professer cas and ma student dean

Sleepless in Lawrence, Kansas - sleepless in seattle au (i’ve never watched that but i enjoyed this a lot)

n e way. i’m very bad a reccing fics cause i don’t keep track of them very well lol so these are the ones i either remembered or had in my tabs still that i know i really liked

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I Would Do Anything You Asked Me To

This was supposed to be finished for the #vicficwriterchallenge earlier this month but life got in the way. I liked the prompt and lil fic so I figured I’d post it anyway. This is my first fic in the fandom too x

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer thinks he can hear Y/N moaning his name through the walls. But he has to be imagining things.

Category: Sort of smut, sort of fluff, and a lil teensy bit angsty 

Warnings/Includes: smut, sexual language, voyerism, masturbation (both male and female), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed

Word count: 2000 words

Masterlist

There’s been tension for a while.

It’s been building steadily and slowly over the past few years. Spencer’s pretty sure it’s all been coming from his end though. Why would Y/N even give him a passing thought in a romantic context, she’d been his best friend from the jump, taken to him the second she’d joined the team. They had the same embarrassing sense of humor, the opposite taste in movies, and nothing but love for each other. But it was strictly platonic. So platonic that they’d bunk together in hotel rooms for most cases, staying up reading in side by side twin beds, or talking nonsense a little too late into the night given they always seemed to have such a long day ahead.

But lately things felt different.

One evening in Kansas Spencer thinks he can hear a faint moaning coming from the bathroom while he’s skimming through a hardback. The walls in this place are bordering on paper thin but he thinks that it sounds like moaning, muffled just a little by the hum of the shower running. When Y/N comes out, steam billowing behind her as she gently dries her hair with a towel, he thinks she looks flushed. He thinks it must just be from the hot air and doesn’t linger on the thought for long.

That is until the following week in Louisiana. The walls are a little thicker but the shower’s definitely not running this time. It’s been shut off for a few minutes when he hears the same breathy moans. And it’s unmistakable when he hears his own name tumbling from her lips, the way she always says it, just, different. When she emerges this time he’s staring her down, without really meaning to.

“Did you call me?” he asks, puzzled. She shakes her head, pulling a confused expression, but the tips of her ears start to glow pink, matching the strap of her bra that he can see falling down her shoulder. God he wishes he hadn’t noticed that.

The next time it happens is markedly different.

It’s in Texas, and Spencer gets to the room late. Not by a lot, but longer than he’d like. One of the officers at the station had some follow up questions that kept him lagging behind the rest of the team. All he wanted in the world was to collapse straight into bed and try and string together at least a few hours of sleep. It’s late so he opens the heavy fire door as gently as he can, pushing it closed behind him softly. He doesn’t want to wake Y/N but it becomes increasingly apparent that there’s no fear of that.

He thinks he can hear her voice, calling out for him, but when he rounds the corner that’s not the case. Y/N is splayed across her bed, legs spread with her hand buried between them. Sweet but filthy moans are falling from her softly parted lips, her eyes screwed shut with intensity as her fingers worked inside of her.

“Fuck” Spencer whispers, it’s quiet and involuntary but he drops his bag on the ground without thinking about it and it lands with a thud. He ducks back around the corner before her eyes open but she stops immediately.

“Spence?” she calls out into what looks like an empty room, “Spence wait!”

“I’m just—” he swallows hard, “I’m gonna shower before I hit the hay” he’s aiming for nonchalance but it comes out somewhere between childish and awkward. If she responds he doesn’t hear, he’s locked the bathroom door behind him in a hurry, slumping against it.

Spencer wants to forget about it, or maybe he doesn’t. He’s carding through the memories as he lets the water trickle over him. Hearing his name echoing around his head just the way she’d moaned it twice now. His hand was braced against the cold tile while he stroked along his hard length, the images of Y/N spread completely across the bed not 2 feet from him with her fingers deep inside herself. Her head falling back against the pillows in ecstasy. He can’t help but think about what she’d been imagining herself.

It doesn’t happen for a while after that.

They hardly speak really, and thankfully for Spencer there’s no need to double up on rooms for a little while. Now he’s just got to get a hold of himself while he’s around her on cases, or in the office. Which wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t sit at the desk opposite him, or the seat next to him on flights. Or if her hair wasn’t so beautiful in the way it cascaded over her shoulders, or worse still, when she gathered it all to one side, exposing the planes of her neck to him while she worked.

Spencer was managing to keep his urges, and his feelings, mostly at bay. But really who was he kidding, they were bubbling just below the surface and they had been for far longer than this had been going on.

In Florida 3 weeks later they’re stuck sharing a room again. Hotch didn’t really give either of them an option this time anyway, why would he presume anything had changed between the two of them. And really it hadn’t, it had just become, awkward?

This became painstakingly clear as they walked into the room together.

“I’ll take this one?” Spencer half-asked as he dropped his go-bag by the edge of the bed nearest the window.

“I’m easy” Y/N responded, walking to the other and sitting on the edge of it, hands resting in her lap. “Spence?” she ventured, it tumbled out of her like a whisper, he almost missed it, so he pretended he did.

“Mind if I grab the first shower?” he asked, without waiting to hear for an answer he made his way into the bathroom. He washed the day off his skin, scrubbing against it harshly with the sad hotel soap out of frustration more than anything else. Y/N had been his best friend for so long, and these complicated feelings didn’t negate that. This friendship was invaluable to him but he’d be kidding himself if he promised he could shake these feelings for good. Everyone he’d ever dated, or thought about dating, no matter how flawless, just wasn’t her. They didn’t have her laugh, her smile, her kindness, the fire inside that she possessed was missing in everyone but her.

Every time she’d even made an allusion to a date with someone his stomach would sink. He wasn’t proud of that but it was true. His heart would ache at the thought of some other man getting to be with her, in any way at all. Of course Spencer and Y/N would go out for dinner, or a movie, or whatever on their days off, but once he was in the privacy of his own room later that evening he’d imagine where they could’ve ended up.

In his bed together, holding each other close. Maybe he’d place soft, sweet kisses all over her cheeks, peppering her neck and jaw with them first thing in the morning. Other times he’d think about how he’d grab her and pull her by her hips, letting his fingernails dig into them as he fucked her from behind, shaking the more precarious items off his desk.

This time however he was thinking about her in that damn hotel room again. Getting herself off and whimpering his name, like maybe she hoped that it wasn’t her fingers but him buried inside her.

When he finally left the bathroom he’d almost hoped she’d be asleep. And prayed that she wouldn’t care enough to ask him whatever question he’d dodged before heading in there. But Spencer had never been a lucky guy.

“Spence?” she called out again, soft and timid. Y/N was in a nightdress, it was small and satin and baby pink, and his shoulders tensed at the sight. He was distracted enough to forget that she was perched, legs crossed, in the centre of his bed.

“Y/N, I’m by the window” he had to force the words out of his ever so slowly closing throat.

“Spence!” she called yet again, harsher this time, trying to get his full attention.

“What!?” it came out a little louder, a little meaner than he meant it to. It was just misplaced frustration. Frustration with himself, with the whole situation, but never at her.

“Sorry Y/N” he breathed, letting his eyes drift closed in a effort to calm his nerves.

“It’s alright” she soothes, bringing herself up to her knees so she can move closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to Spencer. She’s still shorter than him even perched up like this, and he's trying desperately to ignore the way he can just about see down her nightdress with the way she’s kneeling.

“Spencer.” she states his name calmly, “If I had—” she cuts herself off, taking in an unsteady breath. It doesn’t look like it helps all that much. She reaches out to him but pulls back before she can really make any physical contact. Torn.

“Fuck it” she huffs and looks up to make direct eye contact with him now, unwavering, and he’s got no idea where her bravery’s come from all of a sudden, and really neither does she. “That night in Houston” she breaks for just a second, “If I’d asked you to stay, would you?” her eyes remain fixed on his, waiting for a reply that’s stuck deep in his throat.

“Y/N, I—” he shakes his head, “What are you asking?”

Her head falls to the side in a universal gesture for ‘are you kidding me?’

“You know what I’m asking Spencer, I was calling for you, trying” her eyes screw shut as she pinches the bridge of her nose “would you have stayed?” she looks up at him now, her eyes full of uncertainty and what he thinks could be sadness.

Spencer’d been a coward. He knew that already. He’d been a coward from the second he’d noticed these feelings for Y/N, scared that they’d damage their bond, or that she wouldn’t reciprocate. Because really he had no reason to believe anyone would return those sorts of feeling for him, least of all the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He could scarcely let himself imagine scenarios where she liked him, like that. But here she was, in the flesh, in a fucking satin nightgown offering herself to him. And apparently not for the first time.

Spencer knew he’d been silent for too long, and honestly he didn’t have a verbal answer he could give that wouldn’t be an entire fucking poem. So instead he grabbed her, a strong hand pulling her face to his to engulf her lips in a kiss. Rougher than he probably mean it, his teeth almost clashing with her own as their mouths opened for one another, tongues delving in deeper exploring and working against the other. He could feel the tiny moans she let out vibrating against his lips only encouraging him to prolong the kiss for as long as he could, breathing deeply thorough his nose in the hopes that maybe he’d never have to remove his lips from hers ever again. But Y/N knew better, pulling away gently to look straight into Spencer’s glimmering eyes.

“Would you?” she asks once again, her pout is flushed and almost swollen and he catalogues that image so that he can remember it forever.

“I would do anything you asked me to” It escapes him without thought, and it’s true. And it’s the best he can do right now without pouring out his entire heart and soul in this stupid hotel room.

Masterlist

[tobesoalive]

Sam Kiszka NSFW Alphabet

hello everyone welcome back! sorry I've been behind on posting, I've been struggling to find inspiration and motivation between school and work but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things! Thank you all for your patience and enjoy these steamy headcanons :)

WARNINGS: Smut (basically everything lol)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After sex Sam will collapse next to you and proceed to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he sighs in satisfaction. This is usually accompanied by kisses on your neck and his voice praising you for doing such a good job for him. After a few minutes he will get up to bring you to the bathroom and fetch you a glass of water while you wait for him in the bath.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sam’s favorite part of his body is his nose. He thinks its a pretty nose, nice and slim with a perfect point at the end. He loves how it pokes at your clit when he’s eating you out or burying it in your hair, taking in your scent as his hips relentlessly slams his hips into yours.

His favorite part of your body is your thighs. He loves to nip at them to tease you, loves gripping them while he pumps in and out of you, lifting them so he can pound into you at an angle.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

While he does like cumming deep inside you on occasion, what Sam really loves is to pull out and paint either your stomach or your face with his cum. He thinks you look so beautiful with his release dripping down your skin.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sam loves giving and receiving hickies. To some it may seem juvenile but he loves that he can leave his mark so everyone knows your his, and vice versa.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Despite what many may think, I feel like Sam has very little experience under his belt. Sure he’s had partners in the past but only 2 or 3. That doesn’t mean he has no idea what he’s doing, he’s a natural in the bedroom.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sammy is game for any position, but he really loves missionary because it allows him to look at your face and watch your reactions while he’s fucking you, which turns him on extensivley. He also enjoys pounding into you from behind because it allows him to go deeper which drives you crazy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sam takes your sex life very seriously, and he usually prefers to keep it that way, but he has been known to crack a joke or make a cheeky comment while he’s fully sheathed inside you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Unlike his other hair, sam prefers to keep the hair in his nether regions rather cleaned up. He still keeps a small patch of curls above his dick, but overall he likes to keep it more clean shaven.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It really varies with Sammy, sometimes he can be romantic and sweet, taking his damn time worshipping every inch of you, but he will also fuck you into oblivion whe he’s in a mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think Sam can’t keep his hands off his dick. Like seriously every night he’s on tour your phone rings and on the other end you can hear him breathing heavily before asking you to talk dirty to him. You aren’t complaining by any means though!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think Sam has a big dominance kink, he always likes to be the one in charge and lets you know that. Sometimes he wants you to call him names like daddy or sir and he’ll call you his princess. I also think this bitch is super into edging and tying his significant other up. Also he loves to see his fingers in your mouth or wrapped around your throat.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere around the house tbh, but with his height he likes to have you on a surface like the kitchen counter or the bathroom sink so your cunt is at the perfect level for him to pound into you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Lots and lots and lots of things turn this man on, but the one you know will always get him is if you act really bratty or give him attitude, there is nothing he wants more than to show you who’s in control right then and there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sam is game for a lot of things but I don’t think he’d ever want to do something that would cause you actual pain. Sure light spanking and choking he’s okay with but nothing beyond that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sammy loves to wrap his lips around your clit and prod at your entrance with his fingers, watching you come undone, he especially likes it when you tangle your fingers in his hair as you write from the feeling of his mouth.

He REALLY loves seeing your lips wrapped around his cock, gently guiding your head to bob up and down on his length, it will have him cumming in no time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like I said before Sam can do either, it really all depends on what mood he’s in.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

While he will pull a quickie every so often if you guys are on a crunch for time, he doesn’t prefer them. He’d rather wait until your schedules are clear so he can really take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you propose an idea to Sam he is literally in the bedroom before you can finish telling him. Most of the time he’s down to try new stuff.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sam can go a solid two rounds at most himself, but he makes sure you cum at least three times.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You and Sam have a few toys that you bust out every so often, some silk restraints and a little bullet vibrator that he likes to press on your clit when he fucks you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Unfair should be this man’s middle name. Samuel is one of the biggest teases in the book, but it turns him on so much seeing you grow more and more frustrated.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sam will let out soft moans and groans but he loves dirty talking to you, always telling you how good you feel and how good you take him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of Sam’s favorite things to do is make you ride his thigh. He might be reading or working on a song while you beg him to fuck you, and he’ll say some shit like “well babygirl you know how to get yourself off if you really want it that bad” before patting his thigh.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sam is longer than average thats for sure, he’s about 8 inches, probably even a bit over, and he’s not too girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a very high sex drive but he knows how to control it. He just tries to go off how you’re feeling and whether you’re in the mood or not

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Within five minutes that man is out like a light. He’ll do his aftercare duties but the second his head hits that pillow he’s gone. But that’s okay, he works hard and never forgets to tell you how much he loves you before closing his eyes.

[juyoens]

coffee, waffles, & the boy next door | eric sohn

summary: you’re not really into this whole adulting thing yet, but now you have two things to look forward to: the new guy next door who keeps jokingly asking you to dinner every time you see each other, and the person who found out they’ve been unintentionally stealing your favorite waffles at the cafe and has started telling the baristas to leave notes on your coffee being all cocky about it. pairing: eric sohn x gn!reader ft. some tbz members making cameos pairing: slice of life, romance :p warnings: you & co. def say ‘fuck’ at some point, you and eric are kind of crazy, horrible attempt at comedy

It’s been over a year since you moved into your new apartment, which has you over the moon because 1. You live alone now and you can do whatever you want, and 2. It makes you totally feel like a legit adult….if such a term even exists.

And as for the third reason, well…..

“Y/N!” The cheerful, hearty voice that always greets you as you make your way back from work belongs to Eric Sohn, your next door neighbor.

“Hey! D’you have a good day?” you plastered a smile on your face once you turned to him. Ever since you moved in he has always greeted you, some days even helping you carry your groceries inside since he knows you live alone.

The routine of asking each other about how your days went had gotten you two standing outside your apartment doors for like 30 minutes while you just kind of….awkwardly held onto your key already inside the keyhole.

But you were always so immersed into your conversations with Eric, having the positive energy of someone so funny and cheerful constantly around you be such a contrast to your days at work where you’re still trying to get the hang of things. In summary, you’ve grown fond of your neighbor. Your really really really cute neighbor.

There’s always this one line that he says though that catches you off guard each time.

“What if....you went to dinner with me?" jokingly, of course.

You’re not sure how he even manages to casually slip that in each time and why he does so jokingly, but it always ends in the two of you bursting out into laughter before waving goodnight and getting inside your respective apartments.

“They’re clearly interested, who the fuck asks that everyday?” a co-worker of yours, Chanhee, says with simple directness as the two of you walk inside the nearby cafe before heading to work.

“There’s no…..way. Fuck!" your smile slips as soon as you reach the display of pastries, seeing your favorite waffles filled to the brim with cream, gone, once again. Just like every other day.

It shouldn’t piss you off this much, but the baristas know about your whole struggle and have told the person who keeps getting them ahead of you all about it, leading to them having the baristas leave messages for them whenever they hand out your coffee.

Chanhee simply lets out a chuckle as you let out a gloomy sigh. The usual barista working the morning shift and the reason behind this weird waffle war starting, Younghoon, gives you an awkward grin as you walk up to the counter.

“The usual, Younghoon. Thanks.” you order, and he doesn’t say anything and just gets to work with it. You watch with an annoyed look as you watch him place the post-it note on your coffee cup.

“Well, well, what’s it gonna be this time,” Chanhee mocks as Younghoon hands over the cup to you. “Thanks….Younghoon.” you force a smile at him, and he simply shrugs. “You were just late by 2 minutes, y’know.”

“We really shouldn’t have stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just to talk about my cute neighbor,” you turn to Chanhee with a disappointed look.

“There are other waffles in the city, you know that right?”

“It’s not like this one though.”

Chanhee rolls his eyes at you at how ridiculous and funny he found this whole situation, while you look down at your coffee cup and take the sticky note off.

I won again! You should get here earlier, they sell out fast, if you haven’t figured that out yet ;)

“I do know that!” you huff, and Chanhee nudges you to tell you that you just said that out loud and now the people behind you are just giving you weird looks, but you completely ignore that and just get out of there.

The day passes by with you forgetting the whole thing like you usually do, and you write a mental note to yourself that you’ll be there earlier tomorrow, which, you’ve wrote so many of that your brain is on overload with the same note being written every single day only for you to not succeed and get that damn waffle every morning.

There’s something good to look forward to, at least.

“Y/N!” The familiar voice is like music to your ears at this point. “We seem to always get off work at the same time, no?” he chuckles.

“How was your day? I don’t really have much to tell on my part, but there’s this really funny person who keeps trying to get the waffle at the cafe across the street from where I work, and I do feel bad but also those are my favorite so I’ve just found it fun to leave them-”

“What?” your eyes widen and your voice raises at him, cutting off his babbling. "That was you?!”

Eric drew his eyebrows for a second in confusion, before terror overtook his face as soon as he realised what you were implying.

“Y-You….Oh my god. That was you, Y/N?”

“I asked you that first! You mean to tell me I’ve been so friendly with the guy who's been stealing my waffles for the past months?!”

“I didn’t steal them!”

The two of you bicker, your voices echoing through the halls before some guy named Sunwoo peeks his head out his apartment door and tells you two to shut the fuck up or at least lower your voices.

Now with your little argument interrupted, the two of you mutter your apologies to the poor guy before turning back to one another in awkward silence, unsure how to return to it.

After a few seconds of silence, you tried to stifle a laugh, before bursting out into laughter. “What?”

“We just...argued about waffles.” you breathed out, making Eric burst into a fit of laughter with you.

Your neighbors probably think the two randos who were just loudly arguing about waffles and now laughing like maniacs in the hallway are batshit insane, but you two couldn’t even care less about that right now.

“Ok, well, I’m really sorry about the notes thing. I promise tomorrow I’ll let you have it. If only I had known that was you….” he says, making the effort to sound assuring.

“It’s fine. I don’t care now that I know who’s been doing that,” you assured, letting out a chuckle. But then, a bright idea. This was your chance to get that dinner that you wanted.

“Although,” you begin, Eric’s head suddenly jerking back in your direction. “Since you’ve been jokingly asking me to dinner all this time, you should get on that for compensation.”

Eric grins. “That wasn’t a joke at all. I just kept doing it since you…..kept laughing it off."

Great. Good to know you both are crazy and really fucking oblivious.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. As payment for that, I’ll be getting the waffle again tomorrow.”

[fanfic-me-up]

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more? 

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi​ and @im-here-for-the-heroes​ for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk​ this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?” 

Denki swallows. 

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you. 

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm. 

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor. 

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position. 

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!” 

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.” 

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?” 

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead. 

“Ho-hold on, let me just…” 

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer. 

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business. 

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!” 

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.” 

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.” 

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years? 

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time? 

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane. 

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight. 

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.” 

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.” 

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A. 

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone. 

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” 

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth. 

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular? 

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid. 

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras? 

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…” 

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.” 

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.” 

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.” 

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army? 

“What the fuck, Denki?” 

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?” 

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?” 

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.  

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you. 

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?” 

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own. 

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.” 

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared. 

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be. 

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in. 

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again. 

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?” 

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.” 

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-” 

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line. 

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish. 

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second. 

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!” 

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.” 

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?” 

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.” 

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes. 

You both stare straight ahead at nothing. 

“Did you mean it?” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” 

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him? 

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did. 

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes. 

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever. 

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!” 

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?” 

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

[auramindedd]

Drunk Thoughts and Feelings - SMAU*

Part 17

CorpseHusband x Fem!Reader

<3

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol & alcohol consumption

A/N: summer started for me a while ago, but i wanted to take some time for myself. finally gonna be posting a lot more frequently! i’m super excited. also, taglist will be updated soon, i just have to go through all my posts and i haven’t really had time to do that. will try my best to get to it as quickly as i can :)

*links aren’t working for me, AGAIN, so i’ll update this and other posts when they do work!*

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You plop down on a stool at the kitchen counter, contemplating even answering the door.

First of all, it could just be a package. If anything, they’ll leave it at the door. No need for human interaction.

Second of all, you don’t want to answer the door. The only thing that can happen is the person at the door will keep ringing the doorbell or knocking, but eventually, they’ll leave.

Lastly, it could be Corpse. Corpse jokes around all the fucking time, but who’s to say he’s joking now? He lives in San Diego, and for all you know, he could live five minutes away from you. He did say he’s literally here.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, the doorbell rings. You get up to look through the peephole, making sure it’s not someone trying to rob you.

A tall, broad figure stands there, their head down. Their hair is dark and curly, fluffy too. They’re holding a small gift bag in their left hand, their right hand still on the doorbell. You look down to their hoodie, and your heart drops to your ass...

Slowly, you unlock the door, opening it up just a bit.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, leaving you speechless. “I won’t rob you, Y/N.”

You open the door all the way, letting him in. You’d be your bubbly, outgoing self right now, but there was nothing that could’ve had you prepared enough for Corpse standing at your apartment door.

“Uh- sorry, I just didn’t expect this.” You gesture for him to sit on the stool next you.

“This is for you.” He passes the small gift bag to you.

“Corpse, I swear, if you wasted a shit ton of money on me...” You slowly open the bag, not wanting that to be the case.

Getting the small jewelry box out, you give him a stern look. He nods his head, urging you to open it faster. Finally, you open it. There’s a frog ring in it. Corpse puts his hand over the box and you see the matching one on his finger.

Honestly, the fact that he remembered the short interaction you guys had about frog rings means a lot to you - more than the gift itself.

“Can I give you a hug?” You ask him. He opens his arms, standing up from the stool. You jump into his arms, almost knocking him over. Corpse wraps his arms around you, radiating warmth and you feel safe in them.

Rae and Brooke walk in. Of course you’d forget to lock the door.

“Okay, wow! Hey, Corpse!” Rae places the bags of snacks down, Brooke following suit behind her.

Awkwardly, you and Corpse stop hugging. He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. Cute.

***

The fact that right now all of you are laughing your asses off, telling stories, talking about anything, and just getting through the night so quickly, it’s crazy. It’s crazy how comfortable everyone is with each other. You honestly thought it would take you a while to get used to Corpse being here, but you don’t want him to leave.

You guys have gotten through bottles of alcohol and now you’re all tired, completely worn out from all the laughing. Brooke and Rae head to bed.

“Thank you for having me, Y/N.” Before Corpse can get up from the couch, you stop him.

Slightly giggling, you hold him back. “You’re not driving drunk, dumbass.”

He sighs, leaning back into the couch. You watch as his eyes get heavier, his breathing becoming even.

“Come on,” While you are a lot smaller than he is, you still do your best to walk him to your room. You hold his arm around your shoulder, practically carrying him.

After what feels like ages, you reach your room. You carefully place him on your bed, letting him get comfortable.

“I didn’t bring any extra clothes.” Corpse slurs, opening his eyes slightly, only to be blinded by the lights in your room.

You burst into a fit of laughter as he covers his eyes quickly, complaining about how bright it is. You turn the lights off, leaving only your fairy lights on.

“You don’t need extra clothes, Corpse. Just go to sleep.” You grab a blanket from your closet.

Corpse opens his eyes fully. “Where are you going?”

“To the living room.”

“No, stay here.” He lifts up the blanket that had been placed on top of him, scooting over to create space.

You shake your head, “Corpse, I’ll be okay.”

“But I won’t be. Stay, please?” He juts out his bottom lip, and that might just be the cutest thing he’s ever done.

Knowing he’s drunk and that once he wakes up, he’ll forget any of this happened, you decide to get in next to him. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Honestly, you’d do anything to be able to experience this every night.

Maybe it’s just your drunk thoughts and feelings...

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