#sams ass?? when did that happen???

[ardentpoop]

the tags on that playthings gifset are so fucking funny

sometimes i like u guys

[fingertipsmp3]

Girl help I don't understand my homework

[sinner-as-saint]

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 

— 

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 

But no. 

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 

“She left me.” 

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 

—

But now Bucky knew where you were. 

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 

That’s it. 

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 

But that ended up not happening. 

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 

“Bucky, I—,” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 

More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him. 

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 

You nodded in confirmation. 

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 

Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 

— 

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 

“And you’re mine.” 

— 

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 

“Bucky.” You warned. 

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 

You sniffled. “Buck…” 

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 

This time, he made you a different promise. 

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

[wildwestdean]

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 

“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 

“You said-” 

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

[andshesaidwhat]

Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.

[samara444]

THE 3D DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST.

the 3d is 100% irrelevant. shadow? mirror? delay? FUCK THAT BRO it doesnt even exist! the onlyyy power it has is the one you give it.

you think you fell off? till now u were affirming and persisting but something horrible happened in your 3d and now everything sucks again? congratulations, it doesnt matter, cuz you still have it. you still have your desire.

you fucked up? you have doubts? you start looking at the 3d for validation? congratulations. doesnt matter. I still have what i want.

you felt negatively? you acknowledged the lack of ur desire? you thought whyy is it not here yet? congratulations. doesnt fucking matter at all. i already have it.

spiral. go ahead and cry and whine and have doubts and question if this is real or not. hate everything and feel like shit. doesnt matter baby, YOU STILLLL HAVE WHAT YOU WANT!!!

when we say the 3d doesnt matter. it truly doesnt. the only meaning the 3d has is the meaning we give it.

i felt like i fell off, the month changed and my 3d didnt so i started wondering where is it, why dont i have it, am i doing something wrong, then the intrusive thoughts follow “what if its not real” “omg am i just wasting my time” “what if i dont get it” “what will i do now” you know what i did? i gave myself the biggest smile and told myself….it doesnt matter sam, my love. you still have it. and i dooo. i still do.

you have to understand that this disgusting ass stinky crappy old 3d which is literally a graveyard, an absolute shitshow that does not have anything to do with us, its all the past, its all dead, so it doesnt matter how i react, when i know i have it in my god state, aka my imagination, aka the only true reality, aka the only reality that matters at all.

so you cann spiral. you can fuck up. my god you can have a mental fucking breakdown and ur 3d could turn into absolute shit and ur sp can hate u and ur dad could get cancer and a tsunami could come and world war 3 can start…IT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER!!!! IT HAS NOOOO EFFECT AT ALLL.

take ur power back. literally announce that no matter what this old dead reality shows u, ur life could go to complete shit, trust me that doesn’t matter when fulfillment is present in your heart. ur only job is to have it. stop reacting. stop stop stop reacting and start having, thats where all your power lies and thats the way to pure fulfillment.

-love, samu <3

[anakinsdove]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

pairing: sam monroe x shy!girlygirl!fem!reader

summary: sam can’t seem to get hard, he also can’t stand you, but he needs your help.

c/w: nsfw, fluff, friends to lovers, sam pretends not to like reader but they’re actually friends, handjob, makeout session, overstimulation, unintentional dacryphilia? reader doesn’t know she has that kink, also sam is mean and reader is kinda innocent if not naive.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 𝟮,𝟮𝟱𝟴.

Sam stroked his cock lazily, laying on his messy bed while “Paranoid” from Black Sabbath played from his stereo volume insanely loud, he stared at the ceiling eyes wide open. To say he was frustrated was an understatement, he’s been stroking his cock for the past 45 minutes and he can’t even get hard yet, he doesn’t understand what’s wrong, “fuck!” He yells in frustration, he watched every single porn tape he owned and couldn’t even pop a boner, from time to time he looks beside him to the porn magazine, hes just not focused, not even his imagination can help him… it’s been like this for the past week. Maybe it finally happened, his cock doesn’t work anymore and he’s still a virgin, he’s pathetic.

Weed doesn’t work, porn doesn’t work, imagination doesn’t work and he’s not lucky enough to get action, the only thing worse than not being able to get hard himself is not being able to get hard with another girl, he would rather kill himself. His wrist aches and he cries out in frustration, he’s so needy, and he’s sweating, it’s so unfair…. he doesn’t hear you knocking on his window.

“sam!” you been calling his name for the past two minutes but it felt like an eternity for your antsy little ass, he’ll kill you if you go inside without his permission, you don’t understand what his deal is when not letting people go inside he’s too dramatic you think “sam!” you call again, now you’re starting to get impatient so you decide to open his balcony door and get inside.

Sam cringes at sunlight and cries out “get out!” throwing at you the porn magazine beside his head as he quickly covers himself with the sheets… what the fuck?

“What is this?” you ask curiously as you kneel to pick up the magazine your eyes instantly landing on the woman with big tits “Turn around!” Sam yells furiously, you do as he says and quickly puts on a pair of boxers, when he realizes you’re still flicking through his magazine, he walks over and takes it right out of your hands, you don’t say anything only look up at him with doe eyes… sam looks away.

“Are you ready to go?” You ask with that sweet and calm voice of yours, exactly the opposite of Sam’s “Go where?” He asks annoyed, you never made plans of going anywhere together, “My house, we’re going to watch a movie” sam pretends to think hardly about it, making you think he might have more important things to do, cooler things to do than to watch a movie with you, well he doesn’t. “Fine but I’m picking the movie” you nod and Sam turns around to grab some pants from his floor.

“Let’s go” Sam says like it’s obvious he’s done and you’re just standing there like an idiot, you follow him downstairs and to the front door and this time sam opens the door for you but still pushes you a little to get out faster.

You start walking trying to maintain his peace, and steal glances at him when you can, before he notices it “What?” Sam asks… so he did notice after all “Nothing its just… you’re not wearing makeup” you say “So?” He asks “it’s uncommon” he doesn’t roll his eyes or anything, you might be starting to think you’re friends. 10 minutes later you arrive to your house and this time you open the door for Sam.

“Where’s your mom?” He asks “she’s not home” “cool” Sam knows very well the way to your room, your room is completely different to his, clean bedsheets and freshly made bed, pink wallpaper decorating your walls and what might be the star of your room, your pretty vanity displaying all of your makeup, Sam always looks a little bit interested in your makeup but when he realizes it mostly soft colors and pink, blushes and lip gloss he loses interest just as quick, he thinks the only cool makeup product you own it’s black eyeliner, you grab your favorite disc “six pence none the richer” by six pence none the richer and “Kiss me” starts playing, Sam’s face instantly turns in disgust.

“What?” You ask, “isn’t there anything less awful you could play?” “Huh?” “Limp bizkit or something” “Limp what?” Sam decides to drop the topic due your answer. “Wait here, I’ll make the popcorn” you sprint out of your room and sam wanders through your room, he’s done it a dozen times by now, even knows which one is your underwear drawer, where your diary is… he beats up your plushies and when he’s done he goes across the room and stares at your Chad Michael Murray poster you probably found in a girly magazine and gives it the middle finger.

He can hear you singing downstairs and he rolls his eyes, what’s wrong with her? Sam asks himself, and two minutes later he decides there’s nothing worthy of his time in your room and lays on your bed staring at the ceiling “Here” you say putting the popcorn bowl on his stomach, he didn’t even hear you come upstairs, you sit next to him and squirm trying to get comfortable, Sam quickly looks away when he sees your skirt riding up a little bit “So, what movie are we watching?” You ask excited

Sam smirks

“Sam!” You cry out trying to cover your eyes with the popcorn bowl, of course he picked “Texas Chainsaw massacre” you’ve never watched this movie before and you totally hated it, 40 minutes later into the film.. Sam ignores your plea and his eyes are still focused on the tv, “Sam…” you say weakly with a pout in your face, “Sam can we please watch something else?” Sam sighs and grabs the tv remote to pause the movie. “Why?” “It’s too scary” “You’re such a crybaby” Sam says annoyed “It’s all fake, you know that right?” “It’s still very awful” you say and Sam grabs the popcorn bowl from your arms “sorry” you say apologetically.

“Do you want to go outside?” You ask “No” “What do you want to do?” He doesn’t respond “Sam” you try again “what!?” Sam says annoyed and you look like wounded puppy “what’s wrong? you seem really annoyed today, more than usual” “I’m fine” you sit closer to him, now your thighs are touching and he can smell your dizzying body lotion that smells like cupcakes, he stares at your lips and your cleavage…

“You can talk to me, I won’t judge you” Sam knows you would never do it, you’re too pure to make a joke of any situation that might be hurting him “My dick is broken” he lets out abruptly “what?” “I can’t get hard” Sam confesses “Oh” you don’t really know what to say…. “Why?” “I don’t fucking know” there clearly annoyance in his voice

“Are you going to see a doctor?” “What!? Why the fuck would I go to the doctor” “I dunno” you say confused and mostly to yourself “Are you going to tell your mom?” “You give the worst advices ever, seriously, are you that stupid. I wont tell my fucking mom” now he sounds genuinely angry. “Hey you’re not being nice!” Now it’s your turn to yell at him “I’m not trying to be!” You grab your pillow and hit him in the face with it, hard enough to make him yelp, then he grabs your other pillow and hits you with it, you gasp offended “Hey!” You grab the pillow again and start hitting him repeatedly pushing him on his back and getting on his lap as you keep your assault, you’re practically jumping on his dick as the bed moves and creaks beneath you, “Stop!” Sam yells urgently under you, you keep going and Sam lets out a moan and urgently grabs your hips to keep you still “S-stop! I’m sorry”

You finally stop the assault, your expression changing to confusion when you realize Sam is panting beneath you, “What’s wrong?” You ask, he looks up to you in shock and sits up, you try to get off his laps but his hands hold your hips still “Did I hurt you?” You ask with evident sadness and regret in your voice “I’m hard” Sam confesses breathlessly “But I thought you couldn’t-“ “I couldn’t!” You carefully remove yourself from his lap, his blue eyes stare at the obvious tent in his pants and you do it too, he takes the pillow and covers himself feeling ashamed “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” There’s slight annoyance in his voice “You know what is like trying to jack off soft?” You shake your head “It’s fucking annoying” “But I made you hard isn’t that what you wanted?” He shakes his head “I thought I helped you” you said confused “You could help me if I could kiss you” he says and you look at him shocked “i thought we weren’t friends” “We’re not friends” he says “Are you my boyfriend then?” “What!?” He says shocked “I dunno” you say “L-Look sometimes what you think you know doesn’t necessarily have to do much with reality” you tilt your head to the side “Okay”

You start leaning in and he lens back a little bit, you open your eyes in confusion and quickly closes them when he finally kisses you, his lips are soft, inexperienced just as yours, he moves his lips a little more impatient than yours, he’s uncoordinated, you moan when he grabs your waist roughly with one hand trying to pull you close to him, he’s not gentle, not because he doesn’t want to but because he doesn’t know how to… “Sammy… I want to help you” you say breathlessly… he kisses you again and moves him hands to tug on his pants, also his boxers, his cock is freed and slaps against his stomach… “what do I do?” You ask, so much for helping him “Just w-wrap your hand around it” you wrap your hand around his dick too loose for his liking he groans in annoyance due your unintentional teasing.

Sam wraps his hand around yours instructing you to tighten your wrip, and you do, he guides your hand to stroke him faster “Yesyesyes something like that” Sam says and his eyes screw shut “g-give me your hand” he says breathlessly, you do as he says and he spits in your hand “You can go again” you feel the familiar wetness in your panties as you keep jerking him off, the wetness you feel in you aching pussy that can only be relieved when you grind yourself against your plushies rubing nicely against you clit.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Sam say between moans, “Play with my balls c’mon” you cup them gently in your hand not knowing much about what to do with them.. when you start rolling them between your fingers, they feel nice and heavy on your palm fuzzy skin feeling so delicious against your fingers, his heavy cock in your hand is pulsating, you look at him and see his stomach contracting where his shirt rode up… he can’t help but let out pathetic whines “You sound so pretty Sam” you say and his eyes roll back, he moves his hands up to grip your tits and massage them, unexpectedly he grips them too hard and you make a small “ow” sounds make him grip them more gently Sam thinks he’s in heaven… he might be.

“c-cumming cumming!” he pants “ohh f-fuck!” Sam spams, his eyes roll back and his thighs shake, it’s a sight for sore eyes… white ropes of cum paint your hand and your wrist, you keep moving your wrist to help him ride his orgasm, just like when you keep grinding against your plushies after you cum… but Sam is not used to it “w-wait wait!” Sam writes on the bed trying to get away from your touch, “what?” You ask as your wrist keeps moving up and down still at a really fast peace, his head rolls back and you hear a whimper, his toes curl inside his shoes as he kicks his feet desperately… “ah ah ah!” tears start falling from his eyes wetting his eyelashes as he gasps for air “s-stop” you stop instantly when you hear the word and Sam groans tiredly… what the fuck… you gave him the best orgasm of his life… You “Y/N L/N”

Sam curls into himself panting still… you move to your nightstand to grab a wet wipe, you clean your hand and move him on his back… wiping the cum that landed on his stomach and some on his dick, Sam hisses at the contact of the cold wipe on his dick… “Did you- did you like it?” you ask nervously, Sam opens his eyes and puts his softening cock back in his boxers and tugs his pants up. Sam nodds shyly “T-thank you” You unexpectedly hug him falling on top of him, “I’m glad I could help-“

“Y/N!” You hear your mom call from downstairs shes coming upstairs Sam panics a little “Hey Sam!” Your mom greets Sam and he weakly waves at her “What are you guys doing?” “W-We just finished watching a movie” “Oh Okay” finally your mom leaves to her room.

Unexpectedly sam kisses you again, this time is soft and gentle, not rushed but still passionate, “You’re so pretty” he admits “I thought you didn’t like me” you admit “I do” “I thought we weren’t friends” “We’re not!” Sam says and kisses you again.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜! 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤?

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers @i92-93 @sweetparty

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

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[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 6 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: date anxiety, Sam Hwang, OC had a pothead phase in high school, cursing, probably the worst date of OC's life, alcohol, peach, jungkook is a drunk mess, mentions of throwing up, explicit content: mentions of jungkook and oc having sex

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: in this one, jungkook and OC proceed to be frustrating again :') hope you enjoy haha <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 1st 

You count the water drops on the vitrine of the restaurant.

One, two, three, though the third joins the second to merge into a single, bigger one. 

It’s all you can do to quell your nerves as you’re surrounded by the low chatter of the other patrons in the restaurant. You’re sitting next to the window, looking at the world outside. It’s unusually warm today, and the snow turned into rain earlier, though you know it will ice as soon as the temperature drops again. It feels like déjà-vu, like you’re stepping back to Valentine’s Day, though the company will be different tonight.

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook, and he’s been avoiding you. In truth, you don’t even think you’ve seen him once since last Sunday. He’d come home while you were eating dinner in the kitchen, and he’d walked in, patted your head, and grabbed a glass of water. When he’d stayed, leaning against the counter and looking at you, you’d asked him what he wanted.

He’d only frowned and said you were weird, and that had been that. 

To be fair, you know what he wanted. Or at least what he deserved. Apologies, that is, for the way you spoke to him at the bar. But you haven’t been able to give him any. Maybe because it pushed him away, rebuilt the true distance between the two of you as if nothing ever happened. It’s safer that way, especially considering how involved you’d already gotten after just a few days.

Then again, you get why feelings would grow so easily with him. It’s the risk that comes with him, the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t do. As a kid, that same thrill had always made you fall more on the bad side, though you’d always been good in school. But did you have a pothead phase in your last two years of high school? Yes, you did.

Looking at yourself today, you think you made it out of it pretty well after all.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. He’s late. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s late – Sam Hwang has shown time and time again that he cannot be trusted. And frankly, you don’t know why you’re here.

Why after last week’s shit show and what happened last summer, you still agreed to meet up at a restaurant that’s definitely over your budget. 

Another sigh escapes your chest, and you tap your feet under the chair, anxiety spiking through you. You feel foolish and dumb and everything in between, and you’re starting to want to head home when he finally appears outside, heading for the door.

Your heart stops in your chest. As a matter of fact, you think it’s dropped to your ass before Sam makes it to your table, apologizing profusely. He’s dripping water, and you realize he’s walked all the way here.

You do find it in yourself to feel bad for him, just a little bit. Because you’re careful around him, afraid he’ll just hurt you again. 

“Sup,” Sam says as he finally sits in front of you, pushing his long hair back. “Shit, it’s cold.”

You grab your scarf, handing it to him. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, holding your gaze as if to make sure this is not a trick, and then he finally takes the scarf. He sighs in contentment as he wraps it around himself, before saying, “Your perfume smells really good.”

You know. You know because Hoseok once told you the same, and so did Jungkook. 

“Thanks,” you say, looking down at your glass of water.

There’s an awkward silence, as if Sam is expecting you to say anything else, but you can’t find for the life of yourself anything to say. So you busy yourself with looking through the menu, reining in your wince as you notice just how much out of your budget this restaurant is.

“Long week?” Sam asks as he starts leafing through his own menu, though he keeps a careful eye on you the whole time.

You nod. “Had some lab reports for two classes due tonight,” you tell him. “Managed to get them done but they drained me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad,” he says, laughing lightly. “You’ve always been a smart ass.”

You purse your lips, cheeks dusting with pink. “Thanks.” You clear your throat, meeting his gaze just long enough to ask, “What about you? How was your week?”

Then your eyes fall back to the comfort of the menu, and you try to figure out if ordering an appetizer for dinner would look bad.

“It was great,” he says. “I didn’t have much to do for classes, so I just chilled. Spent some time with Jake and Soobin.”

You remember them. Jake is the redhead you saw at the bar last week, and Soobin is the third male who completed the friend group last summer. There were three other girls, though you haven’t heard of them since you moved to the city.

“Nice,” you let out, offering him a small smile.

The awkwardness expands tenfold after that, and you choose to order the cheapest meal on the menu. It’s pasta, and you figure you can never go wrong with pasta. After you’ve chosen, you still pretend you’re looking though, trying to escape having to face the heavy silence.

A waitress saves you from it by stopping by the table, asking if you want anything to drink. Sam, with his easy smile and nonchalant attitude, immediately attracts her gaze.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he says. “And the lady will just have water.”

You freeze. You freeze with your eyes shooting at his pretty features. He looks back at you once the waitress nods, scribbling the order on her pad even though you’d assume it’s something easy to remember.

“What do you mean I’ll only have water?” you say.

Sam laughs. He laughs, as if his choosing for you isn’t paternalistic and so out of date. “I’m sure you wouldn’t drink a beer,” he answers, and it’s almost condescending. 

You make an effort of looking around the restaurant, pointedly stopping at a table near you, where the couple is sharing a bottle of wine. “I’m sure we could order wine?” you let out questioningly.

“I don’t like wine,” Sam replies, matter-of-factly.

You widen your gaze, tilting your head to the side. “And that means I can’t order any?”

“Damn, why are you so pressed about this?” 

Because this is not Sam. Or if it is, you do not recognize him. He’d charmed you last summer, whisked you off your feet and made you believe in love at first sight. It seems you were blinded, and it’s really hard to find any charm in the man sitting in front of you.

“Never mind,” you say, choosing peace over war.

But in that instant you already make the decision that you will never see him again. You’ll stay for dinner, though, if only because you don’t want to have spent twenty dollars on an Uber for nothing.

When the server comes back with the beer and to take your order, you realize maybe you should have left. Indeed, Sam orders for you again – a salad this time around – while he orders a steak for himself. You have to do everything in yourself not to cringe as he does so, and you keep an empty, plastic smile on your lips as he starts speaking to you about what he’s been up to since last summer.

And he speaks and speaks. That’s something you recognize in him – the way he can speak so much without you having to say anything. It’s like he’s doing a monologue – back then, you’d loved listening to his voice, if only because you liked the musicality of it. Right now, it’s grating on your nerves, and you keep diverting your eyes to the window, hoping there’s some salvation for you on the other side.

Obviously there isn’t any, and if Sam realizes your disinterest, he doesn’t let it show.

You think he’s on his month of December when the food finally arrives, and you’d thank God if you were religious for the respite in Sam’s spiel. Indeed, the silence is most welcomed, and you eat your salad, trying not to think about the pasta you wanted to order.

At least it’s a decent salad, but you’ll know you’ll have to eat something else when you get home.

“And the funniest part,” Sam is saying when you tune back into the conversation, “is that the girl wasn’t even pretty!”

You widen your gaze. “Oh!” is all you’re able to say. 

You think you see the couple at the table next to yours sliding their gazes to you, and the girl leans in closer to her partner, saying something. You can only assume that she’s laughing at your expense, and you get it.

You would too, if you were seated next to someone having the worst date of their life.

And it’s strange. So fucking strange, because once you would have given everything to be right here, with Sam Hwang. Now you feel like he’s a stranger, like he didn’t kiss you at the end of the night on that first party as if he’d been waiting for you his whole life.

“But her friend was,” Sam adds, and his fork makes a grating sound as he moves it on his plate. “Sorry,” he mindlessly apologizes. 

“No worries,” you let out, with no ounce of emotion in your tone.

Indeed, your social battery ran out while he was on October, and you think now he’s almost caught up to the present. Not that you care – you know you’ll never want to hear about Sam Hwang again as soon as you’re out of this restaurant.

“And you?” he asks, surprising you.

Surprising everyone in the restaurant, you reckon.

“Me?” you say.

“What’s new?”

You let out a small laugh. You can’t help it – it bubbles out of your mouth by itself, and you think it almost sounds a little crazed.

“Nothing much,” you answer. “My classes have been chill, can’t wait to be in med school, and I am starting to have a headache.”

Sam frowns, lips slightly curling in disdain. “Am I boring you?”

You blink once, twice, plastering a fake smile on your lips. “Of course not! I’m happy to know everything that’s happened in your life since you left me alone on the docks last summer.”

You say that at the exact same time the waitress stops next to the table. She gasps, or at least you think she does, and then she clears her throat.

“Would you guys like some dessert?” she asks as she eyes the empty plates in front of you.

“No thank you,” you quickly say before Sam could once more decide for you. “We’ll take the bill.”

He’s shocked. You see it the moment your eyes meet his again. You hope he sees all the ire in your gaze, all the hatred for what he did months ago and for this revelation that he isn’t shit anyway.

“I wanted dessert,” he says once the server is out of sight.

“Well, you can go home and get yourself some,” you drawl. “I’m tired of this.”

“Excuse me?” Sam lets out. “I’m stooping so low for you, and you’re just tired?”

“Seriously?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking last summer but you are an asshole, Sam Hwang.”

“And you’re so much better?” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’ve been looking outside this whole time as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re the one that was begging me to hang out.”

You snort. “Oh, did I now?” you say. “I think I remember you asking for a date.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’m done here.”

You watch him get up, not surprised in the slightest as he throws your scarf at you, and then you watch him leave. He knocks his chair down when he grabs his coat from the back of it, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turns towards you at the commotion. You just remain seated, trying to not explode, lips stretched into a thin line.

When Sam is out of the restaurant, the girl at the table next to yours leans closer to you. “I was about to tell him to fuck off for you, girl,” she says, and it makes you laugh.

“Man, to think I once had feelings for that douche?” you reply.

She chuckles. “He’s just red flags, run while you still can.”

You look at his chair on the floor, wincing. “Highly doubt he’ll ever approach me again.”

“And I say good riddance.”

You laugh along with her and her partner, and then you get up to right the chair, if only to busy yourself. Because your hands are trembling – you’re not good with public scenes like the one that just unfolded, no matter how friendly the people around you are. So you’re relieved when the waitress comes back, though the price on the bill seems to be laughing at you.

You still pay, cringing at the hole it’ll make in your budget, and then you wish a good evening to the girl and her partner, before heading towards the door, putting your coat on on the way. You stay in the lobby as you order your Uber, and you go through the Instagram stories as you wait.

Jungkook’s story is fourth, and you wince as you notice he posted it less than a minute ago. It’s nothing much though, just a picture of a table filled with beers, and you’re about to skip when something catches your eyes.

It is indeed a table filled with beers. A very familiar table, and you think you’ll murder Jungkook.

You slide in his dms as you slowly feel anger rising in you.

[08:57 pm] You: when were u going to tell me ure hosting smthg at the apt tonight?

Jungkook doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, you don’t even know if he’ll see, and all you can think is that you need to go home and go fast, just to make sure no one breaks anything. 

It’s not that you’re against having get-togethers at your apartment. As a matter of fact, you’re hosting something with your friends tomorrow, though you’d planned to tell Jungkook tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is payback for not telling him before. For not apologizing, for pretending that he’s just a stranger even though two weeks ago you were moaning under him. 

You push the thoughts away, but they’re like a door you were supposed to pull – they remain unmoving, taking up the whole scene of your mind. They haunt and taunt you all the way home, and you reckon it’s better than to think about Sam Hwang, about the shit-show of the date you just had.

So you cling to the anger rising in you, to the regrets and to the disappointment. Maybe because Jungkook is part of your present, and not your past. Maybe because no matter how much you avoid each other, your paths will always cross. 

The Uber drops you right outside the door of your building, and you thank the driver before stepping out into the cold. The rain has relented now, but it’s already started to turn to ice, so you carefully maneuver to the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, doing your best not to fall. You’re successful – not like a similar, freezing rain day, and you climb the stairs to the door properly.

You’re not surprised to find the door unlocked. 

But you’re definitely surprised when you open the door to the sight of five grown men sitting in your living room, with two pretty girls hanging with them. Though music is playing loud enough to burst your eardrums, everyone’s gaze turns to you, and you stand in the open door with a slightly frightened look on your features.

“Peach!” Jungkook bellows.

If he realizes he’s called you by that pet name in front of everyone he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he jumps to his feet, heading to where you’re standing.

“It’s freezing,” he comments as he stops next to you, pushing the door close. 

You immediately smell the alcohol on him, and you cock an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” you state.

He flicks your nose. “Astute.”

You don’t know how he manages to use vocabulary like that when he’s drunk. What you do know is that everyone is still staring at you, as if they’re watching the scene unfolding in a movie theatre.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth, turning away from everyone to focus on Jungkook who’s leaning against the door now.

“Oh, peach,” he lets out. “Sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Bewildered, you watch as he flashes you one of his iconic grins, the one that makes him look like a bunny, and then he heads back to where he was sprawled on the floor. Right next to one of the girls.

The other girl you know, and she’s currently leaning against her boyfriend. She offers you a bright smile when your gazes meet, waving hi.

“Hey,” you reply as you take off your boots and coat. You put the latter in the closet, before turning towards the living room again. 

The group seems to have moved on to something else, and you watch as Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. You don’t think you’re ready for what it does to your lungs – it sucks the breath right out of them, and you quickly leave to head to your room.

You pitstop by the kitchen first, trying to see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. You fall on some leftover noodles that are undoubtedly Jungkook’s. You snatch them from where they are, thinking it’s a good revenge for him hosting people over without telling you. They’re almost done reheating when Sera walks into the kitchen, and she beams once more at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, since Tae left, you guys don’t usually come over.”

And it’s true. Except for Jimin, you haven’t seen the rest of Taehyung’s friend group since he left at the beginning of January. 

“It was Jimin’s idea,” she says as she heads to the fridge. She fishes a lemonade from the top shelf, before carefully closing the door again. “We facetimed Tae earlier.”

You nod. “Awesome. How is he?”

“You guys don’t speak?” she asks, and she genuinely sounds concerned.

You shrug your shoulders because you do speak. But ever since what happened with Jungkook, you’ve found it hard to truly speak to Taehyung, to pretend that you didn’t fuck his best friend, so you’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible. 

Though it might be slightly suspicious, Taehyung hasn’t caught up to it yet.

“We do,” you say, chuckling. “Just not that often.”

She hums. “Oh well. Do you want to join us?” she asks, motioning over her shoulder. “JK said you make for a good Kim substitute.”

You snort, unsure of what you just heard. “What?”

She smiles secretively. “You know what I mean.”

Your gaze widens, and the microwave beeps, startling you. You pull your noodles out of it, wincing at how warm the bowl is. You drop it on the counter, before turning towards Sera again. “As a matter of fact, I actually have no clue what you mean.”

She bursts out laughing, that clear crystalline laugh you have no doubt ensnared Jimin when they met years ago.

“Jungkook just said that you guys hung out during the power outage and that you were chill.”

You wonder if you’ll have to murder him. You reckon you might, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you hope no one actually understood what he meant by that.

“He’s right,” Sera adds. “Each time you’ve hung out with us I’ve always found you fun.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you try to smile, try to act as if you didn’t turn entirely white at her words. 

“So come eat with us!”

And then she’s waltzing out of the kitchen, and you wonder if you should just jump out of the window. Avoiding Jungkook seems like the only viable option, especially when you step out of the kitchen, noodles in hand, to the sight of him with his head in the lap of the other girl. She’s running her hands through his hair while he plays on the Switch, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Jungkook catches sight of you, and he awkwardly sits up.

“Come here!” he tells you, and everyone’s head once again turns to you. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down at the bowl in your hands. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my food,” he complains, and he gets up, handing his controller to the girl. 

You’re keenly aware of the way her gaze slightly narrows on you as Jungkook makes his way to you. He makes to grab the bowl from your hands, and you turn away from him.

“Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook groans. “No.”

And then he wraps an arm around your waist, skillfully stealing the bowl from your hands and raising it over your head. He lets out a victorious cry, and his arm tightens around your waist when you try to reach up.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” Jungkook says, looking down at you.

He’s close. Dangerously close, especially under the eyes of his friends. Of that girl he was all cuddled up with just a few seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

He dumbly smiles, before winking at you. “Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

“Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

And you know it is. He smells like it, like he’s had too many beers. You wonder how he can look sober even though he drank so much – if you were him, you’d be making a fool out of yourself by now.

“Please, Jungkook,” you say after a few seconds of tense silence, of your eyes getting lost in the enormity of his gaze.

He frowns, and his arm lowers from where he’s holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

You gulp. “I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

He takes a step away from you, handing you the bowl as his frown deepens. He cocks his head to the side, questioningly, and then folds his arms on his chest.

You do your best not to avert your gaze to the muscles on his arms, instead letting your eyes fall to the bowl of noodles.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he asks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

You shut your eyes, sighing deeply. “Jungkook, it’s none of your business.”

“He’s an asshole,” he lets out, a little louder than necessary. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze again. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He looks anything but happy, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now, can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You make the mistake of looking at the group in the living room, and you hate that they all quickly look away, pretending that they weren’t watching.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Jungkook suggests. “To cheer you up.”

You settle your gaze back on him, and he really looks like he wants to cheer you up. He’s pouting slightly, a small crease between his brows as he looks at you intently. There’s a light in his eyes that you don’t want to interpret, not when you hear the echoes of him telling you that you would just pretend nothing ever happened.

Are you weak for being unable to tell him no? Maybe. But you’ll have plenty of time for regrets later.

“Okay,” you let out. “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Here’s to trying to be nice to you, huh?”

You chuckle, mimicking his expression. “Poor you.”

“You steal my food and then sass me?” he says, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek. It attracts your gaze to his mouth, and your heart once again squeezes, though this time it doesn’t hurt.

No, this time it makes blush spread on your cheeks, and you feel like you’re starting to burn under his gaze.

“You deserve it,” you declare, and then you’re walking around him to head to the living room. 

He jogs to catch up to you, and once more grabs the bowl from your hands. It almost falls to the floor, but he effortlessly saves the noodles, and then motions with his elbow to the coffee table.

“Jae, clear the table please,” Jungkook says.

The guy – Jaehyun, you think? – obeys, though he grumbles the whole time. The unknown girl ends up helping him, and a few seconds later you’re seated in front of the coffee table, with Jungkook next to you. He sits so close you feel his thigh against yours, though he leans back into the couch, attention shifting to the TV, where Jimin and Eunwoo are playing a riveting game of Smash.

Everyone seems to forget that you’re there, and so you eat the noodles, trying your best not to think about Jungkook next to you. About the way you could easily cuddle in his side with a slight shift towards him…

Treacherous little thoughts. You don’t let them live in your head for longer than a few seconds, perhaps because the spice from the noodles overtakes everything. You wince, glancing at Jungkook, who catches your gaze, light dancing behind his pupils.

“You okay?” he asks as your cheeks burn.

“I forgot how spicy you like your food.”

He grins as you fan yourself. “You’ll get used to it. We just have to build up your tolerance.”

Then he does something incredibly stupid. You think his friends will notice, but they all erupt in cheers as they watch the TV, and Jimin slams Eunwoo’s character off the platform.

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your upper thigh. You’d say it’s possessive if you could produce any thoughts, but your brain zeroes in on the spot where he touches you, and you look down. He seems to realize it at the same time as you, and he quickly moves his hand away, frowning slightly.

He’s cute like this. Lips jutting out in a pout, a crease between his brows, confusion swirling in his gaze. Like he didn’t mean to touch you like that, the act done out of instinct. 

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

His words clang through your mind, and you turn away from him. Eyes falling on the noodles, and you take a shuddering breath in. Your memories provide you with images of you and Jungkook, alone in this living room. Of an attraction that was inevitable, yet now it tastes bitter. 

You’d like to be angry with him. For being so casual about everything, for wanting this over whatever secretive relationship you could have shared with him before Taehyung comes back. Maybe you’re stupid for wanting anything – the longer it would last, the more it would hurt. But as you force yourself to eat the food he cooked, you think the spice on your tongue isn’t really what’s hurting.

No, it’s your heart in your chest. It beats achingly, even more so as Jungkook ends up moving away from you, as if realizing through his drunken haze that he shouldn’t sit so close to you. That even if you tried to be friends, just friends, he’s already fucked you like there was no tomorrow. And during the power outage, it truly felt like there wasn’t any. Like you could just stay in that bubble outside of time.

When Jungkook ends up lying back with his head in that girl’s lap – Lisa, you now know – you pretend like you don’t wish it was you, running your fingers through his hair. You pretend like he’s not there, yet you see him in the periphery of your vision. You hear his laugh, know he smiles, and you wonder, is he just pretending?

Or is he attracted to that girl? You wouldn’t blame him. She matches his doe eyes, pretty features always hinting at a smile. She’s attractive, and you quickly understand that she is Sera’s best friend. Or at least it seems so, because she’s comfortable with the boys, and even more so with Jungkook.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they have history. Or if Jungkook is planning to get with her – hell, if you were a guy, you reckon she’d be the type of girl you’d want to get with.

Yet it hurts. It burns, and you find it hard to focus on the television. Even more so to participate in the conversation, and if someone notices, no one says anything. Perhaps because these are not your friends – no matter how friendly they might get, you’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to them.

You’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to Jungkook.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Jaehyun says, shaking you out of your thoughts. 

You’re done eating by now, and you just turn to look at him, a startled look on your features. He chuckles at the sight, and you feel your cheeks burning.

“No, all good,” you tell him.

“Careful,” Jungkook says from behind you. “Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

Now, Jungkook’s speech is definitely slurred. He’s drunk – you were aware of it before, but you hadn’t realized just how much. Indeed, when you turn to look at him, you know the bitter expression on his features is one he usually hides behind a mask. 

Just like that you know that he indeed does care, in the weird, twisted way that Jeon Jungkook can care. It reassures you somehow, but also breaks your heart. 

He was there, during the power outage. Did he, too, use it as a way to escape reality? Is he, too, regretting having to go back to normal? 

You like to tell yourself that he does.

“Bruh,” Jaehyun lets out, and Jungkook quickly composes his features, offering a bland smile to his friend.

The others just keep speaking about whatever it is that they’re speaking of now, but you can tell Jungkook is upset. You don’t think it’s jealousy because of Jaehyun – he’s haunted, just like you. 

He stays upset for a while. Drinking in silence, sitting up when Lisa says something to him and him only. She looks disappointed, and her eyes dart to you for a millisecond before she looks away. If she wants to blame you for Jungkook not wanting to cuddle with her anymore, then so be it.

Because you like that she’s not running her fingers through his hair anymore. Like that he sits between the two of you, and you imagine he’s just a little closer to you than he is to her. You’d want him to be – it’s a dangerous thought, much like all of your thoughts when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

When Eunwoo suggests doing shots, Jungkook plasters a smile on his lips. You see it for the mask that it is, yet you don’t mention it. You long to reach between you and him, to smooth the lines on his brow away, but you don’t do anything. You accept the shot that’s handed to you, and a few minutes later, you let it burn down your throat.

After that, you decide to grab something to drink, only so that Jungkook won’t have to feel alone. Though you highly doubt he’ll realize the silent support that you offer him. 

While you’re still in the kitchen, Lisa walks in, a pretty smile lighting up her equally pretty features. You freeze by the fridge, and she moves closer to you, casually saying, “Hey, how are you?”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay. You… want anything to drink?”

She looks down at the lemonade you’ve gotten for yourself, nodding once. You hand it to her, and it takes her a few seconds before she grabs it, awkwardness lingering in the air. You take another one for yourself, and then you face her again, hoping she’ll be gone.

She hasn’t moved an inch. As a matter of fact, she’s looking at you pensively, nose slightly scrunched.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister?”

The question takes you aback. You widen your gaze, struck like lightning just hit, and your mouth falls open. You think you must look stupid, so you clear your throat, trying to escape the awkwardness.

“I am,” you reply. “You are?”

“Lisa! Sera’s friend,” she supplies, and she offers you a nice smile. “Something happened between you and Jungkook?”

Straight to the point, then. You’d expected her to circle around the pot, never really fully digging in, but she’s straightforward. You can only admire her for it, even though your heart starts hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

She purses her lips, before chuckling. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just remain silent, trying to figure out how to escape the situation. She notices your unease, and she winces.

“Yeah, sorry, I definitely made things awkward,” she says. “It’s just…”

“Peaaaach,” Jungkook yells from the door to the kitchen, and both you and Lisa startle. You meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns towards him. “Just talking.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Well then, why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

You stifle a laugh, right as Lisa glances at you over her shoulder. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, and then she shrugs, before walking away.

Jungkook moves out of the way to let her pass, and then he walks in, heading towards where you’re still standing next to the fridge.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he stumbles a little when he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

You hear it in his speech. “You want water?”

“Water?” He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and steps closer to you, towering over you. You tilt your head back, though you don’t budge from where you’re standing, effectively blocking the fridge’s door. 

“Move,” he tells you.

“Drink water first.”

He lands a gentle hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden motion makes you shriek, and you push on his chest. 

“Let me get a beer,” he tells you. He drops his head next to your ear, and his warm breath tickles the side of your face. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Listen,” you whisper, and you gulp as his lips ghost on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Yet when he does it again, your eyes flutter close, and you angle your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

He shakes out of it, taking a step away from you. The sudden absence of contact feels like a cold shower, and you gulp again, this time to swallow the lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

You watch him as he moves to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for himself. He fills it at the sink, and he drinks it all in one go, as if that simple gesture will be enough to sober him up. You highly doubt so, but you’re relieved as he pours himself another glass, this time leaning against the counter to drink it.

“What was that?” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, pulling at his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that,” you tell him. “Especially not when there are people around.”

That second sentence is uttered in a low secretive tone, but evidently he still hears. He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Sorry,” he repeats. 

He does look apologetic, if not troubled. Like maybe he lost control of himself for a few seconds, and you see it for what it is – you left your mark on Jeon Jungkook. Because there was desire, in his voice, as he held you close to him. Want, in his half-lidded eyes, like you could just step back into that outer world the power outage consisted of. 

But you can’t, and as the sober one, you realize you’ll have to be the one to maintain a safe boundary. No matter how much you hate it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you clear your throat as you open your can. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He smirks lazily. “Liked it?”

The conversation is taking so many 180-degree turns that you feel dizzy, and you shut your eyes, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. It fizzles in your throat, and though it burns you force yourself to drink and swallow.

You only open your eyes to meet Jungkook’s gaze again when half of the can is gone. And you glance towards the door, knowing you’re betraying yourself when you say, “So what if I did?”

“Pretend, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s almost condescending. “What would your brother say?”

You hate the reminder of Taehyung, but it does the trick. It douses you, and you escape Jungkook’s gaze by focusing on the tiles on the floor.

What would Taehyung say indeed. You wonder if he’d jump into a plane and come back right away. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and some part of you believes it might be the only way to keep Jeon Jungkook away from you for the time being. Because without a chaperone around, it’s only bound to happen again.

Especially when he lets his mask of unbothered coolness go. Like he did just a second ago, making your bodily temperature spike. It’s yet to come down, and you take another drink of the lemonade, hoping that it will cool yourself.

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say, reminiscing about what he said to Jaehyun earlier. 

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out, and he chuckles. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him once more. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

“Ever?”

The question is accompanied by a pout, and you hate the way it makes your gut twist. Like butterflies catching flight, treacherous bugs to make you sick to your stomach.

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He’s grinning, yet he doesn’t say anything, only shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his water.

“What’s up?” Jimin says as he walks into the kitchen. He eyes you and Jungkook, and the safe distance between the two of you, before heading closer. “Is this like a lame roommate-only party the others can’t join?” he jokes, and you step aside to let him access the fridge.

“No,” you answer at the same time as Jungkook.

Jimin snorts. “What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, though your cheeks burn.

“Right.” He clearly doesn’t buy it, and he says, “Peach?”

You gulp. “Don’t ask me, he started calling me that last semester because of Mario Kart.”

“She always chooses Princess Peach!” Jungkook quickly adds, and you think perhaps you’re only digging the grave further.

“Last semester?” Jimin asks, and he’s got a knowing smile on his lips. He’s toying with you two, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze slides to Jungkook as if he has any support to offer, but you think it’s too late. Strangely, Jimin retreats, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he lets out. “Why are you drinking water?”

Jungkook motions to you. “She suggested it. ‘Cause I’m pretty drunk.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, sending you a disbelieved look. “He’s been drunker than this, he can handle himself.”

“Why are you trying to get so plastered?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

Jimin purses his lips. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. It seems Jungkook only needed that encouragement to return to drinking, and you watch in horrified awe as he drinks and drinks, downing shots with his friends as soon as you return to the living room. 

You’re not surprised he’s struggling to stand on his feet by the time his friends leave. Jimin and Sera linger for longer, Jimin offering you an apology when he realizes the monster he unleashed. 

“I told you,” you say, sighing. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, raising a finger. “I’ll have you know.” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he sways. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and you stifle a laugh as he glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that,” Jungkook tells Sera, speech so slurred you’re not quite sure what he said.

It seems his friends also aren’t sure, because Sera says, “What?”

Jungkook looks at you, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin says, and he starts laughing.

He’s not faring all that better, and he sways on his feet as he clasps Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook loses his balance, but he luckily just falls against the wall, slowly tilting to the side.

“Oh shit.”

All you can do is look at him as he eventually collapses, though he’s laughing the whole time. Jimin follows soon after, and Sera and you just look at them, eyes wide.

“You guys always drink so much?” you ask, directing the question to Sera.

“They do,” she replies, pointing to them. “Believe it or not but Taehyung’s the one that usually gets them not to drink too much.”

You cock an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah yeah.”

“I swear!” she insists, laughing that easy laugh of hers. “He only got too drunk that one time last semester.”

“And he threw up in the car,” you reminisce, while the guys do God knows what on the floor. “Hardly see that as a good influence.”

“He’s not,” Jungkook says from the floor, and you look down to see him sprawled on his back, Jimin giggling next to him. “Your brother is an asshole.” He looks serious for a few seconds, and then he bursts out laughing. You just remain silent, and he’s the one to speak next. “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hand motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose as if in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He forces himself to sit up, leaning against the wall, as Jimin does the same next to him. Though Sera folds and helps Jimin after he’s offered her puppy eyes even you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don’t help,” Jungkook threatens.

“Alright, let’s see you try.” The challenge hangs in the air between the two of you, as Sera and Jimin watch the scene unfolding.

Jungkook turns his head in the direction of your room, but then resumes his attention on you. “Too far.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?” he asks, and he sounds exasperated.

You groan, rolling your eyes, though you finally step closer to him. “We should have asked your friends…” you trail off looking at Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

“Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in,” Jungkook teases as your hands close around his.

His are clammy, warm, but you ignore it, instead pulling him up. It’s a struggle, Jungkook a dead weight, but soon enough you manage to help him stand. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm, trying to steady him.

“I won’t tuck you in,” you say through gritted teeth when he’s finally standing on his own.

You’re about to slide your gaze towards Jimin and Sera when Jungkook cups your cheek, and you think the Earth has stopped revolving around the sound. It stops abruptly, and you’re propelled forward, in those big eyes looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

You want to hate him. Right now, you want to hate him so bad for telling you to pretend nothing ever happened. Because it’s too natural to lean into his palm, too natural to get lost in his eyes.

How many girls has he ensnared with that sparkly gaze? How many of them have fallen for the trap, only to be abandoned when he’s done playing?

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

He blinks once, slowly, and then turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. Jimin’s mouth is agape, and Sera looks like she’s about to burst out laughing, that knowing glint in her eyes so bright it almost puts Jungkook’s gaze to shame.

“Shit, you’re still here?” Jungkook lets out.

“Not anymore!” Jimin quickly replies, and he tugs Sera towards the door. “We’re leaving. You guys do… whatever it is that you’re doing. We didn’t see anything.”

You move away from Jungkook, and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you for a few seconds before it falls aimlessly at his side. You take a step towards Jimin, calling his name.

He looks at you when he has an arm in the sleeve of his coat, the other one yet to be put on. “Yeah?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, trying to put as much conviction in your tone as you possibly can. “He’s just drunk.”

“Oh.” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. I won’t say shit to Taehyung. I like Jungkook’s head on his shoulders.”

You gulp, your throat feeling so dry you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d die. “Who said anything about Taehyung?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?” he enquires.

You shoot a look towards Jungkook, who looks like a kid who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He’s pouting, eyes angled to the floor, and his hands are hidden in his pockets, as if he doesn’t trust them to not touch you right now.

“No?” you let out once you turn back towards Jimin and Sera.

Both of them finally have their coats on, but you think it’s too late. It’s too late – no matter what he says, Jimin will tell Taehyung. He’s a busybody, through and through, and you just know Taehyung’s ought to know by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

You can only hope you’ll be able to weather the storm when it’ll hit.

“I was just going to say…” you start, not really knowing where to head. “Honestly, nothing more than that – he’s just drunk. If you want to tell Taehyung that Jungkook’s handsy when he’s drunk, I don’t think that’ll surprise him.”

Jimin throws you a no-bullshit look, as if he was there during the power outage. As if he saw the way Jungkook held you, and the way he fucked you like it was the end of the world. 

“To be fair, Jungkook is handsy all the time,” Sera cuts in. “Did you see how he was sprawled on Lisa earlier?”

You don’t know why she’s throwing you a lifeline. But you remain silent, not wanting to dig the grave deeper, and you just offer a nod and a tight-lipped smile to Jimin. He does look confused for a few seconds until he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. “I’m way too drunk for this shit anyway.”

And then he’s turning around, opening the door to step outside. Sera watches him go fondly, before turning towards you again. 

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “He really is drunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you walk to the door. You hug her goodbye, before holding the door open for her. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“See you!” Jimin yells from the bottom of the stairs, and you wince hoping you won’t get a noise complaint. 

“Shut up,” Sera hisses through her teeth, and Jimin throws an apologetic look in your direction before his girlfriend grabs his arm, forcing him to follow her as she walks away.

You look at them for a few seconds before shutting the door behind you, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to face Jungkook again. A moment of you looking at some chipped paint on the door, wondering how it is that the stars aligned to put you in such a compromising position with your brother’s best friend. 

How is it that he had to seduce you, only to walk away like nothing happened after? It makes your blood boil in your veins, and you turn around with ire in your gaze, directed at the man leaning against the wall.

He’s still staring at the floor, his features blank. You wonder what’s going on in that thick head of his. Is he regretting this? Is he realizing that no amount of pretending will ever be enough to cover the fact that you did the irreparable, together?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask him, venom dripping from your voice.

He looks startled, big eyes going wide as saucers as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be onto us!” You vaguely motion behind you, before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?”

You see red. You see blood red, like a bull and its red flag, and you cross the distance between you and him. He waits for you, lips spreading in a lazy smirk as he leans his head against the wall, only so that he can look down his nose at you. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his features.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head to the side, the perfect picture of arrogance.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook,” you drawl, shutting your eyes in annoyance. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes to glare at him. His tongue toys with his piercing, before pushing on the inside of his cheek. 

“He won’t be,” Jungkook affirms like it’s the truth to the universe. “Why would he? Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he pushes.

You sigh, fists clenched so hard they’re leaving moon-crescent indents in your palms. “Like we’re friends. You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you like when I’m touching you,” Jungkook says, voice dropping an octave.

You stare at him in disbelief, quite at the same time as your heart starts racing in your chest.

“Shut up.”

He raises his hand in defence. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

You try to school your features into neutrality, but you don’t know if it works. Don’t know if he can tell that your blood is rushing to your cheeks, threatening to have the effects of his words show on your face.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and a finger of his finds your clenched fist, tapping gently on it. He doesn’t stop there – his digit slowly moves up your arm, and all you can do is stand, frozen in place. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

You hate him. You really do. You don’t understand how he’s able to say this shit when he’s drunk, but then again, maybe he’s wanted to say it sober, but his inhibitions were keeping him in check. Now, nothing forms a barrier between his mind and his mouth, and the words come forth to taunt you, tease you.

To make your heart race in your chest as you look up at those big doe eyes.

“I’m not mad,” you insist, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

He nods. “See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it.”

Now, it hurts. It almost hurts enough to cut through the blinding anger in your blood, though you cling to the anger like it’s a buoy. You cling to it like it’s the path to safety, and maybe it is. 

Maybe it is, because Jeon Jungkook is danger personified.

So, you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest. “Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered.

He sucks on his piercing, and you think his gaze has gone darker. It’s clouded with lust, all directed at you. When he looks at you like that, you feel like the rest of the world goes out of focus, like all there is is him.

Which is quite frankly the reason why you need to stay away from him. To never let him approach you again, to never lower your guard with him again. For Taehyung, yes, but also for your heart that’s barely recovered from Sam Hwang.

It’s strange, to think that you started the evening with Sam, only to finish it so close to Jungkook. To finish with so little distance between you and Jeon Jungkook that you fear you might crash in his orbit once more. 

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach,” he says, voice so low it almost sounds like a growl. 

And you are. You’ve laid your hand flat on his chest, and you can feel the racing of his heart under your palm. You make to move your hand away, but he quickly puts his hand over yours, clammy fingers keeping you close.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His sentence makes you insane. Makes the red spark to life again, and you quickly step away. It’s like you were in a trance – you blink once, twice, and Jungkook appears in all his drunk glory again. He looks at you carefully, the lust fading as he beholds the emotions on your face, the mask you’ve let slip. 

“Don’t ever tell me that again,” you warn him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t,” you insist, scoffing. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-“

Jungkook interrupts you by grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. You’d expected it – you’re the mere comet, and he the star. Though you might have come from Kuiper’s belt, Jungkook has been pulling you in, and there’s no escaping his gravity.

So even though you shouldn’t, you kiss him back. You kiss him back, pushing him back towards the wall. He hits hard, and he huffs out a breath that you swallow as your tongue darts in his mouth. You taste the alcohol on his breath, but more than that you taste him – the inebriating taste of Jeon Jungkook makes your mind spin in no time, and you’re forced to take a step back.

To take a step back and look at his pink lips, now swollen from the kiss. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing is ragged, chest going up and down quickly, much like yours is, too.

“Don’t kiss me again,” you say.

And you walk away. You don’t look at him once before slamming the door to your room shut, hands shaking so hard you think you’ll break. The shaking threatens to take over your whole body, and you almost expect Jungkook to follow you. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the sound of his door softly shutting is like a flatline, haunting you terminally. Like there will be nothing more after that than the memories of his lips on yours, of his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Though it might be sad, though every inch of your body is craving for his touch, you need to be sane. You need to stop before you both get in too deep. Because, even though you could have him now, even though he’s just on the other side of the wall, the moment Taehyung is back, it would have to be over.

You don’t want to get involved with someone that you’re only bound to lose anyway.

You don’t sleep after that, sleep evading you in favour of your spiraling thoughts. You let them carry you like the tornado that they are – you’re in too deep already. 

What will be left of you when the tornado spits you out?

Prev | Chapter 6.5 | Next

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Ughhhhh they are annoying I love them. What did you guys think? Let me know <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[cobaltperun]

Jerks With Hearts of Gold

Tara Carpenter x female Reader (Request)

Masterlist

@alexkolax here you go, sorry I left his for last, I had a blast writing it! Not sure if this completely fits the frenemies to lovers you requested, but I think it turned out fine. Thanks for the wonderful request! 😁😁💙💙 Also this is merged with a similar request here.

Word count: 4.8k

“No, you hear me! Quit picking apart every single thing you watch!” there they go again…

Sam groaned, burying her head in the pillow as she got front seat experience to yet another argument between Tara and you.

“I’m not! I just can’t turn my brain off!” you exclaimed and reluctantly Sam opened her eyes. There you and Tara were, arguing while the twins and Anika laughed their asses off, because of course they would.

“It’s a horror comedy!” Tara argued back, and by this point someone just needed to nudge either of you and you’d just kiss. But no one was doing that, because, according to Mindy, the professional expert, the two of you would just act disgusted and avoid each other. Meaning it probably happened before.

Although, according to Anika, the two of you were already together. Because, well, Tara brought you into the group. She vouched for you, granted behind your back, but still, she, apparently, hated your guts, yet she was the one who dragged you, literally, into the friend group.

Sam still remembered your valiant efforts to get free from Tara’s grip, yelling ‘Unhand me, Carpenter!’ as loud as it was socially acceptable in a park, while Tara grumbled something along the lines. ‘Trust me, I would, but someone insisted on meeting you!’ to this day they had no idea who insisted on meeting you. Because none of them did! Yet Tara claimed Chad did when he was drunk and that… wasn’t impossible, but it was a bit of a stretch.

At this point Sam was very temped to do it, just shove Tara into your arms. You’d either get together or stop talking to each other for a few days and as far as Sam was concerned either option was a win.

Wait… If you got together, you’d be here more often. You’d argue with Tara even more.

No. No! You would absolutely not get together!

Sam would not allow it!

“It’s too ridiculous to be considered a comedy! The woman’s head gets pulled off her body!” you shouted, arguing about whatever happened in the movie.

“Y/N…” Tara’s eye twitched, but she didn’t need her inhaler, so Sam was at least at peace with that. It really was you and Tara being plain and simple childish.

“And that dance montage? Get that out of here!” you complained and for a moment Sam could have sworn your and Tara’s hands touched, just for a moment.

Tara threw her hands up, so Sam must have been seeing things. “The actors were underage, what did you want?!”

“Not even implications, thank you very much!” well, Sam could see some reason in that argument.

Mindy apparently had enough and snapped her fingers getting your and Tara’s attention, though it was clear both of you were reluctant to give it to her. “Come on, at least agree that the actress is pretty,” she said, and the actress really was beautiful, so hopefully you and Tara could find common ground there. Instead of bickering about that as well.

“Never. She looks like Tara,” you immediately shut the idea of agreeing on anything down.

“Excuse me, what?” Tara demanded. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You turned back to Tara and slowly smirked. “Oh, you know exactly what it means,” a moment later Tara was storming into her room, her face red with anger, and you as satisfied as you were just sat back down and sipped on your drink.

At least it was clear you and Tara weren’t getting together anytime soon, so Sam could relax.

There was one time she saw this happen and she began threatening you, only for Tara to come out, yelling that she would deal with you and that Sam shouldn’t get involved. Sam sighed back then, accepting that somehow Tara just liked having her buttons pushed by you, and pushing your buttons in return. It was a strange frenemy situation you and Tara were in, but Sam begrudgingly learnt to accept it.

~X~

Jerk, that’s what you were. Of course she knew exactly what you meant, and you were a jerk for that, making her flustered. She was lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling, still blushing, though not as much as when she came into her room. You were still as annoying as you were the first time you met.

She met you in a literature class, and she was the only one taking it so she couldn’t sit next to Mindy, Chad, or Anika. And by pure, dumb, luck, she sat down next to you, and she regretted it immediately as she could smell the cigarette smoke on your clothes and she couldn’t move away since the seats were taken, and well, plenty of students smoked so she kinda learnt to deal with it. Especially while she was going to parties where cigarettes were the least of her problems. As far as her asthma went.

It still irritated her lungs.

“Hey, I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduced yourself and she was weary, of course she was, she was targeted by Ghostface twice. It was a miracle no one she loved was killed the last time, though both Anika and Gale just barely survived.

So, when you immediately introduced yourself she was suspicious, even though she was the one who sat down next to you. It was just her paranoia. “Tara Carpenter, it’s nice to meet you,” she still accepted your hand because she still, despite being paranoid, wished to live a relatively normal life.

And that’s how you met, you didn’t give off psycho vibes, granted neither did Ethan and Quinn, and she didn’t even want to think about Amber. But she felt strangely comfortable, despite the scent of cigarette smoke.

“You okay?” you noticed her discomfort, a lot faster than most people would.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. Just my asthma,” she smiled lightly, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she didn’t feel like lying.

Your eyes widened and you cursed under your breath, understanding what she meant. And you pulled your chair further away from her. “Shit, I’m sorry. I would switch, but,” you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. “The only people I know in this class smoke a lot more than I do,” you did get up to open the window a few feet away from you as Tara looked at you, honestly not sure if she should get suspicious or if she should find your actions endearing. “Does this help?”

Tara nodded, it did help a bit. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

She had no idea it wouldn’t even take half an hour for your first argument to happen… And it began so nicely.

~X~

You were grinning like a fool in the Carpenter sister’s apartment, doing your best to ignore Sam’s exasperated look and Anika’s suspicious glances. You’ve come a long way since you met the group nine months ago. They initially glared daggers at you, Sam especially, when you and Tara argued in front of them the first time. Well, argued wasn’t exactly the right word, more like a very heated disagreement on a minor detail in the movie you just watched. Now they just accepted it as normal between the two of you and learnt to ignore or find amusement in it.

You barely even remembered what the book you started arguing about was, but you remembered very clearly what the argument was. And you felt sorry for it right now, as you didn’t know how close to home you were hitting.

“It’s a debate, on whether or not people deserve a second chance,” Tara answered the question the teacher asked.

“Correct, thank you. And what would you say, Miss-“ the man paused, having yet to learn all your names.

“Carpenter, sir. I say it depends on what is done and if there is an excuse and effort to fix things,” she said, convinced of her belief.

She sat down as you watched her, you agreed with her, though in your experience people rarely put enough effort to fix things. Still, you wanted to see how strong her conviction was.

“Does anyone have a different opinion?” the teacher asked and you raised your hand. “Yes?”

“I disagree entirely. It doesn’t depend, there’s no going back after broken trust, there will always be cracks, fears, doubts,” you argued and saw Tara raising an eyebrow as you focused almost entirely on her. “And people rarely put enough effort to make it up to the one they hurt.”

Tara bit the corner of her lip, and you’d later find out it was a habit when she was getting a bit anxious. Since you found out you made sure to never bring her to that point. Well, nowadays your arguments were mostly silly. “It’s not just one person that needs to make an effort. Both need to do their part if they want to rebuild their relationship,” she countered, briefly apologizing to the teacher for speaking out of turn, but the man just gave the two of you a go ahead.

“People who hurt you, truly hurt you, leaving deep scars, emotional or of any other kind, either don’t love you, or have no control over themselves, and it takes a lot of effort to fix the second one,” rare few were strong and mature enough to fix that, to gain control, and not do it again, and even fewer did it while accepting that the one they hurt didn’t owe them a second chance.

“You can’t know what they went through, some people need help to do that,” Tara argued and you didn’t realize until later that day that she wasn’t just talking about some belief she had, that she actually went through that.

“Exactly, because I didn’t do it to them. And I refuse to pay for the damage someone else did,” you countered and the argument continued, going back and forth, without either of you being necessarily wrong or right, it really depended on the point of view. You just had the tendency to be a lot more direct and confident in your arguments, making them sound stronger than they perhaps truly were. Tara was more willing to meet in the middle, to avoid direct confrontation, and it made her a much more pleasant discussion partner.

~X~

Tara scrolled through her photos, through a secret album that required a password, just in case anyone got really curious. The photos were completely innocent, but it was the person she was with that made them a secret. And she grinned, looking at the two of you laughing, your arm around her as you hugged her from behind and she took the picture.

You loved going on her nerves, but you had your moments, rare moments where you were just completely soft with her. She had literature class twice a week, and two weeks in she was a hundred percent sure you were a menace she would gladly kick out of the class, just so she never had to look at your face and smug smile and rare, soft smile, ever again.

She noticed it in the second week, but she wrote it off as an accident. But the scent of cigarette smoke was weaker than the first week. You probably didn’t get a chance to smoke before class. And then the second week she realized she couldn’t smell cigarette smoke on you at all. She was breathing perfectly fine, nothing in her vicinity irritated her lungs, but she didn’t say anything. Surely you didn’t quit cigarettes for her.

Any idea that you did that went crashing down through the closed window on the third floor their classroom was on and landed on the harsh concrete with multiple deep lacerations from the glass. Because five minutes later you were arguing about the book that was assigned to read. Even the teacher was getting a bit annoyed by the two of you at this point. But he encouraged healthy debates, and you and Tara were, technically, still having just a debate.

The week after that, when she once more didn’t smell the familiar irritating scent she just had to ask. “Did you quit smoking?” it was rare for the two of you to have a civil conversation that probably couldn’t start an argument, but maybe this would end like that.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Figured it was healthier, and I really don’t want to trigger your asthma, so two birds with one stone, I guess,” you sounded confident, but you still looked away, proving to her that you could, after all, get a bit shy.

“Oh,” Tara, however, was blushing, the heat in her cheeks was damn near unbearable, because even Sam still smoked occasionally. “Thanks,” she pushed her chair a bit closer to you and pulled her things out of her bag.

“Don’t mention it,” you said softly. And then, as if your softer, gentles, kinder, side ran out of battery, you went right back to how things were the past couple of weeks. “Your essay is nonsense; I don’t agree with one thing you wrote.”

Curse the teacher for making you give each other your assignments to read and debate on! “Yours was complete bullshit, I swear you just typed words until you reached the necessary length,” she fired back, both of you already slightly grinning.

~X~

Tara was easily the best person you could have ended up sitting next to for your literature class, though you would never, absolutely never, say that to her face. The only issue was that you absolutely could not go one class without bickering.

You had a long night at work and were actually quite sleepy during the lesson one time, about a month into the semester, and you were catching every other word at best. Your notes weren’t making any sense, and you even had no energy to argue with Tara. So, maybe, just maybe, the day would end without arguing.

“Here,” Tara sighed, pushing her notebook closer to you near the end of the class and you raised an eyebrow. “Just copy my notes,” she told you.

You smiled, leaning closer to her and if anyone said your shoulders were touching they were being a huge liar. The biggest of them all, because there was absolutely no contact between you and Tara Carpenter.

None whatsoever.

“Tara,” you whispered and looked at her, completely serious. “Your handwriting is awful,” you told her, and you swore you saw a vein pop up on her forehead.

“That’s what I get for trying to help you,” she shook her head in disbelief, though she didn’t take her notebook back.

~X~

You and Tara rarely hung out outside of classes before she introduced you to her friends. But there was one time, when all her friends went back to their parents and Sam was working a night shift, so, Tara went to your apartment, dragged you out of your comfy bed, she actually did that. Well, she tried, she was strong given her size, but she wasn’t that strong.

You still remembered the terror you felt. You opened your doors to Tara, woken up about an hour after you fell asleep and let her in. You didn’t even argue, you just closed the doors behind her and went right to your bed and fell back onto it as she rambled about some party or whatever. Something about Sam not letting her go to a party alone, and you were her only option. How was she even going to explain to Sam that she wasn’t going alone? Sam had no idea you even existed!

Okay, maybe she did know you existed if Tara complained about you, but that definitely didn’t make you a fitting candidate to keep Tara company at a party. You were just about to fall back asleep, Tara being in your apartment didn’t bother you one bit, she’d get bored and leave. But then she began pulling your hand to get up.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled sleepily, and surprisingly she let go.

Which was very concerning.

You opened one eye and saw Tara taking several steps back with a very mischievous grin on her face and then charging forward. “Tara!” you cried out, fully awake and jumping to your feet as she landed on your bed, elbow right where your guts was, though you doubted that part was intentional.

Your bed miraculously survived the Tara bomb.

Tara laughed as she rolled to the side, lying her head on your pillow and an annoying part of your brain found the image in front of you rather appealing. “You should have seen the look on your face!” she exclaimed, holding her stomach while laughing.

You smirked, ready for verbal payback. “And you are really eager to ride me,” her laughter stopped, her face turned red and you, satisfied with your work, grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom to change.

Luckily, you didn’t get too drunk that night and by the morning Sam had no idea Tara spent the night anywhere but in her bed. Though she, truthfully, crashed at your place for the night. You, of course, took the couch. And just thinking about sleeping on the couch made you frown. As that was what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks and your body was starting to get stiff, because that thing was not meant to be used for sleeping for extended periods of time.

You couldn’t say you regretted it though. You just couldn’t wait to get a new bed.

~X~

If there was one thing Tara learnt to appreciate about you, it was how predictable you were with her. Come hell or high water she could count on you to argue with her just because you found it fun to debate about things. And as months passed you went from annoying classmate always playing a devil’s advocate and arguing with her on everything, to an actually pleasant company. Most of the times. Sometimes.

She felt like she could trust you. She felt like she could fall for you and not regret it.0

What she didn’t expect was genuine compassion from you. And it happened so abruptly, so out of nowhere, she couldn’t even see it coming.

The two of you met at the front doors as you usually did for the few weeks prior to that day. And the floors were wet, just recently cleaned, but she was so out of it since she was accidentally reminded of Amber that she didn’t notice and she slipped, falling backwards. She wasn’t sure if she released any sounds, but the next moment you were behind her, holding her firmly, one of your hands on her side, the other around her shoulders, with the back of her head leaning on your chest. You were holding her, making sure you’d take the worst of the fall if you still went down, if you didn’t manage to stand firmly enough on the slippery floor.

“I got you,” you told her, clearly concerned, and Tara just leaned against you, barely supporting her weight.

“Can I trust you?” she asked, almost out of breath.

You nodded, your eyes filled with conviction. You weren’t messing around, you weren’t going to argue, you were there, one hundred percent. “I’m here for you, anytime,” you assured her and she grabbed onto your hand, still on her side, accidentally covering one of her stab wounds, and Tara, surprisingly felt completely safe, protected.

“Skip class with me?” she asked and you nodded, helping her regain her balance and the class was soon forgotten. She took you to your place, since Sam was still at home and your place was closer anyway.

You didn’t say one word, but you remained close to her, your hands brushing against one another as you walked and when you went into your apartment you sat down right next to her. Your presence was comforting, though at this point she wasn’t surprised by that.

Tara took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she wanted to do. She wanted to let you in, to fully trust you, to introduce you to her friends and Sam. “Do you know what happened in Woodsboro?” she began and your eyes widened, and that was all she needed to know as she began talking. She poured it all out, Sam, Amber, deaths of her dear friends, the betrayal, coming to New York, and what happened with Richie’s family, she told you everything. Every single feeling she had, things she found difficult to talk about with her therapist, or even with Sam, it just all burst out, like whatever contained those feelings suddenly burst and cracked, letting it all out.

And you remained silent, though you hugged her, tight and gentle at the same time. And it felt so good she climbed onto your lap, clutching at the back of your shirt, clinging to you as hard as she could. You didn’t complain, you just wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, your hands trembling slightly in barely concealed anger. Hearing you gritting your teeth, feeling your fingers twitching, and your body just barely relaxing when her warmth and weight, and voice right in your ear would remind you that she was, in fact, still here, it all felt good to her.

It felt like she was, at least a tiny bit, being released from the horrors she went through.

Though she still didn’t introduce you to others, it took nearly four months for that to happen, and by then, well, a lot of things happened.

~X~

You figured enough time passed that you could move away from your spot and leave the conversation you were having with Chad. “Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you purposely pointed toward the bathroom and hopped to your feet. You went into the hall, and making sure no one was behind you, just went the opposite way and snuck into Tara’s room.

She turned on her bed and smiled, reaching out for you as you knelt on her bed and kissed her soft lips. Damn, you wished you could do this freely, just kiss her whenever you wanted, but you understood her friends might not be ready to accept you as Tara’s girlfriend, and not just classmate she loved bickering with. You licked her lips, just lightly teasing her as she hugged you, her fingers already gently massaging the back of your head.

“I can’t believe the bickering is still working,” you muttered between the kisses. Sure, you and Tara still enjoyed an occasional debate here and there, but you stopped bickering almost a year ago! And the bickering still worked on her friends! And you’ve been sneaking behind their back, sneaking in kisses all over Tara’s apartment. In the kitchen, bathroom if you were really desperate, or the hall if you were feeling rather bold, but for the most part it was in her room, just like this. Tara would storm into her room, you’d wait, and go after her, sneaking a quick make-out session in before you’d come back from wherever you were.

Things were a bit different this time around, as Tara kissed you harder than before, pushing you until your positions were switched and she was straddling you. She grabbed onto your collar, pushing it to the side so she could kiss the spot where your neck and shoulder met, and, though a bit risky, she decided to leave a mark, biting the spot and sucking as you grabbed onto her hips to steady yourself.

“Tara,” you sat up, you both knew you didn’t have much time. “We shouldn’t risk it,” you told her, but you still pulled her in for another kiss, your tongues meeting as her hands gripped your shoulders.

“Just a bit more, I miss this,” she admitted, and you missed it too, and it was worth getting caught to you, but you weren’t completely sure it was worth it to Tara.

In the end, you just said screw it and kissed along her jaw, gradually going lower until your lips met her neck.

“Remember how flustered you got when I kissed you for the first time?” Tara asked out of blue, sighing and holding your head close to her neck. Well, maybe it wasn’t completely out of blue, next week would be a year since you got together.

“You were so damn smug about it,” you grumbled, though you still kissed the side of Tara’s neck, paying extra attention to the more sensitive spots, while, much to your annoyance, making sure you didn’t leave marks anywhere visible.

“Mhm, you deserve it for making me work for it,” she grinned, her hold on you growing stronger as she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

You pulled back and looked her in the eyes and then at her lips, inviting, beautiful. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman you ever saw, so no, Tara wasn’t pretty. She was much, much more than that. And you kissed her, pouring all of your passion and love for her into the kiss, deepening it as Tara moaned. The feeling of her body pressed against you made you wish you could just stop hiding from her friends and Sam.

And then four very loud gasps, followed by yelps and doors slamming against the wall and then bodies stumbling onto the floor on a pile of limbs and everything else, with poor Chad underneath the three women broke you and Tara apart.

“Y-You two are-“ Mindy stuttered, and you had to admit you enjoyed the professional expert being surprised.

“Together? Yes,” you shrugged, the cat was out of the bag, and you couldn’t exactly say you were arguing telepathically and needed to have your tongue deep inside Tara’s mouth to do so.

The four of them scrambled to their feet and just looked at you and Tara like nothing ever surprised them as much as this.

Eventually, Anika got over her surprise and offered an open palm to Mindy and Chad. “Pay up, I guessed it right,” Anika demanded from them.

The twins groaned and you and Tara watched incredulously as they each pulled out twenty bucks and gave them to Anika. But nothing, not twins and Anika betting on whether you and Tara were together, not their surprised faces, not your secret being revealed, nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to Sam’s expression. She looked like someone completely shattered her brain.

“Sam?” Tara tried calling her sister, just to snap her out of the stupor.

“You two… for how long?” Sam managed to utter.

“Uh, before you guys even met me,” you admitted sheepishly, and nudged Tara to get off your lap, but she was comfortable and very few things could get Tara off your lap, especially now that you two got caught.

Not that you minded, you loved when she was on your lap, but her sister might get a heart attack if this continues, and you didn’t want Sam to die.

Sam nodded, she nodded several times, humming to herself before she just walked out of Tara’s room. “She’ll get used to it,” Tara shrugged as Sam gave you two a thumbs up.

Sam took a deep, rather audible breath and came back, pointing right at you. “Don’t break Tara’s heart,” she warned with her best glare, which was actually intimidating.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Tara reassured her before you could answer, and frankly, you loved how quickly she said that. “We kinda broke her bed back at her place, so… not saying that won’t happen ever again,” she chuckled sheepishly as your eyes widened and you all turned to Tara. Well, you did break the bed, but she did not need to tell them that.

Sam opened her mouth, but then closed it as Tara shrugged, acting like she was completely innocent in that case of property damage.

“I think we might have broken Sam,” Tara told you, clearly surprised that that was even a possibility, and she glanced at the rest of your friends and then gestured at the doors.

“Right! Got it!” they scampered outside as you and Tara chuckled, and just like that you were alone once more.

“I love you, you know,” you said as you kissed her cheek and she just grinned.

“I know,” she smirked, barely holding her laughter back as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, come the fuck on!” you groaned, dropping down onto the bed and pulling Tara on top of you.

Tara laughed like she just heard the best joke ever. Well, she did love teasing you. “I love you too,” she said as her laughter subsided and she kissed you on the lips.

[theillustraitor]

Silly idea i had for a fake ep, i definitely want to draw a lot more for it(and i will), but ive been sidetracked by another idea for now :’)

A long ass explanation is below the cut for those who want it, but the basics are that it’s an Ember vs Vlad music competition with plenty of flashbacks to Skunk Punks because damn we need more backstory on the college trio *and* i just think itd be really funny

(Also Sam is only supporting Vlad because its "the first time he’s ever been cool" lmao)

So a few notes to start:

- This is for my au(though this ep is fairly canon compliant)

- This is set well after AGIT so Vlad is (mostly)redeemed and willing to help out on occasion

- Vlad's secret is out to Jack and Maddie(the accident, ghost form, everything). Things are tense, but better than when everything first came out(generally they tolerate each other, and while none would admit it they do kinda want to be friends again)

With that out of the way, the episode itself goes like this:

(Cold Open) Danny, Sam, and Tucker decide to do ghost helping with Ember! She is not having it though and blasts them away everytime. They end up asking Vlad for help since he used to be in the Skunk Punks, and maybe a fellow musician could get her to listen?

(A Plot) It did not work. Ember hated Vlad too and called him "Gramps" amongst other things. In mutual anger they set up a competition. Vlad wins, Ember has to listen to the kids, and if Ember wins... she gets to beat up Danny! (surprisingly Vlad did *not* set that bit up). Competition happens, but in-between songs/rounds Vlad and Ember start talking about their lives. Ember actually ends up spilling about the bad parts of hers before their last round. She doesn't want to play anymore, but Vlad manages to cheer her up and they play her last song(her signature one) together. The main trio are happy Vlad was able to help her(and that Danny will not be beat up).

(B Plot) When preparing, Vlad goes to Fentonworks hoping that Jack kept his old instrument. Jack can't seem to find it so Vlad leaves. Jack is determined not to fail Vlad again though so he keeps looking(Maddie joins the search too). He finds various old things that bring up memories of the Skunk Punks. The flashbacks would show when they first started, practice, stuff like that.

(Finale) After everything Vlad is looking sadly down at an old Skunk Punk photo, and Jack is doing the same. Vlad then surprisingly is back at the Fenton's door. After some talking(and Jack giving Vlad his old keyboard guitar back), Vlad plays the last song he never played from the competition with Jack while Maddie watches and listens :)

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny. What if he offhandedly mentions his parents being THERE (as in not dead) and being Doctors (not the same kind of doctors Bruce's parents are) and things like that and doesn't realize that the batfam starts thinking that this? This is what's different with this Bruce. He didn't lose his parents and thus does not grow up wanting vengeance, and his parents are similar in personalities but in a different field!

Now Danny is still as casual young Bruce as ever but the others are just freeking out around him.

Things are strange for a while. Danny knows that his actions have caused the Waynes to be....wary around him. Even Jason- who honestly threw a whole ass parade for Gotham in celebration of Joker's death- seemed to be tense around him.

Danny can't really say he blames them. He still doesn't know why Phantom reacted the way it did- a bit alarming. His ghost side marked Joker as a threat from the moment it laid eyes on him- a threat that could not and would not be reasoned with.

His ghost -half attacked, knowing that Joker's existence threatened his core. A core that was created from the desire to keep his friends safe at the moment of his death. (He had known he would die the moment the portal's electricity hit him- and Danny had not been mournful of his end but rather horrified that Tucker or Sam could have followed him to the afterlife. His last thought as a human was Please let me live long enough to keep them safe.)

Never has that happened before- not even when faced with Vlad or Dan. It was strange to watch Phantom attack and not be in equal amounts of control within his body.

Phantom has always felt a part of him but also not. Danny had once tried to explain it to Jaz, only to end up frustrated when she tried to paint Phantom as a different personality that shared the mind-space with Danny.

Danny knows Phantom isn't like that.

He's not another person- Phantom is Danny in the same sense that Danny is alive but dead. For the same reason, Danny is the flipped color scheme of Phantom. They are one, just viewed differently.

Or maybe they saw the world differently?

It's hard to say and even harder to put into words.

The closest Danny could come to explain was an example Tucker gave him. Someone is the same but acts ultimately differently online, even when they aren't trying to catfish someone.

It's the fact they are behind a screen that gives them just the extra amount of courage. Tuck had said.

Ancients, he misses Tuck. His ship is not ready to venture into his Ghost Zone- hell, if Danny is honest, it's barely able to move. He is trying his best to get it working, but it's slow going. Too slow, even with Wayne's generosity.

"Master Brucie," Alfred started, pausing just within the doorframe of Danny's room until invited in. He does that now, keeping to his manners as though Danny was a guest of the Waynes. Not someone who he can be so familiar with.

It stings to know his killing had lost him the right to be treated as a stranger when Alfred had always treated him as young Bruce Wayne the moment he was found.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to smile. It falls flat, but it's worth the effort.

Alfred's face stays impassive, and Danny tries to tell himself that he doesn't care. He's not a young Bruce Wayne. He wants nothing to do with the Wyanes'.

"There are more gifts for you." The bulter says. "Shall I bring them to your room?"

Danny has received a lot of fan mail since his actions were leaked to the public. Everyone knew that Joker was taken out by Danny Kane. And there wasn't a single person in Gotham who hadn't been hurt or known someone injured by the madman.

He is being praised as a hero.

For murder.

Danny can't find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Joker needed to die. He had too many chances to change, and too many people got hurt.

"That's okay. I'll go downstairs and look through them. I feel like watching a movie anyway." He shrugs his shoulders while strolling to the door in his lazy stride.

Alfred steps out of his way, bowing ever so slightly. "Very good sir."

Sir.

That stings.

Danny doesn't bring it up or mention that Alfred keeps a safe space between them. Not enough that it would be rude, but definitely one of a servant following a master instead of a man who thought him the younger version of his son.

When they arrive at the room, he is surprised to find a white shipping cart filled to the brim with packages and letters waiting for him. Standing beside the cart, flipping through the envelopes, is Tim.

He has yet to see much of Tim. Not since Danny proved his doubts weren't as unfound as Danny actively tried to convince the other teen of.

No time like the present.

"Hey, Tim." He calls just to mentally get the other prepared for his approach. As expected, Tim whips around with a narrow eye-ed glare that does nothing to hide his distaste for Danny. Alfred follows them into the room but stays by the door at an appropriate distance. "Anything good?"

"Good, how?" Tim bites, and Danny fights to not roll his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe a letter from my mom saying I'm a good boy or another football from dad-"

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred cuts him off- which, okay, that's never happened before. The butler has never overstepped his position- even when they thought him harmless little Brucie- to talk over him.

Danny turns to find the man pasty white, looking both cautiously overjoyed and wishful. "Did you make a joke about your parents, Master Brucie?"

"Ugh, Yeah? Why?"

"Young sir, are- are your parents alive?"

Danny is floored by the choked-up emotion in that one sentence that all he can do is nod. Tim drops the package he was checking over, his jaw slacked, and staring at Danny like having parents was the answer of the universe.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne are alive in your universe.." Tim all but breaths. "They are alive and have more than one kid."

"Why is that a big deal?" Danny asks, unable to himself. "What happened to Bruce's parents here?"

"Master Thomas was a doctor," Alfred says, ignoring Danny's question. But he now hears the answer in the past tense when referring to Bruce's parents. "Is he still in your world?"

"Yes, and so is my mom." PHD doctors, but they don't need to know that.

"That's why you like this." Tim slumps into the chair closest to him. Danny is mightily alarmed that he seems pale now. "That's why you don't know anything about Batman. He was never inspired. You....you really are a civilian."

Danny will deny that he fleed the room when Tim burst into tears till the day he died. He does not look back even when Alfred yells for his return. He has outstayed his welcome.

He slips into his room, grabs anything not nailed down with any form of technology, and then activates his intangibility. He sinks down down, and down, to the caves. He knows where the Bats work, knows where to go from his nights where he tried to work on ship.

He flies in that direction, knowing he will never see the Waynes again. Not after realizing how much pain his lies have unwillingly caused.

Master Post Link

[wwilsonbarness]

i messed up...

pairings:  bucky barnes x pregnant!reader

summary: you go against what you and bucky agreed, how will he react?

warnings: angst, pregnant reader, asshole bucky, none more i think?

word count: 1219

a/n: Bucky's a major ass in this but i have part two started if anyone is interested :)

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

part 2

masterlist

You didn’t mean to mess up this bad, you just wanted a normal day, a day where you could leave the tower alone without an Avenger there to protect you. 

You knew what you signed up for when you and Bucky became official. He had told you so many times that being with him put you at risk but you didn’t care, you loved him too much to be without him. He had insisted that since that day you would have someone there to protect you at all times, you knew it was in a loving way it was a lot to handle, and ever since you and Bucky discovered you were pregnant it had only gotten more intense. You knew it was for the better but it was suffocating you, which is why you went to the store alone this morning. It wasn’t far from the tower and you would be back within the hour, surely nothing could happen in that time?

On your walk home your phone started to buzz, and not just once but it kept buzzing until you opened the chat and the messages started loading in. They were from Sam, the first was a picture of you, from just 15 minutes earlier, you were reaching up to the top shelf in the store and your shirt had risen up, making your bump slightly more visible. How someone noticed that you have no idea. The rest of the text messages were fairly calm but the last one made you panic.

Sam

where are you? let me know you’re okay please Y/n are you safe?  He doesn’t know yet. 

Shit. Bucky was going to be furious at you, he had told you so many times not to go out alone because of this very reason. Now everyone was going to know that you and Bucky had a baby coming. You and Bucky had both agreed that you would keep your pregnancy between as few people as possible, for the baby’s safety and now you’ve compromised that. Only the other Avengers, your family and a couple of friends knew about it. 

Unintentionally you slowed your pace for the rest of your walk, sending Sam a quick text to let him know you were safe and on your way back.  You were scared to face Bucky but at least you could tell him yourself before he found out online or by Sam. 

It doesn’t take long even with your slow pace to get back, you hesitantly push the button for your floor, mentally preparing yourself for facing Bucky. He had been especially insistent on keeping your baby away from the public because of his long list of enemies and being a part of the Avengers meant that list was forever growing. 

When the lift dings and the doors open you pause for a second before stepping out, first you check yours and Bucky’s bedroom but it’s empty so you head for the common room. When you walk in Bucky’s there, as well as Sam, Tony, Natasha and Steve. At first glance things look normal, and no one notices you walking in until you speak. “Hi..”

That’s when Bucky turns around, his jaw was clenched together, brows furrowed, anger practically seeping out of him. He knew. You want to apologise but you can’t manage to get any words out. A few seconds pass before Nat’s voice breaks the silence. “Are you okay Y/n?” You nod towards her, fidgeting with your fingers trying to distract yourself from the shouting match you knew was about to begin. You’d seen Bucky angry before but never this much and never because of you. 

“Bucky, I’m so-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence before he interrupted you 

“Did you not listen to anything I said to you? Did you really just ignore everything? I told you this would happen but what? You just did it anyway?“ 

“Buc-“ He wouldn’t listen, his words were spilling out of him. He didn’t even know what he was really saying. He was just so scared and angry at himself for not protecting you and your baby. 

“You’ve seen what the people we deal with can do and you still acted like a complete idiot.” You could hear muffled sounds of Sam and Nat trying to stop him from going any further but all you could focus on was Bucky’s words.  

“No. How could you make such a careless mistake?” 

Your eyes were growing wetter with each word he said but you tried to keep yourself composed. You didn’t feel as if you had any right to be upset, you were the one who messed up. 

“I wasn’t trying to..” You attempt to interrupt him and defend yourself but at this point you knew that was pointless. 

“I mean seriously,” He pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words, “it’s like you don’t care about our baby at all.”

Oh. That one hurt. He had to know you cared right? Your baby was everything to you. Could he really think you didn’t care?

Tony had stayed quiet up until now. “Enough James!” He screeched from behind Bucky, “I won’t let you talk to Y/n like that, either calm down or leave my tower.” 

You knew he was going to be angry at you but you were not prepared for this much of it. Bucky stares at you for a few seconds before he walks out, dropping his head down to your stomach and scoffing as he does so. Now it wasn’t just anger you felt from him, it was disappointment too. 

You can’t bring yourself to move from the spot you’ve been standing in since you arrived, the only thing breaking you out of your trance was someone’s hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure who until they spoke. “Y/n? Are you alright?” 

It was Sam, you manage to turn to him and stutter out, “I‘m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He brings his hand up to your head and pulls you gently towards him for a much needed hug. “He’s not angry with you, he’s just scared. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I just wanted to do something for myself, I don’t want to have to rely on an Avenger everytime I want to go to the store.” 

“I know, he shouldn’t have gotten angry like that. I’m not making any excuses for him but he’s never felt love like he does for you. You and this baby are everything to him, he’s scared to lose you.” 

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet but Sam can just hear you.

“I know he will, he just needs some time to cool down.” You nod your head against Sam’s chest, part of you knew Bucky would forgive you but an even bigger part of you believed you had messed up too bad. 

You reach into your bag and take out the small white teddy you bought, when you read the words printed on its tiny outfit you start to cry harder. It read, “Best Dad Ever”, you just hoped Bucky would forgive you so you could give it to him. 

If you could go back to this morning and change your decision you would. You just want things back the way they were. 

[buckyalpine]

LMAOO OKAY IMAGINE 40s!BUCKY (like tfa stark expo version) MAGICALLY TELEPORTING TO MODERN DAY, and Sharon’s bitch ass is hanging all over him, flirting hardcore, and is absolutely thrilled bc he’s actually giving her some attention. BUT THEN HE SEES THE READER AND IS LIKE “oh wow who is THAT” and leaves her alone to go woo the gorgeous dame. I can picture her face getting all red and embarrassed and upset. And Sam and Nat and Tony are in the background giggling.

GOD I LOOOVEEE THISSSS 40's heart has my heart cause this blushing soldier would be such a perfect mix of devilishly handsome and adorably shy.

-

"Shit" Tony huffed watching his time portal experiment start up and fail for the fourth time in a row while Bruce continued to medal with the dials, resetting the machine once more. "Why does it keep doing that"

"Give it a secondary power source, there's not enough juice with the first one"

Tony nodded, rummaging through a pile of knick knacks on his desk, grabbing a vial and adding it to the generator.

"Alright, set the timer to 19:00 hours and 40 in the past. Let's see if we can just travel to yesterday first before messing with going back years" He snorted, as Bruce punched in the time before hitting the start up button. The machine started to rumble before growing hot, the dials and buttons spinning and clicking on its own, parts starting to pop off.

"Oh shit!" Tony ducked under the table, shielding himself from getting knocked out as the portal grew more powerful, a force filed growing, knocking down things around the lab.

"What the hell did you use as a power source?!" Bruce yelled over the high pitched whizz the machine started to make, blinding light filling the room before disappearing, leaving a cloud of smoke in its place.

"I don't know, I just grabbed something that look like it'd fit" Toy shrugged between coughs as the smoke dissipated, squinting when he realized the platform wasn't empty.

Someone was standing there.

"What the hell..."

Blinking with bright blue eyes was a young soldier, dressed in a fresh, clean and pressed uniform, looking like a lost puppy while Tony and Bruce blinked in both confusion and amusement.

"Banner what the hell did you do with the timer?!"

"You're vial set everything into over drive, it must've recalibrated to 1940 instead of a couple of hours ago!" Bruce threw his hands up while the younger version of Bucky stared at the lab with child like wonder, his eyes twinkling as if it were Christmas day.

"Holy shit..." He breathed out seeing the vast technology, his mind still reeling over what was happening. One minute, he was on his way to see Steve and take some girls dancing and next thing he knew, he was sucked through a loop.

"Dear God-alright, uh-Barnes?" Tony waved the soldier over, mentally debating on what to tell him.

"Mr. Stark? It's-it's an honor, sir" Bucky shook Tony's hand before standing tall before him with his back straight, ever the bright eyed Sargent. Tony scratched his head before letting him take a seat, figuring honesty was the best police.

"Sargent. This may take a while"

-

Bucky understood bits and pieces of what Tony explained to him while getting a tour of the compound, the common room being the last place for him to check out. The team alternated between greeting and secretly cooing over the adorable young Bucky while also simultaneously laughing at Tony. At the very least, the billionaire was lucky the actual Bucky was away on a mission with you and Steve; there was only so much he could handle in a day. The soldier decided to hang back in the living room with the others, happily chatting away with Sam and Nat.

Then there was Sharon

"Hey Soldier" She winked, giving him a smirk causing the young Bucky to blush, throwing her a flirty smile right back.

"Nice to meet ya' doll" Bucky drawled out making her giggle, his lip catching between his teeth when she flipped her hair back.

"Aren't you sweet" She whispered, her heart beating a little faster when he moved towards her, his sweet baby blues gazing down at her intently. She'd tried a million times to get Bucky's attention before and he didn't look at her twice. She wasn't about to lose her chance with the new one.

"Look whose talking" Bucky chuckled back, his naturally flirty nature taking over with ease, after all it would be rude for him to ignore her.

"Someone's gotta protect him from this randy she goat" Sam whispered while Nat snorted, watching the two of them continuing to flirt, Sharon's hands toying with the buttons on Bucky's uniform, making her way up to brush his collar.

There was no way she was going to just let the gorgeous soldier go.

The machine wasn't fixed any time soon so Bucky was given a room to stay in. He loved the feeling of modern day sweats, looking cute as ever in some comfy joggers and a cotton tshirt, his fluffy cropped hair always neatly brushed and face shaven.

He was a Sargent after all. He always looked his best, even in lounge clothing.

There hadn't been a day where Sharon left Bucky alone. She clung onto his side, practically crawling up his leg day in and day out while the others side eyed the situation, keeping an eye out for the innocent Bucky.

"So, what's a soldier like you doin' without a girl, hm?" Sharon teased, pressing her hand to his chest, loving the way Bucky flirted back with her while the both of them sat in the common room with a movie playing in the background. Tony, Nat and Sam glanced at each other, quietly watching from their place in the kitchen while the blonde continued to giggle and blush, running her finger's through his hair.

"How do you keep your hair so soft, Sargent"

"Well, I- woah"

Sharon frowned when the soldier stopped talking half way after something- or someone- caught his attention. His eyes grew wide, a classic boyish smile appearing on his face when he saw the prettiest dame he'd ever laid his eyes on walk by the living room, making his heart flutter.

"who was THAT" Bucky stared in awe, seeing her stretch her arms up, still in some type of modern tactical suit, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yet she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

"Uh-excuse me" Sharon's face twisted watching Bucky stare are you like a love struck puppy, nearly jumping over the sofa so he could run and talk to you. He didn't take his eyes off you, practically swooning when he saw you pack away the gun from you holster.

"Huh-yeah, sorry-" Bucky mumbled, still focused on you, unbothered by the way Sharon's face was now red with embarrassment, seething at what he was doing.

"Look at this guy, he's not even hiding the fact that he's staring at y/n" Sam snorted while Tony and Nat snickered, watching the young Bucky watch you with heart eyes, "Aw man, he's got it bad"

"Hey y/n, looks like someone's got a little crush on you" Nat whispered, discreetly nodding to the living room. You nearly squeaked in surprise, seeing a very very young version of your boyfriend sitting on the couch, taking peeks over at you whilst ignoring the blonde who was still fighting for his attention.

"Tony, you did this, didn't you" You sighed while Tony smiled proudly, now fully invested in how all this was going to play out.

"I'll explain later. Go wash and change and you can talk to him"

As soon as you were out of the kitchen, Bucky scrambled to the group, cheeks tinted pink, bashful as ever, looking at the three smirking faces, wiggling their eyebrows at him.

"See something you like, soldier?" Nat prodded while Bucky nearly giggled, nodding.

"Who was that" He asked in earnest, truly curious to at least get your name.

"That would be y/n. I'll introduce you once she's back down. You might be her type, y'know" Sam winked knowing damn well he was your type. After all you were technically already dating. Bucky bounced on his heels, waiting patiently while Sharon huffed, refusing to move from her spot on the couch. You made your way back down after a shower to see an exited Sam and a shy Bucky along with a smug Tony and Nat.

"Y/n, meet young Buck" Sam smiled while you held your hand out, swooning at the way he shook it gently, throwing you smile few got to see, one he had when he got butterflies in his belly.

"Nice to meet you Sarge"

"Pleasures all mine, angel" Bucky whispered, leading you off to the living room to talk to you more, offering you a seat, wondering if you wanted anything to snack on or drink, forgetting Sharon's existence entirely. Sharon nearly opened her mouth to say something, immediately shutting it with a satisfied smirk seeing the other Bucky walk in followed by Steve. Hopefully he'd see his girlfriend was a cheating whore, flirting with someone else even if it was him from the past. Her brain wracked itself in hopes that this would all crash and burn while Bucky frowned the closer he got.

"What the fuck Stark" Bucky scrunched his face walking in on some punk flirting with his girl, only to realize said punk was a younger version of him.

"Relax, I'll fuse you two together" Tony shrugged while Bucky's face twisted again, grumbling when his younger self kissed you hand again, pulling you up for a dance while fumbling with a phone he'd just managed to figure out.

"They're cute" Steve grinned, nudging Bucky playfully while Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling to himself a little while later when you caught his eyes, throwing him a wink. You laid your head against the young soldiers chest while he swayed with you, unaware that he was being watched by everyone else, in his own world with just you in it.

"You better fuse us together" Bucky hissed, narrowing his eyes when you giggled at something that was whispered in you ear; Tony snorted with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Why Barnes, scared of a little competition?"

Before Bucky could retort, Sharon was up and walking with purpose, stalking right towards Bucky.

"Y'know they're both flirting hard, right? Aren't you two dating?"

Bucky wordlessly stared at her while the others looked at her with confusion, the desperation becoming embarrassing.

"Sharon, shut up" Sam deadpanned while her mouth gaped open and shut before storming off.

"Back to what I was saying. Scared, Barnes?"

"You should be the scared one" Bucky sassed back, knowing exactly what his younger self was capable of; he knew that innocent boyish charm did wonders when it needed to. That being said, even his past self recognized real love, gravitating towards his one true soul mate after just seeing her once.

He watched the two of you continue to dance and whisper, the young soldier tipping your chin up, eyes flicking to your lips, his soft pouty pink lips so close to yours, leaning down so he could press a kiss so sweet-

"Alright that's it, punk get your hands off her!"

[waitimcomingtoo]

Bringing Sexy Back

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: Peter tries and fails to seduce you

Masterlist

To kick off the summer, Tony organized a group vacation to a resort at “one of his less crowded islands”, as he put it. The team sat together on the quinjet while Tony gave out the room assignments to everyone, ending with you and Peter.

“Parker and my beloved offspring, you’re in the penthouse suit with me. But don’t worry, you guys have your own room. It’s just connected to mine with thin walls and a door I can easily break down.” Tony said with a calm smile.

“Thanks, dad.” You smiled back at him before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. Once you were gone, Sam leaned over to him.

“Wow, I feel for you, man. You really got the short end of the stick.” Sam said and patted Peters back.

“Short? I’m 5’8. That’s average height.” Peter defended himself.

“For a woman.” Sam snorted. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Peter wondered.

“I mean you finally get to spend the night with your girlfriend and her dad is in the next room. That means the only way you’re getting laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait.” Sam replied, making everyone laugh at Peters's expense.

“Oh. That’s gotta hurt.” Bruce laughed. “It hurt me and it wasn’t even directed at me.”

“That’s called a ricochet.” Natasha said. “Also done by bullets and Taylor Swifts tears.”

“I understood that reference.” Steve chimed in.

“Did you?” Peter asked skeptically, making Steve’s smile fall.

“That’s the one that sings “Single Ladies”, right?” He whispered to Natasha.

“Uh huh.” Natasha smiled sarcastically.

“Are you gonna take that, Parker?” Bruce asked Peter. Peter noticed everyone was looking at him and blushed in embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that clever. Chickens don’t even lay eggs. Hens do. And we don’t do that so it doesn’t matter.” He mumbled. Everyone’s eyes widths they leaned forward in their seats.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asked for clarification. Peter looked around at all the peering eyes and shrunk down in his seat.

“Sex.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“You don’t do sex?” Sam laughed in surprise.

“Have we forgotten how to speak?” Natasha asked the crowd.

“Why are you guys all looking at me the way we looked at Bucky when he told us he didn’t wash his ass in the shower?” Peter asked.

“It honestly never crossed my mind.” Bucky shrugged.

“Hold on. How long have you guys been together?” Bruce asked Peter.

“Two months.”

“Two months? And you haven’t smushed yet?” Sam gasped.

“Ew. Smushed? There’s no actual smushing involved, right?” Peter forced a laugh. No one replied and his smile fell.

“Right?” He asked seriously.

“No offense kid, but that’s a long time to keep a lady waiting.” Steve said. “You two need to do a little bit of the old how’s yer father, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t. What the fuck does that mean?” Sam asked and pulled out his phone.

“Who are you to talk? Aren’t you a 1,000 year old virgin?” Peter deadpanned.

“100 years.” Steve corrected. “And yes. I am.”

“No he’s not.” Bucky said.

“I googled it. It was Steve’s old man way of saying putting some stank on it.” Sam read off his phone.

“Why haven’t you guys done it yet?” Natasha wondered. “It’s not like you just met. You’ve known her for years.”

“Yeah, but she’s only been my girlfriend for two months of those years. It’s a big transition. We’re waiting for the right moment.”

“So you’ve talked about it?” Steve asked him.

“Well, no.” Peter admitted. “I’m just assuming.”

“Assuming what exactly?” Natasha asked.

“That’s she’s waiting for the right moment to tell me she wants to do it. And then it’ll just happen then.” Peter shrugged.

“Hm.” Natasha said curtly. Peter noticed the look on everyone’s face and grew worried.

“What?” He laughed nervously.

“Nothing.” Steve shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“You can’t make that face and say “hm” and then not tell me.” Peter insisted.

“I think she’s ready.” Steve admitted. “I think she’s more than ready. You’re the one who’s not ready. That’s why you haven’t made a move yet.”

“She could’ve made a move.” Peter pointed out.

“No girl wants that.” Sam waved his hand. “They want their man to take charge and sweep them off their feet. You know, romance? Making her feel special?”

“She hates being lifted off her feet.” Peter insisted. “I picked her up once and she punched me in the throat and the bing bongs at the same time.”

“Hey, I taught her that move. I’m glad to see she’s using it.” Natasha smiled proudly.

“I have to agree with Sam on this one.” Steve said. “Girls like a romantic gesture. I’m not saying you have to literally sweep her off her feet, but make it clear that you want her. Or else she’s gonna start to feel under appreciated and unseen.”

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re waiting and that’s okay.” Peter insisted.

“She’s waiting. For you. To make a God damn move already.” Sam replied.

“And you know what happens if you wait too long?”

“What happens?” Peter gulped.

“She’ll find someone who’s ready now.” Sam shrugged.

“Well what am I supposed to do? How do I make her feel special?”

“She was your best friend before your girlfriend right?” Bruce asked him.

“Yeah.”

“So she should be the person you’re most comfortable with. Just make a move. She’ll make a move in return. That’s how it works.” Bruce explained.

“Just like that?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Just like that.” Sam confirmed. By the point, you were back from the bathroom and sitting in a seat by yourself. Peter graced himself before going over to sit beside you.

“Hey.” Peter smiled at you.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled back.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to come sit by my lady.” He said and wrapped an arm around you.

“Aw. You’re so cute.” You smiled and leaned into him.

“You’re cute. Are these new?” He asked and tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“New to me.” You shrugged. “I stole them from Pepper.”

“I like them. They look good on you.” He said as he looked into your eyes. You smiled at the compliment and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Peter blushed and looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was nodding his head to give him the go ahead. Peter nodded back before returning his attention to you. He went to put his hand on your thigh, but since the action was unnatural to him, he ended up grabbing your thigh so quickly and harshly that you jumped.

“Oh my God. What was that?” You gasped and pushed his hand off.

“Sorry. There was a spider on your leg.” Peter quickly lied.

“And you killed it? Isn’t that like…cannibalism?” You asked him.

“No.” Peter chuckled. “Wait. Oh my God. Is it?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “But thanks for killing it. I didn’t even feel it on my leg.”

“Hm. Weird.” Peter forced a laugh. He looked over at Sam again, who was shaking his head in disappointment.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” Peter thought to himself.

With Tony in the room right next store, Peter didn’t dare try anything while on the vacation. But once you returned to the tower a week later, it was game time.

“Peter? Are you in here?” You asked as you knocked on his bedroom door one day.

“One second, baby. I’m in the shower.” Peter called to you from the bathroom in his room.

“Okay. I’ll wait out here.” You shouted back and took a seat on his bed. Peter heard your response and thought back to what the team said about making a move. Before he could second guess himself, he called out again.

“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you join me?”

“What? I can’t hear you over the water.” You said as you walked over to the bathroom door so he could hear you better.

“I didn’t say anything.” He lied when he felt he had failed.

“Oh. It sounded like you did.” You laughed and leaned against his bathroom door.

“That was just the sound of my shampoo bottle falling.” Peter lied.

“Oh. Okay.” You answered skeptically. You were about to go back to his bed when you heard a loud thud.

“Peter? What was that? Did you shampoo fall again?” You opened the door a little to ask him.

“No. My body did.” Peter groaned from the shower floor.

“Oh no. Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He winced. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah, but…” Peter began but trailed off.

“But what?” You asked.

“I’m nakey.” He said in a little voice.

“I’ll close my eyes, okay?” You laughed.

“You don’t have to. I just wanted to warn you that you’re about to see the biggest penis you’ve ever seen.” Peter said seriously, making you laugh again.

“Oh really? Is Thor in there?” You asked.

“That was hurtful.”

“You’re such an idiot. I’m coming in, okay? Hide your massive penis.” You warned as you entered the bathroom.

“I’ll try. But it won’t be easy.” Peter sighed. You opened the shower door with your elbow while covering your eyes with both hands.

“I’m here. Can you see me?” You asked him.

“Why would o not be able to see you? You’re the one with your eyes covered.”

“Oh. Right. Where are you?”

“The floor. Because I fell. That’s typically where people end up after they fall.”

“I should just leave you here to drown.” You said and turned to leave.

“Wait, come back. Please.” Peter whined. “They’ll never find a casket big enough to hold my massive schlong.”

“I hate you so much.” You laughed and came back. You bent down and helped him off the floor but grabbing his arm.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped his arm.

“What?”

“You’re wet.” You grimaced.

“I’m in the shower.” He reminded you.

“I don’t know why but I wasn’t expecting you to be wet. Put my hand on the knob. I’ll turn it off.” You told him. Peter took your hand and guided it to the knob while you kept your eyes tightly shut. You heard the sound of the water turning off and Peter sighing in relief.

“There we go. Much better.” He said.

“Okay. I’m gonna pick you up now.” You told him and bent down to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Ah!” He screamed.

“What?”

“That tickles.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “Where’s your robe?”

“Hanging on the back of the door.” He told you. You kept your eyes shut but walked over to the door and felt around until you found his robe.

“Okay. I found it.”

“Throw it at me.” Peter said. You threw it outwards and it smacked him in the face. “You got it?”

“Yes. Ow.” Peter huffed as he put it on.

“Sorry.” You grimaced.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

“Okay.” You said but didn’t open them.

“Baby. You open them.” Peter laughed.

“Sorry. I got scared.” You admitted as you opened your eyes.

“Of what?” Peter gulped, thinking you were scared to see him naked.

“Of seeing you on the shower floor and getting the biggest ick of my entire life.” You replied, making Peter laugh in relief.

“Fair enough.”

“Come on, little guy. I gotcha.” You bent down and helped him up with ease now that you could see.

“What did we say about calling me “little guy”?” Peter reminded you.

“That it’s funny and hilarious?” You asked innocently as you helped lead him out of the bathroom.

“Those are synonyms.”

“What about cinnamon?”

“What?”

“What?” You asked in reply. He shook his head endearingly as you walked him over to his bed.

“Okay. We’re here. Sit down.” You said and helped him into his bed.

“Well that was fun. And wet.” Peter said as he combed his wet hair out of his face with his fingers.

“You’re telling me.” You said and showed him your now soaking wet shirt.

“Sorry about that. You can grab a shirt from my closet.” He told you.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him before going over to his closet. You pulled out a T shirt and we’re about to put it on when you felt his eyes on you. You looked over your shoulder at him and he turned red.

“I’ll close my eyes.” Peter offered.

“It’s okay. You can watch. I don’t mind.” You smiled innocently at him before turning back around. Peter gulped as you pulled your shirt off and stayed perfectly silent. He could see your bra band when your hair moved and though it wasn’t much, it was as naked as he had ever seen you. You’d never been in so much as bathing suits around the other so this showing of skin was both unexpected but highly anticipated. Peter watched you pull his shirt over your head and fix your hair before turning back around.

“Better?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Better.” You nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew about the conversation he had had with the team. It wasn’t like you to get changed in front of him so maybe you weren’t trying to make a move as well.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” You asked as you sat on Peters bed.

“Not bad. I think it’s already healing.” He said and moved his robe to look at it.

“Good. You need it to climb walls and shoot webs out of your butt and stuff.”

“I have told you so many times.” Peter sighed. “The webs do not come out of my butt.”

“There is no doubt in my mind that you’re lying and just won’t show me. And that’s fine.” You shrugged.

“You’re ridiculous.” He laughed and took your hand.

“Yeah. Maybe a little.” You chuckled and played with his fingers. A comfortable silence filled the room as Peter started to form a plan in his head.

“So.” He laughed nervously. “Here we are. In my room. Alone.”

“I know. It’s nice.”

“You think so?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah. It’s so rare we get time when no one else is around. It can finally just be the two of us.” You said and reached out to brush some hair off his forehead. Peter felt his whole face flush and scooted a little closer to you.

“I’ve actually been hoping we’d get some alone time.” He told you.

“Me too.” You smiled coyly and leaned in a little.

“Did you have anything in mind you want to do?” He asked and leaned in as well.

“I could think of a few things.” You flirted.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“For starters, you’ll have to lose this robe.” You said and ran your hand along the collar of his robe. Peter gulped as you got up and went back over to his closet.

“Done.” Peter nodded as he frantically started to undo the belt of his robe.

“And put this on.” You said as you tossed him some pajamas.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl. Wait, what? What’s this?” Peters smile fell when the pajamas fell into his lap.

“Pajamas. So you can get comfy and we can finally watch New Girl before it leaves Netflix.” You told him.

“Oh. Right. Pajamas. I’ll just put these on.” Peter tried to mask the disappointment in his voice as he tugged his shirt over his head. By the time you were snuggled into his side with your head on his shoulder, his disappointment was gone. He had gotten so caught up in what the team had said that he forgot to appreciate the little moments with you. He let it go for tonight and just enjoyed spending time together.

The next day, he was back on his bullshit. He found you in the kitchen with your back to him as you flipped through a magazine. Peter and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your shoulder to let you know he meant business.

“Hey you.” He said as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

“You’re so sweet lately. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I just really like you.” He replied and kissed your shoulder again. He decided to make a move and tilted his chin a little higher so he could kiss your neck.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as you flipped a page of your magazine. Peter immediately perked up and turned you around, thinking his plan had worked.

“What was that?” He gulped as his face burned bright red.

“Sorry. Paper cut.” You said and held up your bleeding finger. Peter took a split second to realized you were cursing, not requesting, before jumping into action.

“Here. Let me help.” He said and gently took your finger. He walked to the bathroom with you and turned on the faucet. He was about to put in under the water when he got a different idea. He looked you right in the eyes as he took your finger into his mouth and sucked the blood off of it. You watched him as he did this and gulped a little.

“Peter?” You asked in a soft voice. A hope sparked in Peter’s chest that he had successfully made a move.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea how many germs you just put in my open wound?” You said, making all Peters hope disappear.

“Oh. Sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment and held your finger under the running water.

“Why did you turn the water on and then suck it instead?” You asked him. Peter thought about lying, but knew it was no use.

“I…I thought it would be sexy.” He admitted.

“You thought sucking my paper cut would be sexy? Okay, Edward.” You snorted as you got a bandaid out of the cabinet for yourself.

“Edward? Who’s that?” Peter felt a hot flash of jealousy over the mention of another boys name. He normally wouldn’t have that reaction, but he was extra sensitive after what Steve said about you finding someone else.

“The vampire from Twilight. Relax.” You laughed in surprise.

“Oh. Right.” He smiled in embarrassment.

“Peter Parker. Were you jealous at the mere drop of another boys name?” You playfully gasped.

“Is that bad?” Peter asked as he helped put a bandaid on your finger.

“I don’t think it’s bad.” You shrugged. “I think it’s kinda hot that you’re the jealous type. As long as you don’t get all possessive on me.”

“I won’t. I’ve seen enough white women with “love her but leave her wild” tattooed on them to know better.” Peter replied, making you laugh.

“Well that’s good to hear. And for what it’s worth, you’ve proven to be a lovely boyfriend so far. I’ve really enjoyed these past few months.”

“So have I.” Peter smiled softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss to let him know all was forgiven.

“So why were you trying to be sexy before?” You asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I was just trying to make a move.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Make a move? Why would you need to do that?” You laughed. Peter could barely conceal the disappointment that he felt from your response. It seemed like the number one thing on his mind right now was the last thing on yours.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He faked a smile. You took his face in your hands and made him look at you.

“Petey, if you want me, just take me.” You said like it was obvious.

So he took you.

Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you with ease as he kissed you. You anchored your arms around his neck so that you wouldn’t slide off as he carried you to his room. Peter laid you down on his bed without ever breaking the kiss. Both of you could feel the electricity in the air and knew something big was about to happen. But before you could get too far, the door opened.

“Hey guys - stop screaming, it’s me.” Sam held up a hand when he was met with screams from you and Peter.

“We know it’s you. What do you want?” Peter groaned.

“Nothing. I’m just bored.” Sam shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich in his hand. You and Peter stared at him in disbelief of his inability to read a room while he noisily chewed his food.

“So what are you guys up to?” He asked and pointed between the two of you.

“Take a wild guess.” You said sarcastically.

“I would tell you what I think is happening.” Thor chuckled. “But I know that’s not the case since you two don’t-“

“Sam.” Peter cut him off.

“Did I say too much? Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” Sam winked at Peter before leaving the room. The silence between you was uncomfortable as you struggled to know what to say.

“What was he about to say?” You asked an after a minute.

“I have no idea.” Peter lied. You looked at him and he knew he was caught.

“Don’t lie to me. Was he gonna say we don’t hook up?”

“Yeah. He was.” He admitted.

“You told him that?” You asked and got off his bed to put some distance between you.

“No. I would never.” He assured you. “It came up on the plane the other day. They were teasing me about you and it just kinda came out that we haven’t…you know.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nodded but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“I’m sorry. I know you like to be private.”

“It’s not your fault. I just worried that you had been complaining to them that we don’t…” You trailed off and Peter realized why you were upset.

“Honey. Never.” He assured you as he took your hand and gave it a squeeze. This seemed to ease your mind and you sat back down on his bed.

“Okay. Good.” You smiled in relief. Peter avoided looking at you as he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Does it bother you? That we haven’t done it yet?” He asked as a deep blush spread across his face.

“Well,-“ You began.

“Do you guys know the Hulu password?” Sam asked as he opened Peters door again.

“Get out!” Peter shouted and threw a pillow at him.

“I’m trying to watch Bridesmaids. Please.” Sam whined. “I’m desperate. They just added it back on there.”

“Oh my God.“ Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes, knowing the moment had lost.

“Go ask my dad or something.” You huffed.

“You guys suck. Not you, Y/n. Clearly.” Sam laughed at his own joke and left the room again. A awkward silence filled the room again and Peter felt like the worst person in the world. He knew it bothered you that he had told the team something personal and even worse, he could feel your disappointment in him.

“I’m gonna go.” You said to break the silence. You got off the bed and Peter felt you quickly slipping out of his hands.

“Wait! Don’t leave.” He pleaded.

“I have to go move my car.” You said hastily.

“Can we please talk about this?”

“I have to go move my car!” You exclaimed and swiftly left the room.

“I know you don’t have to do that!” He called after you. “We’ve watched New Girl together. I know you got that from Nick Miller.”

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and flopped on his bed. He wasn’t alone for long before Pepper and Thor knocked on his door.

“Hey, kiddo.” Pepper said kindly.

“Woah. Weird combo. Have you two ever interacted before?” Peter asked and pointed between the two of them. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No.” They said in unison.

“So what were you doing outside my door?”

“Not that we were listening to your entire conversation, but we were. And you guys need to talk about this.” Pepper said as she sat on Peters bed.

“We tried.” Peter sighed. “Sam kept interrupting.”

“But even before he interrupted, you weren’t really getting anywhere, were you?” Pepper asked kindly.

“What do you mean?”

“Neither of you could even say the word “sex”. How do you expect to do it if you can’t even say it?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about that.” Peter realized.

“You need to have a mature conversation with her about this. That’s the only way to know how she’s feeling and to let her know what you’re feeling.” Pepper said and patted Peters knee.

“Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“Or.” Thor began, getting Peter’s attention.

“Or? There’s another option?” Peter perked up.

“Yes. Here’s what you do. You seduce her. No words, only passion.”

“I’m listening.” Peter leaned in.

“You spray yourself with a sexy body spray. You put some sexy sheets on your bed. You lure her to your bedroom. You play a sexy song. You dim the lights because bad lighting is sexy. You light some sexy candles. You make the setting so irresistible that you won’t need words. She’ll know exactly what’s about to happen.” Thor told him.

“I think that’s a solid plan.” Peter nodded along.

“That’s a horrible plan.” Pepper exclaimed. “That is the dumbest plan I have ever heard. You clearly need to talk to her.”

“How sexy of a song are we talking here?” Peter ignored her.

“The sexiest. But don’t confuse that with raunchy. She’s not gonna get in the mood if she walks in to some degrading song. You need to pick the perfect playlist that does all the talking for you.” Thor told him.

“Or, you could do the talking for you.” Pepper suggested.

“No. I’m gonna go with Thors idea.” Peter decided.

“Huzzah!” Thor raised his arms in triumph.

“Huzzah? How come sometimes you soudn completly normal and sometimes you sound like a World of Warcraft character?” Peter asked him.

“I’m not familiar with this World of Warcraft. But if I had fought in it, I would’ve won.” Thor smiled proudly.

“Thanks for the advice guys. I know what im gonna do.”

The next day, the plan was in action. Peter found some red silk sheets from a box in Tony’s room labeled “my bachelor era” and put them on his bed. He doused himself with a cologne he borrowed from Bruce before taking off his shirt and rubbing baby oil all over his chest, leaving him in just his black boxers. He looked at himself in the mirror and flexed his muscles.

“Perfect.” He decided. Now it was time to lure you in, just like Thor told him.

“FRIDAY, play Careless Whisper. George Michael.” Peter requested.

“Playing Careless Whisper.” FRIDAY said and the song began to blast from the speakers.

“Thank you. Now dim the lights.”

“Dimming, sir.” FRIDAY complied.

“Time to lure.” Peter smiled wickedly. He pulled out his phone and tried to text you but his fingers were too slippery from the baby oil.

“Damn it. FRIDAY, text Y/n stark and tell her to meet me in my room. And say it’s urgent.”

“Texting Tony and Y/n Stark.” FRIDAY, replied, but the music was too loud for Peter to hear it.

“The trap is set. Now we wait.” Peter excitedly rubbed his hands together and turned around. It wasn’t long before he heard his door opening behind him.

“Peter? Are you in here?” He heard your voice and slowly turned around.

“Well hello - TONY?! I mean, Mr. Stark? What, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laugh nervously and covered his crotch with his hands. You looked at his piled up body and boxers and slapped both hands over your mouth to stifle your laugh. Once you realized what song was playing, you had to turn around so your dad didn’t see you losing it.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Are you covered in sunblock?” Tony asked him.

“No. It’s baby oil.” Peter sheepishly admitted.

“Was that supposed to make this less weird?” Tony asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why is he here?” Peter whined and looked at you.

“You texted both of us and said it was urgent. I thought you fell im the shower again.” You explained as you struggled to make eye contact because of how distracting his shiny abs were.

“Again? Peter, can’t you stick to walls? How did you fall in the shower?” Tony wondered.

“I slipped, okay? I’m only human. And a little bit spider.” Peter mumbled.

“Wait a second.” Tony held up a finger when he took in his surroundings.

“Sexy music.” Tony gasped and pointed to the speaker.

“Candles.” He gasped louder and pointed to the candles.

“Baby oil.” He gasped even louder and pointed to Peter. He then walked over to Peter’s dresser and let out the loudest gasp of all.

“Pack of extra small condoms?” He gasped and put his hand over his heart. He then looked at Peter with the rage of a thousand men. Peter looked at you, who looked like a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and fondness.

“Um, it’s not what it looks like?” Peter said weakly. Tony threw the box of condoms at him and it stuck to Peters oiled chest.

“I knew it! You derelict. You ne’re-do-well. You scallawag. You were gonna try to sex my daughter, weren’t you?”

“Can that word be used in that way?” You wondered out loud.

“No. It’s not a verb. Your form was incorrect.” Peter told Tony, immediately regretting it.

“How’s this for form?” Tony asked and raised both his fists as if he was about to mollywhop Peter. You quickly stepped between them and held up a hand.

“Dad. Stop. You’re not gonna fight Peter. You’re obviously misreading things. There’s no way he brought me in here for that. Right, Peter?”

“Uhhh….” Peter trailed off and smiled weakly. Your jaw dropped for a second, but then you looked really pleased. Tony saw the look on your face and let out a loud, elongated groan.

“Goodbye. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go rinse my eyes out with drain cleaner.” Tony stared at you both in disgust as he walked out.

“Dad. You’re embarrassing me.” You whined.

“FRIDAY, add baby oil to the shopping list. Somebody used it all.” Tony called out as he left the room.

Once you were alone, you and Peter looked at each other and laughed in embarrassment.

“Did you really do all this for me?” You asked and rubbed his oiled up shoulder.

“I did. And it was incredibly stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because I wanted our first time to be special. You deserve special.” Peter sighed. You pouted and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Aw, Peter.”

“I know. It was dumb.” He sighed.

“It wasn’t dumb. I think it was really sweet.” You assured him. “Just executed in a kind of terrifying way. The song is so loud that it’s rattling my bones and you look like uncooked chicken.”

“Yeah. This was Thors idea.” Peter laughed in embarrassment and looked down at his shiny body.

“Well it’s not the worst sight in the world.” You shrugged and ran your fingertips down his chest. Peter gulped and looked at you, feeling that electricity return.

“FRIDAY, stop playing the song.” You called out without ever taking your eyes off Peter. He got the hint and shot a web at the door to shut it before going to blow out the candles.

“Wait.” You held out your hand, stopping Peter.

“Leave the candles.” You told him.

“Okay. But why?”

“Well, it’s our first time, isn’t it?” You smiled coyly. “It should be special.”

Peter liked where your head was at but couldn’t go through with it without telling you the whole truth.

“They’re M&M scented candles that I stole from Morgans playroom.” He admitted. You stared at him for a long time before nodding your head.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking before I change my mind, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded excitedly and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed him back and felt the same electricity that was coursing through his veins. Peter laid you down on his bed without breaking the kiss and you felt the red silk sheets he had put on under your skin.

“These sheets are a nice touch.” You flirted in between kisses.

“Only the best for you, baby. I took them from your dad.”

With the mention of your father, you immediately pushed Peter off and felt your entire body cringe. He had once again successfully ruined the moment.

“That’s it. I’m done.” You held uo your hands in defeat and left his room.

“Wait!” Peter called after you. “I cleaned them! I swear!”

Tag List 🏷️

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[junicult]

!! the bachelors as fathers

contains ; sfw! sooo much fluff. fem!farmer. unnamed child. established relationships — marriage. your child is implied to be around kindergarten age. men that are good w kids hehehe. not proofread / slightly rushed in some parts. i’ll edit it later LOL.

note ; i get asks on this topic at least twice a week. i’m finally caving. here’s my birthday gift to you <3

harvey.

- he was honestly made to be a father.

- despite his taller stature, there was something about him that felt so comforting.

- if a child had walked up to him all alone, sobbing with snot down their nose, he didn’t hesitate to kneel and help them find their parent.

- soothing them, grabbing their hand and asking questions to calm them down.

- no, it wasn’t a daily occurrence but it’s definitely happened to him a couple times. and each and every time he was able to help them relax, and easily reunited them with whomever their guardian was.

- he’s good with kids. always has been.

- he probably even had a babysitting job every now and then when he was younger.

- there’s was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to have his own when he grew up. and when you just so happened to stumble into his life, marrying him with the same ideals…well.

- you obviously knew he wanted kids before you got married.

- and when you realized you wanted him to be the father of your child; was another one of those instances where you got to see just how good he was with them.

- hearing how sweet he’s always been to vincent during his doctor visits, especially when the boy was younger.

- he’s a girl dad. say what you will, but he is.

- he’ll sit at the unbelievably tiny table, cramped in the tiny chair with his knees up to his chest while he tips back the empty teacup and his pinky in the air.

- he’ll even wear the tiara.

- zero complaints.

- you and his daughter would literally be the most important things in the entire world to him. he’d do anything for you two.

- like…ugh. oh my god.

- sometimes you’d come home late, and you’d walk down the hall to hear his gentle voice animatedly in your daughters dark bedroom.

- and you’d peek in, and there he was sitting at the end of her bed, quietly reading while she sleepily listens all tucked in.

- or even times when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, confused.

- so you’d walk out to go find him, having no clue where the hell he was so you check your daughters bedroom,

- and well, there he is. long ass limbs tucked and haphazardly strewn about to make room for your daughter who lays next to him sleeping peacefully in her toddler bed.

- he’s not asleep (obviously), but he lays with his eyes closed until you gently creak the floorboard.

- “she had a nightmare.” is all he says, and it’s enough to make you smile.

- even though he’s already so health conscious…it only grows after you have a child.

- “did you brush your teeth? make sure to get the gums.” “a balanced breakfast is the perfect way to start the day!” he sounds like a elementary classroom poster.

- the minute someone in the house sniffles…he’s checking everyone’s temperature.

- during the winter, he’s at the door wrapping your daughter in multiple puffy coats, scarves, earmuffs, gloves, before letting her step outside.

- you’re not off the hook either, but you never bundle up the way he wishes you would.

- “why doesn’t mommy have to wear this?” she pouts while he’s helping her in her thick boots.

- “why don’t you ask her that?😊” (he’s instigating.)

- i’m telling you, girl dad.

sam.

- his own kids weren’t on his radar when you guys first started dating.

- but he’s always liked them. especially when vincent was born.

- he was that lowkey irresponsible but very responsible older brother.

- like, he’d be in his teens telling his very impressionable younger brother to say bad words and then would act shocked when he got in trouble for saying them.

- but when it came to being the oldest man in the house while their dad was away, he really showed maturity in helping jodi and being there for them.

- and while you both established a committed relationship, that one day you’d want to be married and have kids—he idealized it a bit more.

- but then again, it was still one of those things you both needed to really think and talk about before you even acted on it, especially since you got married young.

- lol i feel like jodi or marnie forced u guys to watch jas and vincent for a weekend once.

- and after how well it went, that was kinda when it clicked that you guys were ready.

- he’s both a girl dad and a boy dad.

- he’d literally jump for joy for either outcomes. he was just excited to finally be a dad after years of daydreaming of it.

- as much as i don’t wanna say it, i still feel like he’d be much better at the fun stuff then the parenting stuff.

- i just think it’s bc he thinks with his heart more then his head, and when his child is sad and pouting, he’s too sympathetic to hold his ground.

- he wouldn’t leave it all for you to do, but he’d definitely be worse at scolding if you aren’t by his side.

- like, she colored all over the walls or something. his initial reaction would be to freak out and find a way to clean it before you’d find out (he doesn’t wanna add more work to your busy day), but then he’d scold.

- “no, don’t do that. wall, bad. paper, good. understand? nod if you understand,” …well he’s trying.

- then you’d come home to see him scrubbing the walls while your child blissfully doodles in her coloring book on the floor beside him.

- if he had a son, he’d have a little bit of practice from those few years where he babysat vince.

- lol, there’s a lot of features your son would inherit between the two of you.

- but personality wise…your son is definitely a mini-sam.

- and imagine one day, it’s the early stages of spring so sam’s typical allergies start to act up.

- you’ve always known how to handle him when he gets really sick. but picture your red-nosed, leaky-eyed husband standing behind you while you rummage through the medicine cabinet,

- and all of a sudden you hear a familiar sniffle from down the hall.

- you just freeze, slowly turning to face sam who’s making the same face that you are. until he starts to laugh.

- yeah. so now here you are, both of your boys snuggled in bed with the same sickly look, mumbling about how grateful they are that you’re there to care for them.

- and here’s the thing. if your son is sam’s mini-me…then i can assure you you’re stuck with two of the clingiest boys by your side.

shane.

- he never really thought he’d get a loving, happy family of his own.

- but he definitely daydreamed of it in times when he really just wanted an escape.

- he was always the best with jas.

- he doesn’t necessarily treat her like his daughter. but it’s not like she gives him any reason to.

- he doesn’t treat her like a child, per say. just kind of like another person. probably bc of their trauma bond lol

- he cares for her like an older brother cares for his little sister.

- so even though he has jas in his life, someone he cares for so strongly, he still doesn’t think of himself as being a good father.

- when he met you though, and you were so reassuring and sweet, that thought definitely changed.

- it went from him seeing a life alone, to pondering a family of his own.

- when he finally had the motivation to clean himself up, it approached a couple years since he’s been sober and it was definitely in the forefront of his mind to start a family with you.

- i also think of him as a girl dad. i can’t picture him as a boy dad at all not even gonna lie 😭

- like he’d be the kind of dad that would dress as the supporting character in your daughter’s favorite movie for halloween (spirits eve wtvr)

- also the kind of dad that’d join in on tea parties as well, just with the most plain look on his face despite him not minding being there.

- also…let me tell you there would be a whole inside joke swear jar thing in ur house.

- when your daughter was old enough to decipher what words were “good” and “bad,” the swear jar became very important.

- i think it started when you were pregnant.

- “ah fuck, i think i cooked this wrong. damnit.” he’d mumble.

- “we should probably stop saying those before the baby comes.” you hum, and he looks at you all confused.

- “saying what?” bc they’re in his daily vocabulary to the point where he forgets they’re “inappropriate.”

- so there came the swear jar. and every now and then it’d be a little inside joke when he swore, you’d look at him like, “drop a dollar in the jar😁”

- and when you’d say one, he was so petty matching your exact tone and smile.

- your daughter just grew up with it. it became an even bigger inside joke when you were all sitting at the kitchen table one night, he leans in to take a bite of food and, “shit! that’s hot.”

- before you even said anything your daughter smiles exactly like you would, “that’s a dollar in the swear jar, daddy.”

- ur both STUNNED. and also very proud in a sense.

- you just burst out laughing while he tries to think of a counter, but really, he’s too amused to even say anything back (thus drops a dollar in the jar!)

- 😓😓he’d be the sweetest when it came to his daughter all sad about something.

- no matter what it was. even if she as much as scrapes her knee, he would be so affectionate.

- he’s not the “walk it off” kind of dad.

- if she came to him sobbing, he’d immediately calm her down by picking her up and propping her on the couch, searching for the stuff you use for wounds in the cabinets.

- “it’s okay, you’re okay. it was just a little scrape, you won’t even feel it tomorrow.”

- and he’s wiping her tears, pressing a kiss to her forehead before going into the freezer and getting her ice cream (before dinner😨) saying, “don’t tell mommy, okay?”

- although you try finish up work early enough to tuck your daughter in bed, sometimes you end up running late.

- so uh…shane sometimes forgets to put her to bed, and of course she’s not gonna say anything!!! bedtime is a child’s worst nightmare!

- and usually when that happens, you’d end up coming home to the sight of the two of them, knocked out sharing the same blanket on the couch, cuddled up together while the tv’s still on.

- and when that happens, well, you find it a little hard to take that sight away.

sebastian.

- girl dad. sorry i just had to start with it.

- maybe i could see him with a son, but honestly…no i can’t.

- but i’m not gonna lie to you,

- for a while i feel like he didn’t want kids. not really at least.

- he’d think about them and it was always a nice idea, until he really thought about it and all the mess that babies come with lol.

- plus at the point in his life when you two met, he just wasn’t ready. for a while at least.

- when you talked about it, the topic of children was only on the table. you knew you wanted them, just not yet.

- it took a good handful of years before you actively started trying.

- even though he was prepared during your pregnancy, i feel like it didn’t hit him he was a father until after ur baby was born.

- he fell in love. swear.

- like…that tiny, wrinkly little lump was his. he helped make that. and not only was it his but it was also the woman he loves’.

- it took him a while to get into the system of it all when it came to caring for the baby. i’m talking changing diapers, feeding, burping, things like that.

- but when he was left alone with her, he was kinda in his own little world. he could hold her all day and never get tired.

- and that was a concept so crazy to him bc he didn’t get that kind of love from a father growing up.

- which is exactly why i feel like he’d actually be such a great dad.

- he could be stern when he needed to be, but never strict.

- “eat your greens,” kinda dad LMAO. especially if you were the one to make them.

- when she’d come up to him with the messiest doodle of your little family on a piece of paper, he’d think of it as a masterpiece.

- he’s not very expressive tho LOL like he’d look at the drawing and only smile, a little “thank you,” in a sweet tone.

- that’s just how he is lol. on the inside he’s sobbing.

- it would always end up on the fridge.

- he spends a lot of time at home.

- which results in a lot of time he spends with your daughter, even while he’s doing his own thing on his computer working.

- but nearly every day he was greeted with a, “daddy, can we go somewhere? what’s mommy doing?” and depending on where you were, he’d help get her shoes on and take her out on a walk to go find you.

- she got her outdoorsy side from you, that’s for sure. but because she needs a guardian, he’s gotten much more used to being outside.

- it was often you’d be working on your crops outside, wiping sweat from your forehead & turn around to your daughter eagerly wanting to help.

- now, this is not to say that your relationship w sebastian was poor before you had your daughter, i’m not saying that at all,

- but because of her adventurous personality, and clinginess to the both of you—your bond grew even more.

- “she wanted to see you.” he’d sheepishly smile, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead while you both turn and watch her feed the chickens.

- “didn’t you have that website to finish?”

- “…okay i wanted to see you too.”

alex.

- absolutely wanted a family. holy shit there’s zero doubt in my mind.

- he’s kinda wanted a more traditional household, probably based on the ideals he grew up with.

- but he absolutely didn’t mind you being the breadwinner. he honestly enjoyed it much more.

- he’d spend hours daydreaming about living on the farm with you. carrying one child on his shoulders and holding the other’s hand while guiding them around the town’s fair.

- and lowkey, i feel like one of his favorite topics of conversation was discussing how your children would be raised lol

- talking in bed at night like, “i think our son would be a gridball fan. maybe even grow up to be a player himself.” while he sighs longingly.

- which also ties into me believe he’s a boy dad. you know he is.

- i definitely feel like he’d have a boy and a girl. it’s his dream.

- he’d be fine with two boys or two girls but when he daydreamed about his future, it was always you, your son & your daughter.

- it’s just once again the traditional picture of a household and even though i don’t really think he’s that old fashioned after he met you, i still believe he’d want 2 kids.

- he would seriously daydream it all the time. the months of your pregnancy, when you found out it was a boy he really saw his future fitting like a puzzle piece.

- after a couple years, your son (who may i add was literally his mini-me) got a bit older, you both discussed it was time for another.

- and when you found out it was a girl…god. i definitely think he cried, disagree all you want.

- he’s such a caring dad. i believe he wants the best for his children, and he knows what it was like to be neglected so i can never imagine him being like that.

- first of all, you already know every single day of the summer he’s bringing them down to the beach.

- packing a bag, (that takes him halfway through the day before he realized he forgot towels) propping up beach chairs & an umbrella for shade.

- he’s never opposed to a good sand castle. especially when he remembers to bring the little molds that help with the foundation.

- kneels in the shallow end, standing close to his kids when they want to swim.

- and he’s always a fan of recapping it with you at the end of the day.

- “tell mommy what you found at the beach,” he ushers, bouncing your daughter on his hip while your son eagerly begins.

- i feel like after having children, not only is he a good dad, but he becomes an even better husband to you.

- he just loves how hard you work for him and your family, so you can bet on mother’s day, or your birthday, he’ll be all about making it special for you.

- all of them wake up earlier then you, making breakfast (well, watching him make breakfast) before they put it all on a plate and deliver it to you in bed.

- ur the kind of parents that other parents are jealous of, y’know?

- he’s just so in love with you, and the kids you made. it makes him love you even more.

elliott.

- he’s always wanted kids. he would find himself daydreaming, even when he was in his early twenties, about one day raising a child with the person he loves.

- when he met you was the start of his writing career.

- at that point, it was a little underwhelming, which was the perfect opportunity to get start a relationship with you.

- you were both fairly busy, but the thing about his job was he could lounge in your cottage while you were off working,

- and when you were able to spare a few minutes, you could stop in and see him.

- while your relationship progressed, you began the discussion of getting married and having children one day.

- it just so happened to be right when his career was taking off when you finally settled into your lives together.

- which postponed trying for a little while, but eventually you were able to.

- lol, i’m gonna say it;

- without a DOUBT a girl dad.

- oh my god he would daydream of having a little you running around, tuft red hair with your sweet smile.

- and with how melodramatic he is, imagine that projected onto your daughter LMAO.

- if you couldn’t find him in his typical writing room sometimes, all u had to do was walk to your daughters room where he propped up his own little desk.

- just so he could be near her.

- he also is just entranced at all times, he loves holding her, just looking at her.

- he’s extremely helpful.

- for the most part, he was always immediate to react if your newborn needed something. the second she’s cry, he was up on his feet telling you to stay put.

- he’s just very understanding with how busy you are, and he never minded spending more time with his daughter.

- if it was the middle of the night, and she needed something, he’d always shake his head to you pushing off your blankets, whispering, “i got it, my love. go back to sleep, i’m sure she’s fine.”

- especially on days where he knows you’re particularly stressed, he’s not letting you lift a finger.

- anyways, it carried on when your daughter got older, too.

- she’d walk in all, “mommy, i threw up,” & he was on his feet to help before you even registered what happened.

- he’s just always been fantastic help.

- one of his favorite things to do is read to her.

- similar to harvey, except ten times more.

- he’s acting out each part, using different voices for different characters, making a grand show of it all just to hear his daughter giggle.

- it’s become a habit every night, and since you’re typically busy most evenings, it’s often you’ll come in to find him mid-storytelling.

- even if you intend on reading to her, you always end up stopping to let him finish. he’s so entertaining with it that even you’re interested in this plot line for 2 year olds.

- he’ll never skip this routine.

- and when he kisses her goodnight, he tucks her in, pushes her hair from her forehead and bends down to plant a soft kiss.

- “goodnight, sweetheart. sweet dreams.” he always says.

- he’s gentle with you, he’s even gentler with her.