#she might try to make small talk with you!!!!

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 13 - halloween part 2

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

the party was in full swing, the house covered head to toe in decorations and people all out in costumes.

you and the girls walked in arms linked, but your eyes scanned the room casually. as if you weren't immediately looking for rafe.

you spotted topper first, wearing a half arsed firefighter costume and a beer in hand. kelce was nearby, laughing with some zeta girls, dressed in a vampire outfit.

and then, by the kitchen, rafe.

wearing a ghostface costume, you almost couldn't contain yourself. he looked good. too good.

your stomach twisted.

he hadn’t seen you yet. maybe it was better that way.

you turned back toward your friends, trying to melt into the crowd, but then-

"y/n?"

his voice, behind you.

you froze, then turned slowly.

and there he was, standing a few feet away from the dance floor, tongue wetting his lips as his eyes swept over you.

"holy shit," rafe muttered. "you look…"

you raised an eyebrow, "careful. your wife might get jealous."

he didn’t laugh. not really. just took a slow step closer.

"she’s not my-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "you look amazing."

"and you're ghostface. how original." you teased him.

"what, you don't like it?" he clutched his chest in fake offence, but you only rolled your eyes.

a relaxed silence fell between you two, in which you noticed the rest of the girls had left you alone with rafe. bitches you thought to yourself.

"can i get you a drink?" he asked sincerely.

"depends what you're going to get me."

"whatever you want sunshine."

"a rum and coke please mr ghostface." you replied, a small blush rising on your cheeks.

"coming right up.' he gave your shoulder a small squeeze as if to say 'stay right here' and disappeared further into the kitchen to make your drink.

as you pulled out a bar stall, a topless policeman came up behind you.

"looking good y/n."

you turned to face him, "jj?" you blinked, doing a double take.

he grinned, running a hand through his messy blond hair, fake badge glittering under the led lights. "what do you think? hot cop or not enough commitment?"

you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. "you’re missing literally every part of the uniform except the handcuffs."

he smirked. "they're in my back pocket. you know, just in case."

"why am i not surprised." you laughed with him.

"you waiting on someone?" he asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

before you could answer, rafe came back into the room holding your drink and one for himself.

"ah, i see." jj spoke, slowly standing to leave you two it.

"can i help you jj?" rafe spoke with a possessive tone.

"nah bro i was just leaving. talk to ya soon y/n." jj gave you an awkward side hug before walking out.

you raised an eyebrow at rafe as he handed you the rum and coke. "jealous?"

"no." rafe muttered, jaw clenched.

you sipped slowly as you studied him. "you sure? because that felt pretty territorial."

"just didn’t like the way he was looking at you," he said, stepping a little closer.

"we’re just friends," you said softly, reaching out to grab his hand before quickly pulling away. rafe noticed and swiftly pulled your hand back, tracing small circles on your wrist.

"i really like your outfit," he whispered, nudging your cat ears.

"i like yours too," you mumbled, his intense stare making you feel nervous. "except i'd like it better if you kept the mask on."

"wow. you really hate looking at my face that much?" rafe laughed, eyes never leaving yours.

you tilted your head, giving him a sweet, slow smile. "it’s not that," you teased. "it’s just… you’re less distracting when your face is covered." a surge of confidence taking over.

rafe raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "you find me distracting?"

you took another sip of your drink, ignoring the flutter in your chest. "you’re in a stupid outfit and still manage to be annoying. that’s a talent."

he leaned closer, close enough now that you had to tilt your head to look at him. "you calling me annoying, sunshine, or are you trying to admit you like looking at me?"

you rolled your eyes. "don’t flatter yourself." but your voice was lighter than you wanted it to be.

the music shifted, pulsing louder from the other room, the familiar beat of 'come as you are' started playing. “i love this song!” you turned to rafe, finishing the drink in your hand and pulling him up.

he didn’t stop you, just fell into step beside you as you pushed through the crowd back toward the living room where everyone was dancing. the soft lights glowed across his face as he followed, his jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

"you gonna dance?" you asked, tossing a look over your shoulder.

“only if it’s with you.” he pulled you in.

you laughed, letting your hands rest on his shoulders as his slid to your waist. hips starting to move a little with the rhythm. the warmth from the alcohol was finally catching up to you, softening the edge of your nerves.

your heart was racing. the way his fingers gripped you tighter, the way his gaze kept dropping to your lips like he was fighting something. he pulled you in closer, skin touching and bodies pressing.

you tried to keep your eyes anywhere but his mouth, but it was impossible. especially when he leaned in, voice just above the music. "you always dance like this? or just with me?"

you tilted your head, smirking. "if i say just with you, is your ego gonna inflate?"

"already has," he murmured, turning you around so you were pulled flushed against his chest. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his hands gripping your body like he couldn’t help it.

his fingers slid under the hem of your top, just barely. warm and confident and like he belonged there.

you should’ve pulled away. made a joke. changed the subject. but you didn’t.

"i can feel you staring," you whispered, turning your neck to look at him.

"i know." his voice was low, rougher now.

you turned fully to look up at him. neither of you looked away. your faces were inches apart, breath mixing in the tiny space between. his hand was still on your waist. yours curled in the fabric of his shirt.

"fuck this," he muttered suddenly.

you blinked. "what?"

"come with me." he pulled back slightly, already lacing his fingers with yours. "just for a minute."

you hesitated, but allowed him to drag you through the heavy crowd of people.

he led you out the back door into the cool night air, no one else around but you two.

the noise dulled the second the door shut behind you. it was quieter out here, besides the heavy breathing of the two of you.

rafe stopped by one of the trees, letting your hands drop, reluctantly, you noticed, and looked at you for a second like he wasn’t sure where to start.

"needed needed some fresh air?" you asked, worry rising.

he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "no. needed to stop pretending like i wasn’t gonna kiss you."

your breath caught.

"so dramatic," you whispered, but your heart was thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"maybe." he stepped in again, slower this time. deliberate. his hands found your waist like he’d been there before, like he knew every curve of it.

his voice was barely a whisper now. his eyes locked on yours. "you want me to back off?"

you didn’t say anything. you just leaned in.

it started of gentle, testing the waters. but as soon as a small gasp left your lips and your hand curled around the back of his neck, that was it.

his lips pressed harder against yours, all hesitation gone. he tasted like alcohol and something darker. he tasted like him.

your back hit the tree behind you before you even registered that he'd stepped forward again, chest flush against yours, hand slipping to your jaw.

you weren’t sure who made the sound, him or you, but your lips parted again, deeper this time, more desperate. like neither of you wanted to come up for air. like this had been building for too long and it was finally breaking.

his thumb brushed your cheek, and his other hand gripped your hip. "fuck," he muttered against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. "been wanting to do that since the second i saw you tonight."

you blinked up at him, breathless, lips still tingling. "just tonight?"

his grin was lazy. dangerous. "don’t push it, sunshine. you know the answer already." he kept his forehead pressed to yours. "i've been losing my mind over you," he murmured.

you looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes searching. "so have i."

and rafe smiled, really smiled, before pulling you in again. slower this time, savouring your taste, hands sliding over your body.

the party felt a million miles away. it was just the two of you, hearts racing, lips colliding, unsaid sentences lost in the small space between your lips.

a/n: holllyyyy shit i am back!!! and with a bang if i do say so myself...

anyway notice the queer reference in here hehehe

hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it!!! thank u for always waiting for me and being so supportive. love u guys

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[mrs-delaney]

2 AM Confessions

🍻📱 Request: joe drunk texting at 2am—wyd? u up?—she ignores it… so he shows up anyway 🥴💌

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 2k words

💬🔞 warning: flirty 2am texts, unresolved feelings, and sex that might ruin your life a little (in a good way)

author’s note: i’m deep in the next chapter of hide (and joe’s pov for behind the lens is coming along too 👀), but i’m still making time to work through the requests in my inbox. love y’all, mean it 💛

📚 read my masterlist

🎤🏈 read Hide — two people, two careers, and one very complicated kind of love

💌 want to be the first to know when new stories drop? join the taglist for updates, previews, and more. ✨

The buzzing of your phone on the nightstand cuts through the quiet of your apartment. You glance at the clock—2:17 AM—then at the screen lighting up with Joe's name.

You up?

You stare at the message, your heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always does when his name appears. You've been avoiding this. Avoiding him. The silence after he left your place Thursday night wasn't an accident—it was self-preservation.

Your phone buzzes again.

Miss you

Then again.

Why didn't you text me back the other night?

And again.

Coming over. Need to see you.

Panic floods your system. You scramble out of bed, rushing to the bathroom mirror. Your hair is a mess from lying down, and you're wearing an old, oversized, grungy t-shirt. You try to fix your hair without making it obvious that you've fixed it, then quickly change into a cute, matching set—soft cotton shorts and a fitted tank top. You grab your perfume and spray it on your wrists and neck, then pause, realizing you're putting in effort you said you wouldn't, but there's no time to second-guess yourself now.

The knock on your door comes twenty minutes later.

You take a breath, wait a few seconds so you don't seem too eager, then open the door to find Joe leaning against the frame. He's not stumbling drunk, just looser than usual—hair slightly messed up, eyes a little unfocused but still very much him.

"You can't just show up here, Joe."

"You weren't answering." Matter-of-fact, like this explains everything.

"I was asleep." The lie comes easily.

"No, you weren't. Your light was on." He looks past you into the apartment.

You both know he's right.

"Can I come in?"

You don't respond verbally, just step back and open the door wider. He walks past you, and you close the door carefully, buying yourself a second to breathe. The space suddenly feels smaller with him in it.

He turns to look at you once he's inside, taking in the apartment like he's cataloging details. Neither of you moves to sit down. The silence stretches, awkward and charged.

"Why didn't you text me back?"

He's not bothering with small talk.

"You're drunk, Joe. I don't want to do this with you right now."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I left your place Thursday night and haven't heard from you since," he continues, not letting you deflect. "That's not... that's not how this usually goes."

"I needed space."

"Space from me?" His voice goes quieter, more vulnerable.

You cross your arms defensively. "It's getting complicated, Joe. This was supposed to be easy."

"So you need space because you caught feelings?" His tone is slightly challenging, a little harsh.

The question hangs in the air like an accusation. Your heart pounds because he just said what you've been trying not to admit.

"What if I did?" you ask, turning it back on him, making him answer first.

Joe runs his hand through his hair, the alcohol making him bold enough to ask, but your response puts him on the spot. A beat of silence as he processes, then:

"I didn't ask you to."

The words hit harder than he meant them to. You feel your face change instantly—hurt, then anger.

"You know what? This is done."

You're already moving toward the door, done with this conversation after he just shut you down when you were finally being honest.

"Wait, don't... can we just..." He takes a step toward you, panic creeping into his voice as he realizes he's about to lose something important. "I fucked that up."

You stop, but don't turn around; your hand is still on the door handle. "Yeah, you did. And I don't want to be on the roster anymore."

The word choice—"roster"—cuts deep because it's exactly right. You're calling out the casual rotation, the lack of commitment, and Joe feels like you punched him.

"You're not on the roster. You ARE the roster," he says, his voice rough with honesty. "There hasn't been anyone else in weeks."

You freeze with your hand still on the door. That's not what you expected him to say. It changes everything and nothing all at once.

"For weeks," you say slowly, finally turning to look at him. "What about tomorrow? Next month?"

You're asking for commitment he might not be ready to give, asking him to define what you are, what this means beyond just being the only one right now.

"I don't know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "It's been a long time since I've done this."

He's not just talking about relationships, but about caring this much. About having something to lose. About being out of his depth, because this actually means something.

"I get that," you say, and you do. "But I can't be in limbo while you figure it out."

The clarity of that statement hits him. You're not being unreasonable—you're protecting yourself. You understand why he's uncertain, but you won't sacrifice yourself for it.

"I know I don't want to lose you," he says finally. "But I don't know what that means yet."

"That's still not enough, Joe." You're exhausted by this whole conversation. "I need more than 'I don't want to lose you.' I need to know this isn't just you telling me what you think I want to hear because it's 2 AM and you want a quick fuck."

The brutal honesty of that accusation makes him feel like you slapped him. You're calling out exactly what you're afraid this is—manipulation for sex.

"That's not what this is," he says, defensive but hurt. "If I just wanted a quick and easy fuck I wouldn't be having this conversation. If that's what this was, I wouldn't have dropped the roster weeks ago."

"So what happens now?" you ask, putting the ball back in his court. He's made his defense, now what's he actually going to do about it?

"I don't know," he admits, the fight going out of him. "Can we just... take it one day at a time?"

He steps closer to you, reaching for you. "Can I stay? We can figure the rest out tomorrow."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Joe. You can't just—"

"I came here because I couldn't sleep thinking about you," he interrupts, his voice raw with exhaustion and honesty. "I don't have the right words to say right now, but that's the truth."

The simplicity of it hits harder than any flowery speech. He's not trying to charm his way out, just telling you the truth. He reaches for you again, more tentatively this time. "Please let me stay."

The vulnerability in that "please" cracks something open in you. Joe doesn't beg, but this feels like begging. After the emotional back-and-forth, after his raw honesty, you can't find words.

So you close the distance between you, stepping into his reach.

Your actions give him the answer your words couldn't. His arms wrap around you immediately, and the relief in both your bodies is palpable. All that tension finally breaking.

"You smell good," he murmurs into your hair, taking you in after holding you close.

After a few moments of just breathing together, of small touches and the shift from comfort to awareness of each other's bodies, he pulls back slightly to look at your face.

"Come on," he says softly, taking your hand and tugging gently toward the hallway.

You follow without question the unspoken agreement that this is what you both want. The walk to your bedroom is quiet, just the sound of your footsteps and the anticipation building between you.

Once you reach the bedroom, there's a beat of uncertainty. The emotional vulnerability you just shared hangs in the air, making this feel different than your usual hookups. More meaningful.

You reach for him first, your hands sliding up under his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. He's still for a second, then helps you pull the shirt over his head.

Your fingers trace along his chest, and he lets out a quiet breath. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing against the soft cotton of your tank top.

"This okay?" he asks, voice low.

You nod, reaching for the hem of your own shirt. He watches as you pull it off, his eyes taking you in like he's memorizing this moment. When his hands finally touch your bare skin, you both exhale at the same time.

The kissing starts slow, tentative, almost careful, but builds quickly. His mouth moves to your neck, finding that spot that makes you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair.

"Missed this," he murmurs against your throat. "Missed you."

Your response gets lost in a soft moan as he guides you back toward the bed. The mattress hits the back of your knees, and you sit down, pulling him with you.

He settles between your legs, hands skimming up your sides, relearning your body like it's been months instead of days. When you arch into his touch, he groans low in his chest.

"Fuck, baby."

His hands are everywhere—your ribs, your back, tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeper. You can taste the alcohol on his tongue, feel the slight tremor in his hands that gives away how much he wants this.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down along with his boxers. He kicks them off impatiently, then reaches for your shorts.

"These too," he says, voice rough.

You lift your hips so he can slide them off, and when you're both finally naked, he pauses to look at you. His chest is rising and falling heavily.

"Come here," you whisper, pulling him down to you.

The first touch of skin against skin makes you both gasp. He settles his weight on you carefully, like he's afraid you might disappear.

He reaches between you, fingers sliding through your wetness, and curses under his breath. "Fuck."

You're about to respond when he pushes one finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly. Your back arches off the bed, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, thumb circling your clit as his fingers work. "Just like that, baby."

The tension builds quickly, your body responding to his touch like it always does. But when you're close, he pulls his hand away, ignoring your frustrated whine.

"Want to be inside you when you come," he says, positioning himself at your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, both of you breathing hard as he fills you completely.

"Shit," he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "You feel fucking good."

He starts moving, deep and slow, each thrust deliberate. Your nails dig into his back as you meet his rhythm, the friction building between you.

"Harder," you gasp, and he complies immediately, his hips snapping against yours with more force.

"Look at me," he says, voice strained. When your eyes meet his, something shifts. This isn't just sex anymore. It's something else entirely.

You feel yourself getting close, that familiar heat building low in your belly. "Joe, I'm—"

"I know," he cuts you off, reaching between you to rub tight circles over your clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it."

The orgasm hits you hard, your body clenching around him as pleasure washes over you. He follows seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a low groan.

You both lie there afterward, breathing heavily, his weight comforting against you. After a moment, he shifts to pull out, then collapses beside you, pulling you against his chest.

"We're gonna have to talk about this tomorrow," he says quietly, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh softly against his chest. "You're right."

Neither of you says anything else for a while, just lie there in the quiet darkness, both knowing that something has shifted between you. Maybe you still don't have all the answers, but this—whatever this is—feels like a beginning.

[midnightquips]

Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

Author's Note: Hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to hearing all your thoughts!!!

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Chapter 2: A Questionable Plan

Part III

The first thing you notice when you step into the common hall is that it looks... different.

Definitely not Tony-level extravagant like you’ve heard, but it’s clear someone went all in for party prep. You figure Yelena probably got Mel into planning it, who then took advantage of Valentina’s need for good publicity. 

String lights hang from the ceiling while a sleek playlist pulses through hidden speakers. There’s actual catered food on one table, and a fully stocked bar on the other.

You tug your dress down as you walk in. It’s red, fitted—very fitted—and shows a little more leg than you usually go for. The neckline dips just enough to be dangerous, and the fabric hugs in a way that makes you feel like... well, like you did not come to play.

Yelena whistles the second she spots you. “Goddamn, Y/N. I’d climb you.”

“Please don’t,” you murmur, adjusting the neckline. “I already feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“You look hot,” she says, linking arms with you. “And very unbothered. Like you’ve totally moved on from emotionally constipated super soldiers.”

You hum. “Is he even coming?”

Yelena smirks. “Oh, he’s coming. Alexei promised he’s going to drag Barnes. Also we told him there’s vodka.”

You raise a brow. “So Bucky’s baited by liquor now?”

“No, Bucky’s baited by you. The liquor is just excuse.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find out who John’s mystery guest is.

He’s tall. Built like he belongs in a recruitment poster. Charming smile. Easy laugh.Almost reminds you of Steve Rogers when he was starting out as Captain America.

His name is Colin.

An appropriate name for a harmlessly attractive guy. The kind of guy who makes good small talk and smells like cedarwood soap.

Yelena all but throws him at you. “Colin, this is Y/N. Y/N, Colin. You two talk. Make eye contact. Laugh loudly at each other’s jokes.”

Colin chuckles. “No pressure or anything.”

You smile, amused. “You’ll get used to her.”

He tilts his head. “Can I get you a drink?”

You glance at the bar, then nod. “Sure. Whatever doesn’t taste like gasoline.”

As Colin heads off, Yelena leans in. “He’s cute, right?”

“Surprisingly,” you admit.

She winks. “Now smile like you’ve never heard the word ‘Bucky’ in your life.”

You hate to say it but for a while, the distraction works.

Colin is funny and relaxed. He tells you a story about John accidentally ordering 200 pounds of protein powder once and trying to pass it off as a “bulk deal.”

You’re surprised to find yourself genuinely laughing at his stories.

You’ve had half a cocktail, and the nerves are finally gone. You’re resting your face on your hand when you start to think you might actually enjoy the night. 

Spoke too soon maybe because just as you quickly glance toward the doorway, there he is. Bucky.

Everything in the room shifts. 

Leaning against the wall in all black. Hair pushed back. Jaw tight.

His gaze is steady on you. It makes you freeze. His eyes drop to your dress. Your legs. The way you’re laughing with someone else.

And something in his expression cracks.

You try to look away. You really do.

But there’s an intensity to Bucky and you can feel him watching, eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.

Your attention is limited but thankfully enough to acknowledge that Colin hands you your drink. When he asks you a question though, you don’t quite hear.

You simply nod, answer something vaguely coherent.

Across the room, Yelena glances at Bucky and beams. “Oh, this is fun.”

Bob sips his drink. “He looks pissed.”

“He is pissed. His jaw’s doing the murder clench.”

“This might have been a bad idea.” Bob is skeptic

She shrugs. “An explosion would happen sooner or later.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leaning against the bar with Colin when Bucky walks past you. You can tell it was deliberately close, enough that his arm brushes yours.

You turn slightly to acknowledge him. “Hey.”

He nods. “Y/N.”

His voice is cool and controlled. But his eyes? It could set you aflame.

You try to keep your voice even. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

He shrugs coolly. “Didn’t want to.”

Your jaw tightens. “Then why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer. Just gives Colin a once-over that could bring a more astute man to his knees.

Instead, Colin–bless his heart–offers a hand. “Colin. Nice to meet you.”

Bucky stares at it and doesn’t move.

You quickly interject to ease the tension. “Colin’s a friend of John’s, visiting for the weekend.”

“Right,” Bucky mutters. “Military buddy.”

The words drip with disdain.

You feel your chest tighten. “Don’t start.”

He meets your eyes again. “Start what?”

But before you can answer, someone calls your name and you let yourself be pulled away.

He continues to watch you from across the room, like a hunter on the prowl.

You felt your every move was being accounted for. Every step. Every laugh. Every sip of your drink.

It’s like his stare is chained to your spine.

Bucky doesn’t talk to anyone. Just drinks and gazes intently.

Until finally, it gets too much for him to bear and he moves. Straight toward you.

Meanwhile, Colin is in the middle of telling you about his last deployment when Bucky taps your arm. “Can we talk?”

Your eyes dart between him and Colin. “Now?”

His voice is low. Firm. “Yes. Now.”

You glance at Colin, smiling politely. “One sec.”

Bucky’s already walking toward the hallway by the time you follow.

You don’t speak until you’re back on your floor. You unlock your door, step inside, and close it behind you. You finally turn to him annoyed. Arms crossed to cover up the fact that your heart was racing.

“Well?”

He’s already pacing.

“I can’t do this,” he says.

You blink. “Can’t do what?”

“This. Watching you laugh with some guy who doesn’t even know you. Watching you look—fuck—look like that and not—” He stops himself, seemingly frustrated at his lack of vocabulary

You frown, hands balling to a fist. You almost feel tempted to console him. “You had your chance, Bucky.”

“I know.” 

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me? You said we’d talk, and you just—disappeared.”

“Sam needed me and then by the time I wanted to… I was focused on figuring out how to not ruin this.”

You stare. “You already did.”

He stops and stares at you.

“I… thought pulling away was the respectful thing,” he says quietly. “I was drunk. I didn’t want our first kiss to be something you’d regret.”

“I didn’t regret it.” You say frankly

His eyes darken. “Neither did I.”

You swallow. “I didn’t deserve the silence.”

“I know but I also didn’t know what to say.”

Your voice cracks. “You could’ve said anything.”

He steps closer. “I’m saying it now.”

Another step.

“I want you.”

Another.

“I always have.”

You’re breathless when he reaches you.

“I want you mine,” he whispers, cupping your jaw. “I don’t want to see you flirting with anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else touching you. I want your lips, your laugh, your legs wrapped around me every night. Only me.”

You stare at him, stunned.

Then finally, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss.

TAGLIST: @killerwendigo @mrsnikolestan @starstruck-cowgirl @staley83 @wickedfun9 @sebastianstan0813 @yellowjm @geekandproud @Knowledgeableknitter @yvespecially @geek-and-proud @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky @Biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @jakesimper @danimuhle @marvelloonie @probablybucky @cozyjess @lana525 @watashiwababy @emilyswortwellen @maribirdsteele @amf71010 @sweettae02 @blackrigel @3sriracha @angelbabyange @stevetonycupcakes @buckyslefttooth @user6170171 @jasontoddswhitestreak @ifuckwithyouanyday @ficmeiguess @daydreamgoddess14 @schlattslonghairytoes

[demie90s]

Ok so we saw reader being down bad for the team but what about the team being down bad for reader

UConn x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Where the Hell Is She?

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:Reader’s always around. Always clinging to someone, stretched out across a teammate’s lap, braiding hair during film. But today? She’s gone.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Team angst, soft yearning, fluff, a little chaotic love

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Mild language, thirsting teammates, clingy team dynamic, sapphic tension

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.5k

ᴠɪʙᴇ:“Why does the gym feel cold?” / “It smells like her hoodie.” / “I literally can’t stretch without her sitting on me.” / “Tell her to come back I’m gonna freak out.”

It starts small.

KK walks into the gym and looks around like someone forgot to turn the lights on. She blinks twice, turns to Ice, and whispers, “It’s quiet.”

Too quiet.

No one’s sitting on the benches singing old Beyoncé. No one’s draped across a pile of duffel bags pretending they’re royalty. No one’s running up behind Nika just to jump on her back like it’s a routine.

She’s gone. And the silence is loud.

“Where is she?” Caroline asks mid-stretch, glancing at the locker room door like reader might come bursting through late—dramatic, loud, laughing, holding a smoothie for someone that isn’t even hers.

Coach Geno shrugs like it’s casual.

“She’s got class until 5. Some labs and meetings. Told her to take the day off.”

The gym deflates.

“The whole day?” Aaliyah asks.

Bri mutters, “I don’t like that.”

They try to focus, really—they do. But it’s hard when no one’s offering to braid your hair. Or fix your sock. Or call you “baby” in front of Coach just to stir the pot.

There’s no lap to sit in. No random back hugs. No unnecessary piggyback rides.

She’s gone. And the whole team is touch-deprived like it’s withdrawal. KK sits on the floor during water break and just stares at her empty spot on the bench.

“She always sits there,” she says to no one.

“She eats my snacks there,” Ashlynn adds.

“She eats my snacks too,” Bri chimes in.

“She eats everybody’s snacks,” Paige says. “Why is that making me sad?”

Nika’s staring at the group chat like she can summon her through sheer willpower.

🧿: u left me here w these sad losers

🧿: is this punishment?

🧿: i’ll be good. come home.

You react to the message. A heart. That’s it. No paragraph. No voice memo. Just vibes.

Aaliyah leans her head on Paige’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna scrimmage without her.”

“Shut up and guard me,” Paige says.

But she doesn’t mean it. No one means anything today.

They run plays half-heartedly. They don’t even bicker over who gets aux. Ashlynn’s hoodie still smells like reader’s perfume and she won’t take it off even though she’s sweating.

“It’s like a hug,” she says softly. “Shut up, let me have this.”

By hour two, Caroline’s literally lying on the court mid-drill, muttering, “I miss her. I miss her so bad.”

“She was just here yesterday,” Ice groans.

“That’s not enough.”

Then comes the breakdown. Group chat chaos.

🇭🇷: she didn’t kiss my forehead yesterday i just realized

🧊: y’all think she loves us still or she moved on

HEY ARNOLDS: i’m calling her

Coraline🗝️: DO NOT CALL HER SHE SAID SHE’S IN CLASS

🪣: does she remember us 😞

🇭🇷: i need her to bite me or something. like fr. knock my chakras back into place

HEY ARNOLDS: don’t talk to me unless you smell like her hoodie rn

They practice like ghosts. Geno yells. Nobody moves fast. Nobody dives for rebounds. The ball slips out of hands like reader’s not there to clap and say, “You got it, baby. Run that back.”

KK lays on the court and mutters, “I can’t stretch without her sitting on me. I literally can’t. This is physical pain.”

It is. And then? Finally?

She sends a pic. In class. Pretty as hell. Whiteboard in the background, notes half-written, lip gloss popping. Peace sign.

“Y’all good?”

“Y’all miss me or sum?”

Paige throws her phone across the gym. “SHE KNOWS.”

She knows how bad they’ve got it. She knows they’re a mess. And she loves it.

She walks in like nothing. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair messy from the wind and a protein bar in her mouth.

It’s late—almost 9PM—but the whole team’s crammed into Nika, Jana, and Paige’s dorm like they don’t all have their own beds. Blankets on the floor, snacks everywhere, some random rom-com playing low on the TV.

The door opens. She steps in.

And for two whole seconds, no one moves. Just…staring.

She looks up, chewing slow.

“Hey,” she says, voice casual.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD—”

“WHERE WERE YOU—”

“DID YOU EAT TODAY—”

“COME HERE—”

“NO GIVE ME A HUG FIRST—”

KK tackles her first, arms around her waist, face in her hoodie. “Don’t ever do that again. You understand me? Don’t ever go that long without touch. I was hallucinating.”

Ashlynn grabs her hand like it’s her emotional support rope. Aaliyah’s rubbing her arm like she’s real and not a ghost.

Paige literally just sits on the arm of the couch and stares.

Her? She just walks further in, like none of it’s crazy. Pulls off her bag. Kicks off her slides. Pops open a Tupperware of leftover pasta and starts eating, one forkful at a time.

“Mmm. Y’all watching 27 Dresses?”

Like half the team isn’t circling her like vultures in love. Nika throws a blanket over her lap and immediately curls up under it, head on her thigh. Jana leans into her other side like it’s a race to absorb the most skin-to-skin.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just keeps eating. Pauses only to press a kiss to Nika’s hair like it’s routine.

“You miss me or something?” she asks, licking pasta off her fork.

“You think you’re funny,” Paige mutters, but she’s sitting a little closer now, pink in the cheeks, like she’d rather die than admit how feral she was today.

She smirks. “Y’all so dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic,” KK says. “We were starving. Emotionally. Physically. Tactically.”

“She’s literally our team love language,” Bri mutters, stealing a bite of pasta from her bowl like it’ll bring peace.

The night goes on and not a single part of her body is untouched. There’s a hand on her ankle. Someone’s fingers tracing her knuckles. Her shoulder’s being used as a pillow. Her lap is fully occupied.

And still—she just eats. Calm. Totally unbothered.

Until finally, she speaks, soft and smug.

“Y’all weird when I’m not around.”

KK nods, eyes closed, head on her chest.

“And we’re not apologizing.”

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |20|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Threatening, Slight Violence, Broken Bones

Word Count: 4.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

You pulled your shirt over your head when you heard a soft knock at your door. A second later Grace stepped in, knowing she didn’t need to wait for a response. She came over to you and instantly lifted the shirt you had just put on, making you sigh. Despite being allowed to leave the infirmary she still needed to check you over one last time.

“I’m fine,” you assured her.

“You’ve almost died twice now,” she whispered. “What did I tell you about being careful?” She flicked a glare up at you, letting the shirt fall back into place.

“I’m sorry.” You gave her your most charming smile and even added your puppy dog eyes to get her to relax.

She only rolled her eyes. She didn’t ask before tilting your head to the side and pulling down the collar of your shirt. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. A vampire bite wouldn’t kill you, not like your bite does to them. A bite from one of them wouldn’t even turn you, but it did leave a small scar, even with your healing ability.

“It’s fine,” you whispered again, gently guiding Grace’s hand back down. “It’s nothing new.”

Grace let out a tired sigh, like she was sick of having this argument every time you got hurt. Which she probably was. You got hurt, she patched you up, it was a never-ending cycle. The alternative was her getting hurt, or Joey, or some innocent, you couldn’t let that happen. If suffering for a short while was what you had to do to save others, then it was a sacrifice you were more than willing to make. Grace herself understood that, you knew that. The whole reason Grace did all this was so that what happened to her, and to you, and to Joey, never happened to anyone again.

“You and Joey seem to be getting closer,” Grace said.

You furrowed your brow at the subject change. That also seemed to be one way to put it. “I guess,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up. You weren’t really sure what you’d call you and Joey. She kissed you and it was amazing, but you had just almost died trying to save her, she was probably just being nice.

“You’re allowed to be happy,” Grace said softly, though you noted the seriousness of her tone. “Go after what you want,” she smiled. “It’s okay. You just have to be willing to fight for it.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together as you search Grace’s face. You couldn’t help but feel there was a double meaning. That maybe Grace didn’t drop it, that she wanted you to use whatever was going on with Joey to not throw yourself carelessly into danger.  You weren’t sure if that would work, you’d probably just want to protect Joey more if your feelings deepened. That being said, you had never allowed yourself to care about someone that way, not since you were bit. Besides Grace, you didn’t have to worry about not making it home, you never had to consider who might grieve you if you never came back.

“I don’t even know what she wants,” you whispered.

“Then talk to her,” Grace said with a soft smile.

That was certainly easier said than done. If you talked to her, she’d give you an answer. You were sure you weren’t ready for her answer. More specifically you weren’t ready for her to reject you. It was just a crush at the moment, harmless flirting, you were sure she knew about your crush but as long as it remained that way it was fine. Even if she maybe sort of felt the same way as you, she had other priorities, other things to consider. You met Caleb once and though he seemed to like you that didn’t mean Joey wanted you in his life that way. You were a risk, being with you would be a risk, and she didn’t take risks with Caleb, it was probably better if she continued to keep herself and him distant from you.

“Go on,” Grace nodded towards the door. “She’s waiting.”

You nodded and walked out of the room with Grace behind you. You had the regular car ride back to Joey’s, though this time you imagined an uncomfortable silence now that you’ve shared a kiss. For all you knew Joey wouldn’t want to talk about it and would pretend it never happened. Or she would want to talk about it, and she’d try to let you down easy.

When you got downstairs you saw Joey already waiting by the front door. “Ready?” You asked. Joey nodded and you opened the door, gesturing for her to lead the way.

The two of you hopped in the car and were on your way. You hit the button for the radio and turned the volume up just enough that it shouldn’t annoy Joey but also so the silence wouldn’t feel as awkward. You occasionally glanced at Joey out of the side of your eye but tried to remain focused on the road. She stared out the window, her elbow resting out the window as the wind blew her hair back.

You could feel Joeys eyes on you as you continued the drive, but you refused to look at her. Your fingers started to twitch around the steering wheel after five minutes of her eyes on you.

“Are we really doing this?” She asked.

“Do-doing what?” You asked, finally taking a quick look at her. There was an amused smile on her face though you weren’t sure why.

“Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You opened your mouth, but no excuses came to you, so you ended up just gaping at her like a fish. Joey rolled her eyes and looked back out the window.

“I kissed you,” she said simply.

Your mouth suddenly became dry; you weren’t expecting her to bring it up. You figured if you never mentioned it then she wouldn’t attempt to reject you. You guessed she just wanted to make things clear and not let you assume it meant anything. Maybe she was offering you this as a kindness, a type of closure, or she just didn’t want you to start thinking you could do something drastic like hold her hand.

“Now you’re being weird,” she said.

“I’m not being weird,” you awkwardly chuckled, which did nothing to help your case. “I saved your life, and you were thankful and that’s what happened.” You cleared your throat awkwardly hoping that was believable. You opened the door, you just needed her to understand it was okay with you, that you didn’t expect anything from her.

“You really think I’d kiss you just because you almost died?”

You gave her a confused look. You agreed, it seemed a little weird but there was truly no other reason you could think of that would make her kiss you.

Joey let out a sigh. “It did make me realize somethings,” she admitted. “But that’s not the only reason why.”

“It’s not?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Inside you perked up, you couldn’t help the spark of hope that ignited in you.

“Are you seriously going to make me say it?” She looked at you, genuinely asking you this. You just stared back, you needed her to say it, you needed her to clarify what she meant. If you spoke first then you could never go back, if she went first and it wasn’t where you thought it was going then you could shove your disappointment down and pretend everything was fine.

“I like you,” she mumbled.

You fought the smile that tried to break out onto your face. “You like me?” You asked. “Like, romantically?”

“God,” she groaned. “You’re such an ass.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes! There! You happy!” She through her hands up in faux frustration. “Somehow your stupid self-sacrificing ass has won me over.”

You focused on the road as you tried to stop from smiling, she could say the sweetest things at times. “So, does that mean it would be okay if I asked you out some time?”

You flexed your hands around the steering wheel, quietly wondering when your mouth became so dry. You risked a glance to your right when an answer never came, only to be met with Joey staring right back at you. Luckily, she wasn’t glaring like you thought she would be, though she seemed to wear a look of disbelief.

“Are you seriously asking me if you’re allowed to ask me out?” She asked.

You shrugged. She kissed you, said she liked you romantically, though as far as you were concerned none of this was confirmation she wanted to date you. She could have been acknowledging all those things but still wanting to keep things professional. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, work up the nerve to ask her out, only for her to reject you and make things forever awkward.

Joey rolled her eyes with a sigh. “If you were to ever ask me out,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about getting a no.”

A smile tugged at your lips, but you remained focused on the road. “Good to know,” was all you said.

A part of you wanted to turn and ask her out right then and there. You were on your way back into the city, there were so many great spots you could go to that would be perfect for a date. Though all that seemed a little sudden, you didn’t want to come off desperate. Besides, though you were sure Joey would appreciate the sights, she deserved something special for a first date, you needed to actually think it through and plan it out. On top of all that, asking her out in the car was hardly romantic, you could do better than that.

As you got off the highway you took the turn that would lead you towards Joeys apartment. “Turn here,” she said as you came to an intersection.

You furrowed your brow but did as she asked. “I need to pick up Caleb,” she said.

You hummed in acknowledgement. You had only picked her up a few times from her ex’s apartment, she usually tried to be back at her place by the time you arrived. This was new though, you weren’t sure if you were meant to drop her off and then she and Caleb would just walk back to her apartment or what. You knew your time with her was coming to an end for the day, but you still hoped for a little more time. Caleb had met you but if you offered them a ride he might think something more than work was going on between you and his mom. Which there was, at least you and Joey were on your way to that, at least you thought you were. Everything was so new, you weren’t even dating, you hadn’t even been on a date, the last thing either of you needed was Caleb asking questions.

You pulled up to the apartment and put the car in park, the very least you could do was wait until she got inside. You’d wait until she and Caleb walked out but that might raise even more questions from Caleb, especially if he saw they weren’t getting in the car with you.

Joey unbuckled herself and wordlessly got out. You were tapping your fingers on the wheel when you decided to turn up the music. As you reached for the dial you caught Joey staring at you with a raised eyebrow. Your mouth hung open, the question dying on your lips, you felt like you were supposed to know what she was expecting.

“Aren’t you coming?” She asked.

You looked around, as if she could be talking to someone else. You quickly nodded and struggled to undo your seatbelt as she finally closed her car door. You barely remembered to turn off the car before getting out and jogging to catch up to her.

You kept glancing at her out of the side of your eye. This was uncharted waters, and you weren’t sure how to act. You deciding standing behind Joey and following a few steps behind was the best course of action. You didn’t know much about her ex, just that he was kind of an asshole and Joey didn’t seem overly fond of him, but she still allowed him to share custody of Caleb.

You followed Joey up the stairs to the fourth floor. You waited behind her, looking everywhere but the door she was currently knocking on. You titled your head; there was a slight creak of the floorboards from the apartment behind you. The door never opened, no one even so much as touched the doorknob but you could hear their breathing, they were most likely looking through the peep hole.

Your head snapped to the door as it was flung open. A man stood in the doorway, he was relatively physically built, he had a crew cut even after his time in the military, his flannel hung loose over a white tank top, and to pull it all together his jeans were forever dirty from whatever job he worked. You recognized him instantly; there were pictures in Joey’s file after all, from when you were considering offering her a job. The man instantly rolled his eyes when they fell on Joey.

“What do you want?” He asked gruffly.

“I’m here to pick up my son,” Joey said. Her voice didn’t change, you had heard it a thousand times like that now, but her heart rate spiked ever so slightly. Her hand was shoved in her pocket, and you could hear her fiddling with a wrapper from a piece of candy she had already eaten.

The man just scoffed and rolled his eyes again. Your fingers twitched at your side; it was good Joey never wanted you around before if this was how her ex treated her.

“Caleb!” the man called out, barely turning his head back into the apartment. “Your mom’s here, get your shit together!”

Your fingers clenched into a fist, you sucked in a breath when you felt claws pierce your palm. You couldn’t lose it, not with not only Joey right there but her son just in the other room. Slowly you unclenched your hand, it took everything in you not to hiss as your claws came out of your flesh. You wiped your palm on your jeans; the last thing you needed was someone questioning why your hand was covered in blood.

“Who’s this?” the man asked, seeming to notice you for the first time.

“None of your business,” Joey snapped.

The man scoffed. His eyes flicked from you to Joey and a knowing cynical smile slowly spread across his face. “I see how it is,” he nodded. “Where’d you fine this one?” he looked you up and down, puffing out his chest as he sized you up.

“Work,” there was an edge to Joey’s voice, one that you knew meant drop it. Her ex didn’t seem to know her too well or he didn’t care because dropping it seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

“Work,” he sighed, rubbing his chin, like he was in on some secret between just the two of them. “You knew me from work once.”

Joey rolled her eyes, she clearly knew what he meant as well. You had a feeling you knew what he was getting at, but you didn’t want to start assuming.

“What kind of work,” he said as if he didn’t believe a word she said. “Do you do together?”

“None of your business,” Joey said, giving him a warning glare.

“I think I deserve to know who you’re bringing around my son.” He stood taller, blocking the entirety of the doorway. He didn’t take a step forward, but he it clear what he was trying to do.

Before Joey could respond Caleb came running up behind his dad. He squeezed past his dad, not bothering to wait for him to move. “Get back here,” the man said harshly, catching Caleb by the arm and yanking him back.

Your breath caught in your throat as you held in a growl. This wasn’t your fight, you had no right to involve yourself. Joey was more than capable of taking care of herself, you had seen that firsthand.

“Don’t touch him,” Joey warned, ripping her ex’s hand off of Caleb. She gently pulled Caleb toward her, putting herself between him and his father. You heard the click of a lock and the door behind you creak open, but you didn’t turn around.

“We’re leaving,” Joey said with finality. “You better get over this,” she gestured up and down at him. “By next weekend.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “We are not done yet,” he said. His hand shot out, grabbing onto Joey and trying to yank her back towards him. Joey spun around and slapped him across the face.

His head snapped to the side, and he slowly turned, now fully glaring at Joey. “Bitch,” he snarled.

He raised his hand, to grab her again or to hit her back, you weren’t sure. Your hand caught his before it could ever reach her. You snapped his wrist with just a simple flick of your own. He tried crumbling to his knees, but you held him up as you stepped in front of Joey. You pushed the man back into his apartment, slamming the door behind you, Caleb didn’t need to see what you were about to do.

“Don’t kill him,” you heard Joey whisper.

You let out a huff, it would be so easy to kill him, though it probably would have only caused you more problems in the long run. You kept your grip on his wrist as you walked him back until he hit the wall. When you released him, he collapsed to the ground, gripping his wrist, which now flopped motionlessly in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go.

“You psycho,” he spit out. “I’m going to…” his words died as you crouched down in front of him, flashing your glowing yellow eyes. You heard his heartrate tick up and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Wh-what are you?” he managed to get out through trembling lips.

“You’re never going to lay a fucking hand on either of them again,” you stated calmly. “Got it?” he quickly nodded, pushing his back into the wall as if he could somehow put more distance between himself and you. “You’re also never going to try taking Caleb from her, yeah?” you chuckled as if it were ridiculous for you to even think he’d do such a thing.

He nodded, you knew he could be agreeable with the right motivation. “Good,” you said, giving him a kind smile.

Your hand shot out, gripping him tightly on the shoulder. You squeezed, applying just enough pressure so he was wincing but not enough to actually break anything. “Now,” you whispered, still keeping the kind smile on your face. “You don’t actually give a shit about your kid; we both know it. You only wanted weekends because it hurt her. So,” he let out a whimper as you squeezed his shoulder even tighter. “No more of that,” you shook your head. “She’s got full custody.” You stared at him expectantly, but he just stared back at you in fear. “Do you have a problem with that?” you asked slowly so he’d understand. He quickly shook his head.

You lessened your grip on him, and he released a sigh of relief. You didn’t allow him the pleasure of thinking you were done for long before you tightened your grip once again, yanking him closer. “If you come for either of them, if I so much as hear about you ever having laid a hand on them,” you said coldly, your eyes somehow burning brighter. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out,” you let out a dark chuckle as you stared into his tear-filled eyes.

You released him and stood up abruptly, as if nothing had happened. You turned on your heel and walked back out the door, not bothering to give him a second glance. You closed the door behind you, making sure no one could see the disappointment of a man lying on the floor.

You looked up and down the hall, you were alone. You tilted your head when your head lifted at the sound of Caleb’s laughter. You let out a shaky breath as you stepped up to the door across the hall and gave it a soft knock.

It was only a moment before a woman you didn’t recognize answered. She looked you up and down, letting out a small hum before stepping aside. You didn’t move to step into her apartment, but you could see Joey and Caleb sitting on the couch. Joey seemed to feel your eyes on you because her eyes found you almost instantly and she was moving towards you a second later. She whispered something to Caleb who nodded and started packing his stuff.

“Are you okay?” you asked as soon as she was standing in front of you. Joey crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “I’m sorry,” you dropped your head. You had just made progress with her; she was allowing you a chance and you probably just blew it.

You sucked in a breath when you felt Joey’s soft hand rest on your cheek, slowly guiding you to look up. When you looked at her you didn’t see anger or judgement, you didn’t even see fear. “Thank you,” she whispered.

You leaned into her touch, you wanted nothing more than to pull her in for a kiss, but you were aware of Caleb coming up behind her. You stepped away when he got to the doorway and looked down at him. He looked up at you and if he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it, he just smiled and pushed past his mother.

The woman whose apartment they were in pulled Joey aside and whispered something to her. You didn’t listen, wanting to respect her privacy but you couldn’t help but think they were talking about you based on the way the woman’s eyes occasionally flicked to you and how Joey’s cheeks reddened. When they were done you looked a Joey questioningly and she shook her head, clearly having no intention of ever telling you what was just said. You couldn’t help but smirk as you followed them back down to the car.

Caleb’s eyes lit up at your car and he actually sprinted to the backseat. Joey shook her head, but you hadn’t seen a smile so big on her face since you had met her. Once all three of you were in the car you rolled down the windows, it was a short drive to their apartment, but you figured Caleb deserved the full experience of riding around in a Jeep, if that was his reaction to it.

Within a few minutes you were pulling up outside Joey’s apartment. You didn’t wait for her to give you that look again as you unbuckled and followed them out. The three of you silently walked up to the apartment and as soon as Joey opened the door Caleb rushed in, running straight to his room, barely managing to wave you a goodbye in the process.

You bounced on your heels in the doorway, not wanting to cross the threshold until Joey invited you to do so. Joey stood on the other side, casually resting her arm on the doorframe.

“Thank you for today,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” you whispered.

The two of you stood there just staring at each other before letting out an awkward chuckle. It seemed neither of you knew what to do next. You let out a shaky breath as you tried to prepare yourself for what you wanted to do. You just threatened a man as if it were nothing but the idea of making this next move was the most terrifying thing you had ever faced.

“So, Ana,” you said, testing the waters. She tilted her head curiously at her real name but didn’t so much as glare at you like she had before. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

You swallowed nervously and tried to stop your fingers from twitching at your side. She had told you earlier that she wouldn’t be opposed to you asking her out, she told you she liked you. None of that got rid of the nerves though. Even though she thanked you before, you weren’t sure if breaking her ex’s wrist and threatening his life would change things for her.

“It would be my pleasure,” Joey answered, not leaving you in suspense for too long.

You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking out into a smile. “Great!” you said. You stepped back, not wanting to overstay your welcome or risk making everything awkward again. “Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

You walked backwards down the hall until she closed the door then you turned around. The smile didn’t leave your face even when you got back to the car. You couldn’t wait to get back and tell Grace everything that happened.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrryxcx

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121 @sadoutlaw @pohtaytoh

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter sixteen

Synopsis: You realize a bit more about how you feel towards Rex that extends past just being teammates. Just in time for a specialized mission you’re the only one interested in going on.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 16/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: I loved reading your guy's shocked comments last time, you're all so funny. This chapter and the next were both going to be one chapter but this one is already so long it would probably end up being 10k+ words 😭 Then the chapter after the next one will be a Rex POV. Reblogs, comments, likes, taglist requests are all very appreciated!!

You don’t like him. Not like that, that’s ridiculous. You could hardly stand him a few days ago! It wasn’t even just dislike, you hated him. And he hated you. He spent months trying to get rid of you. This is ridiculous, more than ridiculous it’s… well, it’s just plain idiotic. You barely like him enough to visit his room! And that’s just because you feel bad. Sure, he seems to be making an effort of sorts to be better, but that does not erase months of heartache and borderline misery. Heartache isn’t the right word, that implies that he has some kind of effect on your heart, which he does not.

But he was at least semi-good company after long shifts at the hospital. Who else did you have? Rae didn’t want to entertain you constantly, and she was still asleep most of the day because of her healing process. So, who else did you have other than the asshole? You just liked to see his steady improvement; it was akin to a social experiment. Nothing more. And as far as social experiments went at least he was somewhat good company. You liked the banter as much as you hated to admit it. And you liked how much he seemed to concede to what you were saying. A stark contrast to the Rex who had fought you on everything. If you asked to see his new hand, he would let you see it without hesitation. If you told him to stop talking while you were trying to focus on a message that just popped up from Cecil, he would instantly shut up. It was like he had been trained almost overnight. Sure, he could be funny, and surprisingly insightful but that doesn’t mean anything either.

At this very moment, he’s telling you how annoyed he is at his hair. Which as of now was starting to grow out from the close-cut buzz he had received during surgery. It was a little scruffy, not nearly long enough to be weighed down, so it just stuck out in different directions. He looked dumb in an endearing sort of way. For the first part of your visit, he just sat with one hand on his head as if it would hide it from you. Chunks stuck up through his fingers, and he somehow made it look perfectly natural for someone to sit like that. Until he needed to talk about something with more animation, and then his annoyance at how it looked was forgotten. You didn’t think it looked that bad, it was very different from his usual look, but not bad. It looked soft-  

Ah, shit.

You were starting to like Rex.

It was hard enough to look him in the eye after your dream the other night. It was embarrassing honestly. You might have self-indulged a little, asking Rex to inspect his hand for fully no reason other than because you wanted to. He didn’t even ask why, just offered it and kept talking.

“Cecil’s talking about getting me to be field ready after today-”

You hummed quietly, only half listening after your sudden realization. God, Rae was going to have a field day with this.

“I hope my suit is all fixed up, you know? If not I guess I could call Eve or something cause the amount of damage it had I doubt I could patch it up-” His left hand was still nudged towards you, palm up, even though you were no longer examining it.

“Wait, you said Cecil wants you back on the field?” You dropped your thought process for a moment, finally focusing fully on him.

“Uh, yeah.” He said with a small nod. “I’m getting discharged today, they said I’m basically good to go-”

“I don’t think ‘basically’ isn’t very assuring.” You frowned.

He tilted his head a little at you, a sly smile ghosting over his lips. “You worried about me, nurse?”

Normally you would roll your eyes, quickly followed by an exasperated groan. But now, you could swear the temperature of the room went up a few degrees. “No, I’m worried that if you get put on a mission, you’ll fuck it up. You should be fully healed before going out again.” Harsh, maybe harsher than it needed to be. But you didn’t want him reading into the way you had just looked at him.

“First of all, fucking ouch. Second of all, if you’re so worked up about it, why not just check me yourself?” He holds his right hand out to where you sit on the recliner.

You glance down at his hand before snapping your gaze back up to him. “Well, if the doctors say you’re good to go-”

He barks out a laugh. “What is going on right now?”

“They are professionals, they know what they’re doing.” Your eyes jerk down to his hand for a second again, which he is still holding out to you.

“You just said-” Rex raises a brow, but before he can finish you interrupt.

“Oh, piss off, fine.” You grab his hand a little rougher than you meant to. You can feel him tense from the gesture which sends a feeling down your spine. Good or bad, you couldn’t quite tell, but you felt it. You close your eyes, focusing on whether there are any remaining injuries, and surprisingly enough, besides a few left-over bruises he seems fairly fine. You let go after healing the measly remainder, “See? You’re all set.”

“See?” Rex repeats, confusion lacing his tone. “See what? I wasn’t the one raising doubts,” He looks to the other side of the room as if looking for an imaginary camera. “What-?”

“Gotta stop living in the past Rex, keep moving forward.” You stand up swiftly, preparing to leave. Should you feel bad for borderline gaslighting the poor guy? Maybe. But you were feeling your own confusion as it was.

“Wait.” Rex’s voice calls out as you go to grab your coat. “Are you still coming around the HQ?”

“Yep, still work there.” You folded your coat over your arm.

“So, I’ll see you around?” He’s wincing slightly as if he’s being too vulnerable, and he has to express it externally.

“Yes.” You affirm, your expression softening. “I know where you live, don’t worry.” You give him a small smile.

“I know where you live too.” He says back.

“Great, and I know where I live, and you know where you live, so we’ve got that covered.” Not sure how to fully end this exchange, you take a few steps back to exit the room.

Rex opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly snaps it shut, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed tightly. His jaw ticks as he looks off to the side, and you decide you need to get out of there now before you make a fool of yourself.

“See you later, Rex!” You call out as you step out of the room.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re entering Rae’s room; some trashy reality TV show is playing on the screen. Rae herself is working on some breakfast, obviously not enjoying it much. “Hello?” She raises a brow at you as you close the door with an unintentional slam.

“Hi.” You respond as you sink into the chair.

“Did someone die?” She eats a spoonful of her food, shuddering as she swallows.

“Worse.” You respond dramatically, your hands covering your face.

“They’re making you move into The Guardian’s HQ?”

“Ohhh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You peeked through your index and middle finger to look at her.

“Eh, not really. Then I can’t escape to your apartment for drink  nights. So, if it’s not that then what is it?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

“Come on, are you being paid by the word?”

“Rex.” You close your fingers, feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course.” Giggles sound off from Rae’s direction as soon as you say it, not needing to ask another clarifying question. “I knew this was coming.”

“How?” You tried not to sound extremely pathetic, but it still came out in a half whine. “I couldn’t stand him!”

“You brought him a bottle after you kicked his ass, constantly looked at him when he was around, talked about him when I was over-” She starts counting out on her fingers.

“You’re the one who brought him up when you came over!” You exclaim.

“Because I knew you wanted to talk about him!”

“He has been the major cause of any drama or problem in my life, of course I’d want to talk about that. That doesn’t mean I liked him!” You held your hands out in an animated fashion as you spoke.

“Oh no, you definitely didn’t like him. But you thought about him all the time, didn’t you?”

“Ugh, you’re not making me feel better.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about it being one-sided.” She finally ditched the food, pushing it away with a sour face.

“What?” You slouch more in the chair, swiveling to face her.

“Every bit of energy you’ve taken up talking, or complaining-or whatever, about him, he’s done like tenfold over you. He’s obsessed.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, somehow sinking further down. “I wish I had your level of delusion, Rae.”

“Call me delusional all you want, give it a few days, weeks.” She pauses and looks at you. “Or months, given the sluggish pace you two have been moving. I might be dead by then with the likes of this job.”

“Oh boy.”

Rae takes the pause to turn more towards you, letting out a groan at the exertion which has you shooting up even though she has no intentions of letting you help. “So, what made you finally realize?”

“Are you sure I can’t help in some way?” You rub your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Stop changing the subject, help me by giving the details.”

You sigh for what must have been the millionth time since entering the room. “I had…a dream.”

“Ooh, the scandal!”

“Shut up.” Pause. “Yeah, I mean kind of.”

“Call me the moment he shows up at your apartment looking like a lost puppy, Bulletproof is going to owe me so much money.”

“I really hope you’re joking.”

--

“No offense, but since when did we take orders from you, Donald? Where is Cecil?”

“This isn’t orders, it’s a prospect job.” Donald responded with a cool air.

He was always good at taking the shit everyone gave him. It made you feel for him more than most.

A few days have passed since you last saw Rex at the hospital. Somehow the two of you just couldn’t seem to coincide at the headquarters. It was frustrating, and even more frustrating than the lack of his presence in your life, was the fact that it frustrated you in the first place. You had walked by instinct to his room at the hospital multiple times the day after he left just to be greeted by sterile air and the smell of various detergents used to clean the area. The disappointment that filled you with the sight of it was not lost on you.

Right now, you finally saw him. The Guardians were assembled for some ‘special’ mission. Donald had gathered you all on Cecil’s behalf, it had all been very vague. Every member was present minus Rae, who was still recovering, and now going through physical therapy. And Kate, who was well…dead.

The memory of the fallen member had its effect on you just like every other mistake you had made. In order to be productive, both as an individual and as a hero, you had to push it away every time it entered your mind. You could wallow or you could act. You choose to act.

“A job? I thought we already had jobs. You know, being that we are Guardians and all.” Rex’s voice sounded out from the other side of the group, causing you to shift your attention. He was wearing his suit, and from the state of it he had recently been in a fight. His headpiece was pushed back but his goggles were perched on top of his head, his short hair poking up around it. You clenched your jaw tightly, he should be on vacation, having a break, or I don’t know, in therapy? He almost died. There’s no way that he came back from that completely fine. In that case, maybe you should be in therapy too, the number of times you’ve kind of almost died. But that’s only kind of so you’re obviously exempt. Rex shifted slightly, his line of sight landing on you, which sent you looking back at Donald again with no idea how long you’d been staring.

“This is technically out of Guardian jurisdiction, but an important donor has asked us specifically for undercover security detail.”

“Wait, we’ve been asked to be someone’s glorified security guards? Isn’t that a bit below our pay grade?” Bulletproof sounds off from right next to you.

“There are plenty of other heroes around, do you need a portfolio that you could send to him? I still have one from when I was running tryouts for the new team.” Rudy input a bit further down the line.

You glanced over before adding your own contribution, “Donor? Aren’t we government-run? How do we have donors?”

“They have asked specifically for members from The Guardians. You can technically refuse, but it wouldn’t be without repercussions.” Donald focuses on you. “There are a select few donors that contribute to the GDA and other operations, which entails all of you. Makes for more funds for renovations after damages that occur after Guardian missions.”

It makes sense, kind of. Cecil made a comment to you once about how much it costs to use his teleportation device, and with how much upkeep the Guardians themselves take just from missions, you can’t imagine it is in any way cheap. But donors?

“It would be a small detail, two or three. The person of interest has received a few concerning terroristic threats and wants to be sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Everything, as in?” Amanda questions.

“It’s a fundraiser, a gala-”

“A dance? This is ridiculous.” Immortal interjects, scoffing at Donald. “We are the Guardians of the Globe, not some dollar store rent-a-cop business.”

A few voices intertwine, speaking out all at once, mostly sounding disgruntled, displeased. On one level you understood their reservations. This was not the kind of thing any of you dealt with. Stakeouts? Sure. Life-threatening last-minute situations? Of course. A money-raising ball with the off chance of terrorism? Not as much.

Rex’s voice was surprisingly not one of those you heard. You tried to subtly look over at him, just to see that he was already looking right at you. Seemingly gauging your reaction. After looking away so suddenly earlier you would be pushing your luck doing it again right now. There was nothing else you’d rather do than break this scathing contact, but you just looked at him. And he looked back, his pale green gaze washing over you. Internally, you were trying to decide how long an acceptable amount of time would be to look at him, giving him a small smile. You didn’t have to wonder for long, because he broke the eye contact first. His attention turned to Immortal who was saying something about none of them partaking in this “obsolete distraction”.

“I’ll do it.” Before you fully thought it through the affirmation passed your lips. You weren’t really sure what the big deal was. So, what, it’s not some city-leveling threat. It almost sounded like fun, even exciting. You would be able to dress up, play a part, improvise. It would be a nice change of scenery.

Immortal sighed heavily. “You can have her. But we can’t spare anyone of importance.”

Give me a fucking break. You closed your eyes, letting out a controlled breath before turning to Bulletproof. “Come with me.” You whispered.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t want to have to dress up for some dance. No way.” He whispered back, not turning his head.

“Please! It would be at least a few days away from this place. It could be like a vacation.” You hiss, determined to get someone to go with you. Bulletproof was nice enough, and you knew he would be professional, which you couldn’t say for other members.

And you wouldn’t dare ask Rex.

“Ugh.” Bulletproof grumbled quietly. “I’ll go too.” He said loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Donald nodded, giving you what you swore must have been a look of appreciation, but with the glasses, you just couldn’t tell.

The Immortal grunted in displeasure but didn’t comment, folding his arms.

“I’ll also go.”

The whole group turns their attention to the voice that spoke from the other side of the room.

“What? I’d never say no to a party, you guys should know that by now.” Rex expressed with a composed tone.

“We can’t spare both you and Bulletproof.” Immortal said gruffly, turning to Donald. “Won’t just one person do?”

He couldn’t even use your name. Your expression betrayed how much this was getting under your skin, but you couldn’t seem to return to indifference.

“Technically, only two members are needed-” Donald starts,

“If something happens Bulletproof can just fucking fly back-or something, right?” Rex cuts in, drawing attention back to him.

“Technically-” Bulletproof begins, holding a hand up to his chin.

“Great. Then it sounds like we’re set.” Rex finishes and you catch his eye for a moment, mouthing a small ‘thank you’, to which he briskly nods, looking back at the Immortal.

“Very well.” Immortal bites out, leaving the conversation entirely, followed closely by Black Sampson.

“Shall I too go on this adventure?” Shapesmith asks, which is immediately shut down but a hand on the shoulder from Bulletproof and a shake of the head.

“You will each receive a detailed briefing later today by handout.” Donald explains to the three of you that agreed to attend. “The Gala is located on the donor’s personal land in northern Montana. The morning after will consist of a special guest brunch which you all will be attending as well. There will be rooming for you there as they want you on scene all night long just in case. And it would also be easier on resources to keep you all there.”

“Who is this person?” You inquire, Donald has not said anything specific this whole conversation other than where this dance would take place, and that the mystery person was a donor for the GDA.

“That will be in the handout you receive.” He stated concisely.

“Why all the secrecy?” Rex furrows his brow, folding his arms.

“Discretion is involved regarding every donor.” Donald responds, straightening his tie. “The gala is tomorrow night, you will all be flown in tomorrow afternoon, outfits and identities will be assigned to you.”

Bulletproof looked exceptionally put out, Rex looked like he was trying to solve long division in his head, and you? Well, you were borderline ecstatic.

--

You would never get used to using a private jet. After so long flying commercially, all the space felt like heaven. Your back didn’t start aching after the first hour, you could stand up and stretch your legs, even more you could write an essay about the bathroom. The other times you had traveled in the Guardian-affiliated-jet it had been the whole team. Now it was just you, Bulletproof, and, worst of all, Rex.

The carpet was a crisp maroon, the rest of the interior was a sterile white. Which you thought sharply contrasted with the Guardians of the Globe headquarters, that consisted mostly of aluminum tones. The walls of the plane’s interior were accented with mahogany plating, something you couldn’t decide if you thought was tacky or classy. The opinion changed every mission.

Any excitement at the prospect of being in semi-close quarters with Rex again was quickly drowned out by Rex and Bulletproof incessantly bickering.

“I’m just saying I still think you could have come up with a more inspired name.”

“I’m about to be inspired to knock your teeth out.” Bulletproof spit back.

You didn’t get between them, eventually they would both wear themselves out.

The clouds outside your window hung far below. Clustered together, forming wool-like patterns. For a moment you imagined what it would be like to surf on it. Then you looked back at the handout Donald had provided you each with. The three of you were meant to be covert, blend in. You were each free to use your own names, as apparently most of these people were not horribly well-informed. However, you each had been assigned backstories. You were a philanthropist by blood, having inherited a section of the oil industry. Rex was a wildlife activist who had traveled all over the world. Zandale was meant to be a journalist who was writing about the event for Time Magazine. Hopefully, there wasn’t someone there actually from Time Magazine, but you guessed that Donald already checked the guest list for that.

When you first read through it you had mentioned to the other two that you thought it was odd that Rex was the person who had been all over, rather than Zandale, who could fly.

“I have been all over.” Rex had said defensively.

“What? When?” You had scoffed.

“Just…well, a while ago, I don’t fucking know.” The tension in the room had skyrocketed for reasons you weren’t sure of, so you didn’t ask further.

The donor was someone named Dr. Mune. Apparently, the doctor was a genius. Having created many of the lifesaving measures the GDA is still using today. One of those included the brand-new hand Rex was situated with. You wish you could have seen Rex’s reaction to that information. Would it make him work harder on the mission? Or did he feel indifferent to it? It made you feel more connected to the job; the new hand was nothing short of a work of art. Memories of how it felt against your touch flood your vision, sending electricity down your spine.

“Joy?” You turned as Rex said your nickname, feeling annoyance at the sound of it after it had been used so long as an insult. Or at least that was how you had formerly perceived it.

You hummed in response, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, what do you think?” Rex said, tilting his head.

“I think you’re both extremely annoying.”

“God, I already know that. Focus! Whose name is better?”

They both looked at you expectantly. It was weird to see Bulletproof, or rather Zandale, without his goggles on.

“Do I have to take a vote?” You sighed heavily, turning back to the window.

“Yes.” They responded in unison.

“I like Invincible’s name most probably.”

“That was not one of the options but thank you for reminding us of your crush.” Rex retorted, a hint of bitterness lacing his words.

You scoffed, turning back towards them, ready to correct him, only to hear Zandale let out a laugh. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. He was pursing his lips and purposefully not looking at either of you. Shit. Rae hadn’t been joking. Great.

“What?” Rex looked at him too, his brow drawing together tensely.

He bit the corner of his upper lip, looking up at you first then at Rex, then back and forth a few times. GREAT.

“How do you know I don’t have the hots for Bulletproof here, hm?” You panicked, you had to say anything to get him to get off Zandale’s obvious trail.

This caused them both to turn their attention to you. “What?” They said in unison again, which made you laugh.

“God, you two are like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, I’m surprised you don’t get along better.”

Rex shook his head while holding his hands up as if putting away all of this information to deal with later. “Okay, can you just answer the original question?”

You hum again, you could be honest, or you could really mess with Rex. Unfortunately for Rex… “Honestly, probably Bulletproof.”

“Suck it!” Zandale shoots up out of his seat, doing some kind of air-pump gesture.

“You- you’re lying! She’s fucking lying don’t listen to her!” Rex holds his hands out in distraught, watching as Bulletproof had his own little celebration.

For a brief moment, you made eye contact with him, smiling the cheesiest grin. His annoyed expression softened as he sucked on his teeth. For that small moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. Your smile shrunk into something more genuine, gentler. And for some reason, you waved. It was small, you hardly lifted your hand. His gaze dropped to it, and a small smile ghosted over his lips before he returned the action. His free hand gripping the armrest tightly.

--

Bulletproof had nodded off, his head rested against the edge of the window next to his seat. You were thankful more than anything he didn’t snore. He had already changed into his tuxedo for the night, it bunched up at his chest while he slouched against it. Someone, somewhere in high society would have cried at the sight.

You and Rex hadn’t changed yet. Rex exclaimed that he wanted to remain a free man as long as possible, and you thought it would be more exciting to dress up closer to landing time. Your stomach was already starting to twist unpleasantly each time the pilot announced the amount of time until arrival. It was similar to your first mission, fresh, and unfamiliar. A good portion of your stomach aches revolved around glances to the other side of the plane at your teammate. After the conversation had died down, he hadn’t looked in your direction once. You would have felt hurt by it, wondered if he was starting to hate you again. But it felt too charged, too intentional. The old Rex wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot a glare in your direction. This was nothing like that.

You would glance over at him from time to time, his gaze was on his lap, and had been for almost an hour, his hands clasped together, left thumb tapping the tip of his right one. You were positive he could see you somewhat, because every time you looked over his jaw clenched.

We will be making our descent in forty-five minutes.

“I’m gonna get dressed.” You whisper so as to not wake up Zandale while rising out of your seat. Rex practically jumps out of his seat at the broken silence.

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

What was that? “Are you okay?” You grab the garment bag containing your dress, and the shoe box next to it from the overhead rack.

Rex nods, letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, obviously, I just forgot you were here.”

“You forgot I was here?” You raised a brow, holding the garment bag over your shoulder as you turned to look at him.

“What? I’ve got a lot on my mind. Whole…mission and everything.”

“Okay, weirdo.” You laugh, moving towards the nose of the plane where the restroom is located.

Once inside, you pulled the dress out. It was a silky material- well, it probably was silk now that you thought about it. You would have to thank Donald for whatever strings he had pulled to make it your favorite color. The dress was sleeveless, with a mock neckline. It was fairly simple, the end of the dress reached down to your ankles. The shoes had a few inches of heel to them, which made you hope there would not be any hitches in the night, as you’d have to ditch them the moment you needed to sprint anywhere.

After getting it all situated and neatly folding your streetwear you started to pull the zipper up on the back of your dress, only for it to get to a point on your back you couldn’t reach.

A few beats of silence passed before you tried reaching your hand over your shoulder to get it, with no success.

You were not going to be able to do it on your own. How had women for decades zipped their dresses alone? Should you take it off, zip it, and try to pull it over your head? If it ripped in any way you were royally screwed. With a defeated sigh, you grabbed your stuff, put your hand out towards the door, and slowly pushed it up.

Rex was standing in the aisle, pushing his show box back into the overhead space. He had gotten dressed at the same time as you. Got dressed is a loose way of putting it. If someone could spin their way into clothing, you imagine they would look like Rex did now.

“You’re going to wrinkle it.” You put your things down in the first seat you walked by, straightening out the front of your dress absentmindedly as you made your way to him.

“I don’t think the shoes are going to wrinkle-” Rex started with a scoff before he closed his mouth from the scathing look you gave him and…something else.

“The suit, jackass.” You try not to smile, as you finally reach him. “This is supposed to be buttoned- you missed one of your shirt buttons.” You point out, the end of his dress shirt lopsided at the bottom. “Your shirt is also meant to be tucked in. Didn’t you see how Zandale looked?” You hold your hands out offering to help but he brushes you off, undoing his shirt himself with a groan.

“Since when were you two on a first-name basis?” He mumbled, working his way down them.

“Since I started treating him like a human being, so always.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms as you wait for him to catch up.

Did you forget he was, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, completely and totally built? No. You had seen his torso before, you had spent the better part of a half-hour with your hand pressed to it, healing him after a wound you had inflicted. But this wasn’t like that time. Then, you had been focused on the shame you had felt for causing the injury in the first place. Now, you were a bystander. Waiting to tell him how to properly wear his suit.

At first, you watched him, the way his hands flexed with each button. How the white linen of his shirt accented his chest underneath, which was becoming more and more visible. The way his chest rose and fell subtly with each inaudible huff. You eventually had to look away, determined to look at anything that wasn’t the warm tone of his skin.

His hands caught slightly on the last button, and he muttered something about ‘not having to put up with this shit’ as if he wasn’t the one to put it on wrong in the first place. “So, I just-?” He started from the bottom, lining each hole up to its corresponding button. He paused after a few, glancing up at you as if checking he was doing it right.

“Yep.” Your voice cracked in the worst way, forcing you to clear your throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Have you never worn a button-up?” Anything to get your mind off the fact you were blushing right now based on how warm you were feeling.

“You don’t really get the opportunity much in this business. Only time it’s ever come up was for funerals. The only one I’ve ever considered going to was for the old GDA director. But I didn’t end up going so…” He pauses for a moment, his thumb rubbing a few times over the material. “This good?” He asks, holding his hands up so you can see.

“Yeah, that’s good.” You respond softly. “Now you’ve got to tuck it in.” A breath passes as he does as you say. “What was he like?” You aren’t sure if you should ask, but you do any ways.

He stops what he’s doing and looks up at you. Making direct eye contact for the first time since your wave earlier. “The director?” A small look of confusion spreads over his features, clearly not thinking you would ask further.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard anything about him.” You tighten your arms closer over your torso, nibbling on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, well-” He continues tucking his shirt in, “He was, well he was an asshole is what he was. If you think Cecil is uncaring, you should have seen Director Radcliffe.”

Even from the way Rex called him by his title rather than his first name like Cecil, you could feel the difference in relationship. “Were you around him a lot?”

“Yeah.” Rex said softly. “Okay, so I button this up then or do I leave it open?” He gestured to his suit vest.

You file away that conversation for later, not wanting to push him further than he was comfortable with. “Yes, you button that.”

“Do I tuck it in?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

“Wait, where’s your tie?”

Rex looks around for a moment, his hands suspended out partially as he looks around. “It was…ah, here.” He holds it up triumphantly after grabbing it from where it lay crumpled a few seats down. It was the exact same shade as your dress, in the same silky texture. You wanted to sigh. You were going to look like prom dates.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how to tie it?”

Rex looks down at it for a split second before looking back at you. “Do I really need it?”

“Yes. You will stand out immediately. This whole thing is supposed to be undercover, remember?” You hold your hand out for him to hand it to you.

“You know how to tie it?” He looks at you with suspicion, as if you’re trying to pull a fast one.

“Yes, now will you let me help you?” He looks down at it for a moment, then begrudgingly gives it. “I learned in the hospital, I had this one patient who never let me heal him, but he always wanted to wear a tie.” You start as you signal for him to bend down, he does so without convincing and you hook it around his neck, angling it so it would rest under his upturned collar. “He never wore a suit or anything, but he insisted on wearing one over his gown. The first day I was there, I had no clue. He got really mad, huffed, puffed, the whole act. Told me he never wanted to see me again unless I learned how to tie a tie.” You looped it, “When I got back to my apartment, I was so frustrated. I swore I was going to quit at the hospital, quit with Cecil, everything. I was scared to join the Guardians, and I didn’t think I was ready-”

“You were scared to join the Guardians?” Rex interrupted; a quick glance up revealed that he was staring at you intently. You returned your eyes to your work, ignoring the rekindled heat that spread across your face.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyways, I was so mad. I picked up my phone to call Cecil, I was done. And then I got distracted. I opened a tutorial on how to tie a tie, then another. And soon enough I had watched way more than I needed, and I was sure if I tried again I could do it.”

“And did you?”

“No.” You laughed, “I screwed it up immediately, and he threw his Jello at me.”

“Jesus, really?”

You nodded. “And then I went back the next day and tried again, and the same the day after that. Until one day I did it right. He never thanked me or acknowledged the times before, but slowly he started telling me about his life. His wife who passed away a few years ago, his children that didn’t know where he was. Everything. I used to look forward to seeing him.” You finished tying it, but you didn’t let go quite yet.

“Do you still see him?” Rex’s voice came out soft, you could feel his words against your face.

“He died.” It was short, simple, but not sweet. Bitter reality. “He had stage four leukemia, even if he had let me heal him it wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t fix stuff like that.” You folded down his collar, your fingers lingering over it. You could feel his body heat just below the fabric.

“Did you go to his funeral?” You looked up at that. His gaze wasn’t on you but shifted to the side. You weren’t sure what response he was looking for, or why he asked, but you answered.

“No.” It was a quiet response, uttered so soft he could hardly hear, even from his close proximity. He met your gaze, searching it quietly. And you let him, staring right back.

Five minutes to arrival.

The pilot’s voice jarred you both, causing you to let go of his tie, and remove your fingers from his collar. The sudden interruption sent Rex back into a fully upright position, rather than the slouch he had been partaking in for your ease. He shoved the tie under his suit vest and straightened out the jacket.

“How do I look?”

You held your hand up in a spinning motion and he did a quick turn. “You clean up pretty well. Almost looks like you weren’t in the hospital a few days ago.” He looked good, so good you didn’t want to keep looking at him. This almost qualified as torture.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling from the depth of it. Just that small detail made your stomach flip. You needed to get this under control-

Oh, right, your dress. “Rex, can you actually help me with his?”

He nods, waiting for you to do something but you just stand there. Shit, you should have just risked ripping the damn thing. “It’s my dress. I can’t get it zipped.”

“Oh.” He blinks a few times. “Your dress has been unzipped this whole time?”

“I got it part of the way, so it’s not falling off or anything, calm down.” You tried to joke but your palms were sweating. If anyone needed to calm down, it was you. All you were doing was asking for a zip, pull yourself together. After checking that he was still waiting to help, you shake out your hands at your sides and then turn so he can do what you’ve asked. “Hopefully you’re better at zipping than buttoning.” The chuckle that follows your words is dry.

“I think I can manage.” His voice is low, and you can feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck, causing you to suppress a shiver. You should have asked Bulletproof, woken him up, or something. You can feel his fingertips press lightly into your back as he holds the two sides together so that his other hand can pull up the zipper. The contact itself gives you goosebumps, every thought you can conjure now that isn’t about the feel of him is praying that he doesn’t notice. “I think you’re set.”

“Thanks, Rex.” His hands don’t leave your back in haste, his left hand brushing over your exposed shoulder blade. You turn a notch, looking at him against your better judgment.

He clears his throat and puts his hands down. “You’re set.”

“You said that already.” You smile, mildly confused.

He stares at you again, expression unreadable, and his jaw ticking like before. Then, he steps back. “Someone’s got to wake sleeping beauty.” His previous expression fades and is replaced by one of mischief, as he tips over to where Bulletproof is. Fully intending to scare him awake.

The plane eventually landed, and the three of you talked about your game plans, which ended up just being ���don’t be suspicious, mingle-’ pretty self-explanatory.

“Where are we?” You were looking out the window, your fingers splayed out around it as you leaned down. There were other planes around you, but from the way you were angled, you couldn’t see the airport.  

Both of the guys shrugged, helpful as always. You moved to the nose of the plane where the pilot had already opened up the door.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Rex followed up close behind you.

“We landed in the backyard.”

Rex looked out at the other planes lined up next to you and then over at the looming mansion. “What the fuck?”

Author's Note: Rex is so yapper boyfriend core. Guys tell me what color’s your dresses and Rex’s tie is :3

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul request to be tagged for new parts!

[1bisschenmelancholie]

The Night Didn’t End, It Just Got Quieter

⋆˚࿔ emily prentiss x jennifer jareau / jj

jj texts her late. emily shows up anyway. the rain gets louder. so do the things they don’t say. wine, blankets, almosts. they wake up with coffee and something real.

⋆˚࿔ a/n: they are SO cute

The storm started around nine.

It was just a whisper at first—air thickening, clouds rolling in like an uninvited thought. But by the time Emily pulled up to JJ's place, the sky had cracked open like something furious, and rain hit the windshield in heavy, uneven sheets.

She didn't bring an umbrella. She also didn't turn the car off right away.

The dashboard glowed. The engine hummed. She sat there, staring at JJ's porch light through the blur of water, wondering if she was being stupid. This wasn't planned. JJ had texted her earlier with something like, "Weird night. You up?" and Emily hadn't thought twice before answering "Always."

Which wasn't true.

But she came anyway.

—

JJ opened the door in a hoodie and leggings, barefoot, blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. She looked like someone trying to appear fine.

"You always knock like that?" she asked.

Emily looked down. Her knuckles were wet.

"I thought I was going to drown on your porch."

JJ stepped aside. "You could've texted."

"You said you were up."

"I didn't say I'd open the door for drowned rats."

Emily cracked a smile. "Too late now."

JJ's place was warm—small, lived-in. Blankets thrown across the couch, lights dim, candles burning low like the power might go out. The thunder rolled again, soft this time, but close. JJ flinched just a little. Barely noticeable.

Emily noticed.

—

JJ handed her a towel.

"You okay?" Emily asked, casually, like the question didn't mean anything.

JJ shrugged. "Storm just makes the house feel louder."

Emily didn't push it.

JJ disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something about wine. Emily shed her jacket, toed off her boots, and stood in the living room like she'd never been here before—even though she had.

Once.

Last fall. After a case that hit too hard. They hadn't even spoken much then. Just a movie, blankets, Emily falling asleep with JJ's shoulder against her own.

She remembered the exact shape of that silence.

JJ returned with two glasses and a bottle that didn't bother with labels.

"Red or... red?"

Emily took a glass. "Living dangerously."

JJ raised hers in mock salute. "Welcome to the danger zone."

They clinked.

—

It was easy at first.

They curled up on the couch like it was instinct—Emily's legs tucked under her, JJ wrapped in that god-awful plaid throw she refused to get rid of. They didn't talk about work. They didn't talk about Doyle. They didn't talk about the things Emily still dreamed about.

They talked about Garcia's new glasses, about Rossi dating someone with a yacht, about Henry's obsession with dinosaurs.

Every now and then, thunder cracked again, and JJ would stiffen just slightly, fingers tightening around her glass.

Emily pretended not to notice. Until she didn't.

"You alright?"

JJ tried to brush it off with a smile. "It's stupid."

"Try me."

JJ looked at her glass. "I've hated storms since I was a kid."

Emily nodded. "Not stupid."

"I know it's not real danger. It just... feels like it."

Emily didn't say anything. She just moved her hand—casual, quiet—and let her fingers brush against JJ's knee where the blanket had slipped. Just enough pressure to say I'm here. Nothing more.

JJ didn't pull away.

—

By the second glass of wine, the tension had changed.

It wasn't gone. It was just... different. Heavier. Quieter. The kind that sits under your ribs and makes you breathe differently.

Emily's arm was still pressed to JJ's. Their legs touched now—bare skin brushing every time someone shifted. No one moved too far. The wine bottle sat between them like a loaded question.

"You know," JJ said, voice lower, "you don't have to come running every time I text."

Emily didn't answer right away. She looked over. JJ's face was soft in the stormlight—shadowed, backlit by candles. Her expression unreadable.

"I don't mind running," Emily said.

JJ let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh.

"I just mean—" she started, but didn't finish.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "What?"

JJ shook her head. "You're hard to talk to sometimes."

Emily tilted her head. "That's rich coming from you."

JJ gave her a look—half annoyed, half amused—and pushed at her shoulder. Just a playful little nudge.

But her hand stayed there.

Resting on Emily's upper arm.

Neither of them commented on it.

—

Another thunderclap hit, louder this time. JJ visibly flinched.

Emily shifted. "Here," she said, already moving before she thought too hard about it.

She pulled JJ in gently, letting her lean against her chest, arm wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn't planned. It just was.

JJ didn't resist.

In fact—she melted into it.

Emily could feel her heartbeat, fast and real under the sweatshirt. Could smell her shampoo. Could feel JJ's breath where it hit her collarbone. JJ was curled into her like this had happened a hundred times before. But it hadn't.

Not once.

"You okay?" Emily murmured.

JJ nodded against her. "You're warm."

Emily smiled into her hair. "Don't tell anyone."

JJ didn't move. "I won't if you don't."

And then she laughed—quiet, soft, a little shaky.

Emily felt her chest twist.

She didn't say anything else.

But she didn't let go either.

—

They stayed like that for longer than either of them realized.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the storm. Maybe it was years of almosts finally pushing forward like the rain pressing against the windows.

But then Emily shifted again. Not away—toward. Just slightly. Just enough.

Her hand brushed along JJ's side, fingers slipping under the hem of the sweatshirt without really meaning to. Warm skin. A breath caught.

JJ looked up.

And for the first time all night, the silence between them wasn't soft. It was charged.

Emily blinked, caught mid-movement.

"Sorry," she said, barely audible.

JJ didn't say anything. Just held her gaze.

Then she whispered, "You don't have to be."

Emily didn't move—not yet. The moment hung there, like a single held note. JJ was so close. Her breath was warm. Her mouth was parted just slightly. All it would take was one more inch. One choice.

But then JJ's phone buzzed.

Loud. Shrill. Ugly against the quiet of the moment.

She jumped, startled, pulling back just a fraction as thunder cracked again outside.

Emily exhaled, slow.

JJ fumbled for her phone and blinked down at the screen. "It's Garcia."

Emily didn't say anything. She just leaned back on the couch, hands falling into her lap like she needed somewhere to put the tension.

JJ answered with a voice that was far too casual. "Hey, Pen."

On speaker.

"Jayje," Garcia chirped. "Hi. Okay, sorry, I know it's late—but are you alive? You sent me one weird text earlier and then fell off the map. I was about two minutes from hacking a security cam."

"I'm fine. Just... home."

"Alone?"

JJ glanced at Emily, whose mouth quirked just slightly.

"Yes."

Garcia paused. "Are you lying?"

Emily grabbed her wine glass. JJ kicked her shin under the blanket.

"I'm fine, Penelope."

"Okay, okay. Just checking. But if you are doing anything fun, please, I beg you—hydrate. Stretch. Pace yourselves."

JJ groaned. "Goodnight, Garcia."

"Nighty-night, my suspiciously cagey blonde."

The call ended.

Silence again.

Emily raised her glass. "That was subtle."

JJ laughed, still flushed. "She knows everything."

Emily smiled, but her eyes didn't leave her. "Does she know you flinch every time it thunders?"

JJ looked away, just for a second. "Maybe."

Emily stood up slowly, stretching. Her shirt rode up just slightly, and JJ definitely looked. She tried not to.

"You want something warm?" Emily asked. "Tea?"

JJ blinked. "You make tea?"

"No. But I know where you keep it."

JJ followed her to the kitchen.

⸻

The kitchen was narrow and dimly lit, soft yellow light under the cabinets glowing like something from a dream. The storm still rumbled low outside, but here—everything felt like it had stilled.

JJ leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Emily fumble through a cupboard.

"You've been here once and you still know where everything is?"

Emily glanced over her shoulder. "I remember things."

JJ smiled. "So do I."

That made Emily turn.

The tea forgotten.

JJ didn't move. She was still leaning against the counter, eyes unreadable but bright. Her voice was quieter now.

"You were going to kiss me earlier."

Emily stepped forward, slowly.

JJ's arms dropped to her sides.

"I still could," Emily said, voice low.

JJ's breath caught. "Yeah?"

Emily nodded once.

And this time—this time JJ met her halfway.

The kiss wasn't tentative. It wasn't soft.

It was everything they'd been trying not to say.

JJ's hands found Emily's waist. Emily pushed her gently back into the counter, her palms bracing against it on either side of JJ's hips. Their mouths moved in tandem—hungry, slow, real. JJ gasped when Emily tilted her head and deepened the kiss, her fingers digging into Emily's shirt like she was afraid she might disappear.

They kissed like people who knew each other too well.

Who had waited too long.

Emily pulled back for half a second just to look at her—eyes half-lidded, lips pink and parted, breathing uneven.

JJ whispered, "Don't stop."

Emily kissed her again.

They shifted—sideways, laughing into each other's mouths when JJ bumped the drawer handle with her hip. JJ tugged Emily closer, wrapping an arm around her neck, her other hand sliding up into her hair. The kiss turned messier, deeper, edged with all the wanting they hadn't named.

Emily pressed her hand to JJ's side—just under the hem of the sweatshirt again—and this time, JJ didn't flinch. She arched into it.

Thunder cracked. JJ stilled for a second.

Emily pulled back just enough to murmur, "I'm here."

JJ nodded. Her voice broke when she whispered, "I know."

Emily kissed her cheek. Her jaw. Her mouth again.

And this time, JJ didn't hold anything back.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever—pressed together in the glow of a too-small kitchen, mouths finding each other again and again like they were afraid to stop.

And maybe they were.

—

Eventually, Emily rested her forehead against JJ's, both of them flushed and breathless and still holding on.

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing," Emily said quietly.

JJ's eyes flickered open. "It's not."

Emily smiled. "Okay."

JJ smiled back, fingers still tangled in her shirt. "You're still making tea, though."

Emily laughed. "I forgot the kettle."

"You were distracted."

"Yeah," Emily said. "I was."

And then, because she couldn't help herself—she kissed her one more time.

Slower now.

Surer.

Because now, finally... they both knew.

—

The storm was gone by morning.

Not all the way—just faded. Like a voice in the next room. The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving everything damp and quiet, the kind of soft grey light that made the world feel slower.

Emily woke up to the smell of coffee.

She was alone on the couch. Barely. Her sweatshirt was rumpled. The blanket that had been draped over JJ's shoulders last night was now half on the floor, half wrapped around her legs. Her neck ached in the good kind of way.

Voices in her head murmured things like What did we just do?

But louder than that was: Thank god we finally did.

She sat up, ran a hand through her hair, and stood. Her socks slipped on the hardwood a little, and when she padded into the kitchen, JJ was there—back to her, hair wet, a different hoodie now, humming softly as she poured two mugs.

Emily leaned against the doorframe.

"You always make coffee like this for your guests?"

JJ glanced over her shoulder, startled—then smirked. "Only the ones who sleep on my couch after making out with me in the kitchen."

Emily grinned, stepping in closer. "Good to know."

JJ slid her a mug. "Still warm."

Emily took it, their fingers brushing. Too long to be accidental.

JJ didn't pull away.

Neither did Emily.

For a minute, they stood like that—mugs in hand, barely touching, soft light painting shadows over everything. Neither of them was fully awake. But it didn't matter.

"You okay?" JJ asked eventually, her voice lower now.

Emily looked at her over the rim of her mug. "Better than okay."

JJ gave her a small smile. "Me too."

A pause.

"You stayed," JJ added.

"You didn't ask me to leave."

"I didn't want to."

Emily nodded once. "Then I won't."

They sat at the table, legs brushing. Quiet filled the space between their words, but it was the good kind now. Full of possibility.

"I'm scared," JJ said after a while.

Emily looked up. "Of this?"

"No. Of me. Of what I do when I'm scared."

Emily reached across the table, covered her hand. "Then we take it slow. Okay?"

JJ met her eyes.

"Okay."

They both smiled.

And just like that—it wasn't a maybe anymore.

It was something.

And it had already started.

[mywritesaremylove]

Opposites Attract

Steve Rogers x Mutant!Reader

If anyone were placing bets on who Steve Rogers might fall for, it wouldn’t be her.

She was sharp-tongued and unapologetically blunt. A combat specialist with mutation-enhanced reflexes and a volatile temper, she didn’t believe in sugarcoating, hand-holding, or second chances. Steve, on the other hand, was Captain America—living, breathing virtue with a shield. The golden retriever of the team. He called people “ma’am” and “sir” even when they were actively trying to kill him.

So when Nat caught them making out in the quinjet once, she had to do a double-take. “You’re dating her?” she asked him, one eyebrow raised halfway to the sky. “She told Tony to choke on his ego yesterday.” “She’s got a point,” Steve replied with a shrug and a secretive smile.

It wasn’t obvious. They didn’t hold hands in the tower or sit next to each other at briefings. Steve respected privacy; she hated unnecessary attention. But the signs were there if you looked close enough. The way her gloved fingers lingered on his shoulder after a mission. How his gaze tracked her across the training floor, all soft affection when she wasn’t looking. How she only let him calm her down when her powers threatened to spiral.

She snapped at people. She didn’t do small talk. But she melted—quietly, grudgingly—when Steve brought her coffee just the way she liked it. She once barked at Sam to stop hovering after he got injured, only for Steve to wrap an arm around her waist later and murmur, “You worried about him.” She scowled. “I was worried he’d bleed on my boots.” He kissed her temple. “Sure you were.”

No one could figure it out. Why he, with all his earnest charm and Boy Scout energy, was with the woman who once told Fury to “come back with something useful or don’t come back at all.”

But behind closed doors, she softened. Not in the weak way people assumed, but in the kind of way that let Steve hold her in the dark after a bad dream. In the kind of way that let her lean on him when the weight of the world and her own power got too loud.

They were fire and steel. Soft and sharp. And somehow, impossibly, it worked.

“People think we don’t make sense,” she said one night, curled up on the couch beside him, her head against his chest.

Steve smiled, brushing his fingers through her hair. “They don’t have to understand it. We do.”

She smirked. “Damn right.”

And that was enough.

[whereserpentswalk]

Body swaps are commonplace. It's been that way for awhile. They first figured out the method to do it during the second world war. And it was a key way that spies infiltrated enemy nations for much of the cold war. Though by the late nineties it was so commonplace that most people would swap at least once in their life.

Sometimes the very poor, if they were young and fit and attractive, would sell their bodies to those who could afford them. There's laws cracking down on permanently swapping bodies for money, but it still happens just in subtler ways then it did in the 2000s. A young healthy man in need of money might find himself swapping with a rich old man for a small fortune, as a sort of deal with the devil. Useally under the assumption that he'd get a better body for himself someday.

Of course, there's more mundane and temporary ways people swap bodies for jobs. Actors for example, almost always use body swaps to get the right look nowadays. An good, well trained actor will be swapped into someone with the right look for the part when they get on set or on stage, and then swap back when they clock out. Militaries do the same thing, swapping their best trained soldiers into the bodies of their strongest and fittest, useally having a separate "trained core" and "body core".

Of course, if someone dies while they're swapped there's no getting your body back. There's rumor of an aged Shakespeare trained actress who body swapped into the body of a young model for a movie, who deliberately orchestrated the death of the model while she was in her body so she could permanently take her body as her own.

Body swapping has also done wonders for the trans community. Most binary trans people don't even try to medically transition anymore, as swapping with a trans person of the opposite agab is the easiest way to transition. There's also subcultures on the more nonbinary and gender fluid side of things who trade around bodies with eachother, modifying them as almost a sort of shared recourse. Of course, none of this has made bigots more accepting, if anything people are even more paranoid that someone they're talking to could have been born into a different sex now that people can so perfectly transition.

Racial issues have also been changed by body swapping. There's controversy amoung both the openly racist and the anti racist over if and when it's ok to swap with another race, and being in another race's body makes you that race. Not to mention there are some people of color who try way too desperately to swap into white bodies, and then the vast plurality of those communities who consider it a sort of treasonous act. Quite recently the son of a South Korean billionaire payed nearly two million dollars to have a body he got from a British expat, causing the country's government to officially condemn paid body swaps.

It's also made crime harder the trace. It's very hard to prove you did something even if there's video evidence of you doing it, as it could easily be someone else in your body. It tends to be when the powerful get caught for crimes this is a good enough excuse. Though for the poor it's often been used to explain why they're being changed for crimes committed by people who looked nothing like them, or crimes that happened when they were confirmed to be in another place.

It's all so commonplace now. Most people have a signature way of dressing, and often a type of mask they wear over their face just because it's easier then relying on bodies to identify people. You're used to knowing people who used to have different bodies for whatever reason. You know a pair of fraternal twins who grew up swapping with eachother so often they don't even really think about whose body belongs to who. You know someone who swapped bodies in his freshmen year of college with his ex boyfriend and never saw his original body again. It's just how the world is now.

[picckl]

myvur lore drop? 👀

I'm so sorry it took me a bit to get to this, i had to properly prepare to talk about him as fully as i can-

Myvur, full name Myvurton Wise'ferth Belesseau III, is a half-elf, half-halfling wild magic sorcerer who i play in a campaign called Eclipse. He looks like this:

Myvur is heir to the Belesseau household- the second most powerful household in Thuun’velia, the Pelorist empire and a very powerful faction in the world the campaign takes place in. Pelorism in this campaign is, to put it kinda simply, really bad, a kind of christo-facism situation where they're the ruling class and currently in charge, and very keen on making sure everyone follows their really morally questionable religion. Myvur II, his father, runs/owns the capital city due to their ancestor being a saint. His father looks like this:

(and the family crest)

Despite Myvur not being the eldest in his family, he's still the heir, due to the fact he's the oldest male member who looks like his half-elf father (and the original Saint Myvur), leading him to carry on the family name. NOT due to any actual personal talants- he's good at the violin, and he's good at reading, but growing up he really sucked at magic, public speaking, and pretty much everything being heir entailed despite trying really really hard to live up to the expectations set for him. Part of that was just his own different talents, and also the fact that he's a lot more mellow and nervous than the rest of his family with actual emotions in his heart, regardless of how he's tried to stamp it out.

To put it without spoilers for my party- wizard college and shit parents with expectations you've never been able to meet despite your need to impress them don't mix, and Myvur got desperate and did something stupid and now he's stuck with a lot of very old, very powerful space magic bottled up inside him (hense the wild magic sorcerer). He does not know how to deal with this space magic. His family did not know how to deal with the space magic. Bad times all around, especially when it causes him to occasionally trigger things called "arcane spasms", bursts of strong magic he's not in full control of, which either result in something being blown up or him turning into his Moon Beast form, a thing that looks like this:

The campaign has been about 3 months of in-game time, which Myvur has spent learning that hey, Pelorism isn't the top of religions and actually taking over small towns and forcing them all to convert while ruining their day to day lives ISN'T cool, and that it's ok to feel weird about the numerous executions your dad brought you to, and your family is very hated both within and outside the city they run. Also got to learn his dad killed another player character's dad, and that altogether his family's actions have affected everyone Really Badly and maybe even him as well, a thought he hasn't really let himself think about up until this point. So far, some notable actions of his have included:

Blowing up a long-standing family friend on accident thru an arcane spasm bc she was threatening his life if he didn't tell her where his friends were, after going undercover and living with her for the past week to try and get information out of her by reading her mind. Something that certainly won't stick with him (he cast 2nd level shatter and critted, she had NPC stats, and was kinda pulverized)

Found out his dad executed his best friend's dad. And then had to break the news to them that their dad was dead. A scene which caught most of the party off guard bc THE OTHER CHARACTER'S PLAYER DIDN'T KNOW THAT THEIR FATHER HAD BEEN KILLED

Found out the god he follows is not only generally hated in a lot of different areas, he's also actually killed at least one other god for no good reason, and might not be as kind and open as Myvur always wanted to believe

He's a very compelling character to play, just in the way it's really fun unpacking and changing the very centeralized views he has on everything and unlearning those and a lot of the other behaviors he has. He has a lot of genuine care in his heart and this is the first time he's been able to show it and he makes me very sad. Myvur the guy that you are

(I'll elaborate on this all more of course, but right now this is what the party knows, and most of them follow me on here. Also his artfight profile can be found here!)

[chrisspirategirl]

Insta post(s) of y/n & Chris!!

From ‘stream’

@chrisspirategirl

@ y/nsdigitaldiary

Liked by christophersturniolo, nicolassturniolo, user7394839 and 3.45k others

Y/n 🦄 Saw this dude in the middle of a Walmart aisle and took him home with me, idk he looked kinda cool. What should I name him? (Talking about the guy on the right not Trevor he’s tuff)

276 comments

nicholassturniolo This is actually sending me.

^ y/nsdigitaldiary

@ nicholassturniolo 😛😛

matthew.sturniolo Idk maybe you should return him..

^ y/nsdigitaldiary

@ matthew.sturniolo Dare I say this made me giggle.

^ christophersturniolo

@ matthew.sturniolo You wanna be funny so bad 😐😐😐

christophersturniolo Why am I so sexy 😭😭✌️❤️

^ y/nsdigitaldiary

@ christophersturniolo Alright buddy…

User Wondering how Chris even pulled y/n.

^ User

@ user No cause same.

User aww look at y/n! She’s already helping out for charity 🫶

^ christophersturniolo

@ user This is absurd. Delete this comment NOW.

^ user

@ christophersturniolo Bro didn’t like that

User Love supporting small creators ❤️

User On some serious shit y/n is my irl wife, like, look at her being so kind helping the homeless that’s my woman!!

^ christophersturniolo

@ user You guys are stepping over a line. She’s MY wife let’s get that right 😒

^ user

@ christophersturniolo oh who is YOU 😐

^ user

@ christophersturniolo Oh boy here he comes.

^ y/nsdigitaldiary

@ user I giggled at this.

Christophersturniolo Alright yall need to chill with this y/n is your guys’s 😒 yall are behind a screen and im laying in HER BED WITH HER IN IT let that sink it 🤣🫵

^ y/nsdigitaldiary

@ christophersturniolo I’m letting it in.

^ user

@ christophersturniolo Boi you just warming up my spot! Tell her I’m almost there 😒

^ user

@ user SHEDDING tears

^ user

@ user I love you online bitches

^ user

@ user Hate when a mf funnier than me.

^ natthebat

@ user Same 😐😐😐💔✌️

Hey so I might be shadowbanned on here I don’t even know but I wanted to try something out sorry it’s only one but if you guys would want more I’ll be happy to make some more again this is just an experiment!

Dividers —> @bernardsbendystraws

Tags 🏷️ @courta13 @heartsonlyforchris

[kotoku]

the touden party with a teen! reader

content - family dynamic / found family / nothing but platonic fluff! / a sprinkle of angst?

pairings - laios touden & reader / chilchuck tims & reader / marcille donato & reader / senshi & reader / izutsumi & reader

warnings - none!

disclaimer - some short headcanons just to get back into the swing of things :)

word count - 1k

✤✤✤✤

✢ Laios would honestly adopt you as his little sibling, treating you akin to Falin (protecting you, rambling to you, doting on you…)

✢ After the party loses Falin, he’d grow very protective of you– not wanting to lose you like his sister

✢ Laios can be a bit dense when it comes to the wonders of puberty/adolescence (it’s been a bit), so he just needs a little time to understand and find a way to support you

✢ I feel that Laios would start to become so protective of you that you might get into a small argument, he’s just worried though! (how could he not?)

✢ However, after watching you fight tooth and nail in the dungeon and talking with him (courtesy of Senshi, Marcille, and Chilchuck bringing you two togther), he’d let up and not worry as much

✢ Laios would ramble about monster facts, formulate new potential recipes, and complain about Marcille’s teachings to you

✢ You’d also help Laios with understanding people better, or at the very least, reading the room (nudging him into the right approach when needed)

✢ All in all, a very supportive relationship!

✤✤✤✤

✢ Great, another brat for him to take care of sigh 

✢ Regardless, Chilchuck still watches over you from afar, even if he doesn’t want to admit it

✢ He deosn’t want to show his worry or concern for your wellbeing, so if you do something risky or dangerous, half of him wants to help and scold you while the other half stays quiet with restrained fear (even if you’re twice his size)

✢ At some point, this facade cracks and he ends up dumping all of his feelings into the open– about how he thinks you should leave the party and find yourself a stable job uptop, ect…

✢ Chilchuck, just as he is with his daughters, takes care of you in his own ways 

✢ He’s almost like a stern father, lecturing you about safety and interpersonal relationships within a party

✢ You just roll your eyes and go along with, knowing he means well and wants the best for you

✢ I feel that he’d be protective but not as protective as Laios and Marcille, he knows when to give you space

✢ Although Chilchuck rarely says it, he does care about you very much and there is a gnawing fear that you’ll be heavily injured (or killed) while venturing with them into the dungeon 

✤✤✤✤

✢ Ahh Marcille.. where to begin?

✢ She’d take care of you as if you’re her sibling– gushing and fretting over you

✢ Like she does to Izutsumi, she’d help brush and style your hair, find new clothes that are a perfect match to you, and make sure you’re properly cared for

✢ Like Laios, she’d be super worried about you while venturing into the dungeon

✢ She has her healing magic/spells ready in case you get injured or bruised

✢ With you being a tall-man, Marcille can’t help but feel sad (and the creeping existential crisis) as she watches you grow throughout the journey

✢ However, sometimes it feels as if Marcille is the youngest of the two of you here, whining about how “gross” the recipes are and such

✢ Just as she does for you, you’d help take care of her as well, brushing her hair when she’s tired, feeding her spoonfulls of any dish Senshi makes, and tucking her into bed

✢ Despite Marcille’s clumsiness and quirky behaviors, you still care for her very much! (even if you don’t want to admit it)

✤✤✤✤

✢ He’d call you kid, youngin’, etc… no lie

✢ Senshi is pretty lenient with you but he knows when its time to step in to prevent you from doing anything rash

✢ Just as he does with everyone, he’d make sure you’re fed the necessary nutrients a teen like you needs for growing

✢ If you aren’t a fan of vegetables or fruits, he’d try to come up with a recipe that masks the taste

✢ The way you and Senshi spend time is by cooking together; he’d guide you every step of the way when it comes to harvesting ingredients, prepping them, and then cooking

✢ When you take it upon yourself to cook a dish using ingredients from the dungeon, he’d be very proud!

✢ That said, he’d also teach you the ways of the dungeon and how to preserve certain elements of it to maintain harmony

✢ Senshi is almost like a wise old grandpa to you!

✤✤✤✤

✢ It takes a while for her to come around as her upbringing was very different from yours

✢ You are likely helping her with her hygiene and health since she is unable to properly care for herself or eat her vegetables

✢ Considering the two of you are closer in age, I feel that Izutsumi would eventually find some similarities with you and confide in you about certain things

✢ Eventually, she’d grow comfortable and would tease or bicker with you a bit, getting into harmless fights and challenges (who can hunt down the most monsters, eat the most meat, etc…)

✢ You guys are basically siblings!!

𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙪𝙨!!

✤✤✤✤

✢ Again, like Laios and Marcile, she’d treat you as if you’re her younger sibling

✢ She’s not as protective as Laios and Marcille, but she still frets over you after confrontations in the dungeon

✢ Falin would enjoy helping you with any issues or concerns that come with growing up, considering you’re both tall-men and she has been through the changes that come with adolescence and early (early) adulthood

✢ Falin would enjoy gossiping with you from time to time, or just simply chatting with you during night watches and such

✢ If you’re having trouble sleeping, she’d help lull you to sleep through stories or humming tunes from her hometown

✢ Her presence is very comforting and you can always rely on her for support and respite

[belli5]

⌗ . ᵎᵎ ⸝⸝ My All .ᐟ ೀC.B⁹⁸

Connor meeting your parents for the first time, trying his best to impress them while you sit beside him, subtly squeezing his hand under the table to calm his nerves.

˚₊· ᥫ᭡ Connor Bedard x fem!reader ➜ Fluff. Note: Short and sweet. masterlist

You still remember the first time you saw him—not on the ice, ironically, but tucked into the corner of your favourite coffee shop near the Loop.

You’d lived in Chicago your entire life and never thought the quiet boy buried behind a hoodie and a laptop could possibly be him.

Not until you’d glanced again and recognised the subtle nervous smile, the soft blue eyes that looked up as you walked by with your chai latte.

It wasn’t long before conversation turned into connection, and before you knew it, you were sharing more than just your favourite hidden spots in the city. You were sharing life.

And now, somehow, he’s sitting across from your parents at your childhood dinner table, nervously tapping his fingers on his thigh, one by one, just like he always does when he’s overthinking.

You dad is cutting into his roast beef, already two questions in about Connor’s training schedule, and your mom is eyeing the way he holds his fork like she’s searching for signs of good manners and maybe, just maybe, what kind of son-in-law he might someday be.

You smile softly, your own plate forgotten, because you can feel the nerves radiating off him. Not because he’s unsure of himself, but because he cares. He cares about making good impression. About fitting into this part of your world.

So, without a word, you reach under the table and slide your hand into his. His breath hitches just slightly at the touch, and you feel the tension in his fingers ease as he laces them through yours.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t need to. Just that quiet gesture is enough.

“..I actually really love it here,” Connor says, finally answering your dad’s question about whether he likes Chicago. “I mean, I’m still getting used to the traffic, but the people, the energy.. it’s starting to feel like home.”

Your mom perks up at that. “And how did you two meet, again?”

You grin, squeezing Connor’s hand once more under the table. He laughs softly, glancing at you now, his nerves melting into the comfort of your smile.

“I was just trying to get a coffee,” he says. “She made fun of my order.”

“It was a vanilla iced latte in December,” you tease.

“She said I was ‘soft,’” he adds, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “She’s been bullying me ever since.”

Your mom laughs gently, eyes warm, while your dad raises a brow but smiles too. And you? You rest your cheek against your palm, just watching him—this boy you love, sitting in the same kitchen where you learned to walk and talk and navigate life.

Now he’s here, in your space, looking at your parents like their opinion truly matters. And they like him. You can feel it.

By dessert, you dad is asking about his favourite players growing up, your mom’s dishing out homemade pie like it’s a love language, and Connor’s sitting just a little straighter, hand still tucked into yours, thumb brushing gently across your knuckles.

When it’s time to clear the plates, he stands without being asked, already stacking dishes. Your mom gives you a knowing look as she watches him, and your dad actually says, “Good man,” under his breath when Connor offers to help dry.

Later, when you’re both back in the car, Connor exhales like he’s been holding his breath for the entire evening.

“Well?” He asks, glancing sideways at you. “Did I pass?”

You laugh, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek. “You didn’t just pass. You crushed it.”

His face flushes just a bit, and he looks down at the steering wheel, grinning.

“I still think about the day at cafe, you know,” he murmurs as he starts the car. “Never thought someone like you would stop for someone like me.”

You rest your hand on his knee, voice soft. “Connor.. you’re the best thing I’ve ever found here.”

And as the city lights blur by the window and his fingers find yours again, you realize that this moment—the two of you, hearts full and hands linked—is the beginning of something even bigger than home.

It’s the beginning of forever.

[twelveswood]

a princess of the people

SO the queen of AUs (@ishgard) decided to infect me with a what if for Dreyll...

I know I don't talk that much about characters and their stories and all that, a big part of that is just because I'm generally exhausted from my 9-5 dealing with the public that I don't really have the brain energy to get into those sorts of things... but I mean also definitely a part of myself that feels like no one would really care if I shared anyway, but that part of me is so wholly unimportant and irrelevant (and wrong, don't ever let that voice convince you otherwise). But boy it just. Makes it hard to want to put energy into stuff anymore. u_u

BUT anyway, Dreyll is an OC from an original world and she fits nicely into different worlds so I port her around all the time. There's only really one usual consistency which is that she's typically an orphan taken in by some nice old granny/grandpa and more or less has a happy upbringing in a small town, growing a sense of wonder that leads her to adventure.

The same is true here in XIV land where her "canon" is that she is adopted by a lalafellin couple, found abandoned on a trip between the shroud and Ul'dah. They mistake her for a miqo'te until she starts getting bigger and then it's just adorable silliness and she has a happy life, well loved, but always harbors a curiosity for what life might have been like otherwise, and if she has any family and all that. Usual stuff.

Well, Crow sprinkled a little 'what if she was taken in by Garleans actually' which is just hilarious, because I had sort of figured it was because of Garleans she winds up abandoned (parents either killed or knew they couldn't keep her safe and had to place her somewhere she would be found and picked up, granting her a much higher chance of survival).

But it is late and I am tired and need to sleep but anyway, I'm gonna be sitting in this stew a lil bit. If ur curious for more lmk and I'll try to formulate words about it. -w-

[komori18]

Blood Eclipse - LADS Vampire AU (prologue)

A/n: Hi everyone I’m here with a sort of prologue of a series I want to do on the lads boys as vampires but it might take a while to get this sorted cuz I’m dealing with terrible writing block so don’t be surprised it will take forever for another part to come out and I try to add more personality to (Y/N) cuz I wanted to and add more flavor to this series if I ever decide to continue this! And I’m sorry if my writing is extremely sloppy it’s been AGES since I written anything to the point I type this up all in one sitting! Anyways I hope you enjoy this piece of garbage content!

Word count: 1,114 words

Content warning: swearing, kidnapping?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was going to be one shot you said it was going to be one shot but look at where you at now you are now are lost I repeat fucking L.O.S.T in the middle of a forest that looks like a backdrop of a slasher movie in your mind you can’t help but wonder what inspired you to something so fucking stupid.

You sigh as you ran your hand through your hair as you recalled yesterday during lunch break in the stuffy lunch room at your local community college….

……………..

“Are you for real?” You curiously chimed with a hint of annoyance laced in your voice with your friends story about that rumor of there being a Victorian castle deep in the forest that’s right behind your college’s long barbed wire fence

Every time you hear this rumor you can’t help but roll your eyes at this.

“It has to be a good joke that someone made for shits and giggles” you always thought to yourself. You roll your eyes at your friends excitement over the stupidity of this rumor “Tana, I already heard about this rumor.” “Like, everyone has heard about this rumor by now.” “What’s so special about it?”

Your friend in question pouts at your answer at her expense “oh come (Y/N) your no fun at all!” “trust me, this rumor is really interesting!” You then leaned forward towards your friend trying to show any interest in her story to give her any benefit of the doubt that you’re not interested

Once you did you proceeded to fan your hand towards singling her to continue she lightly smirks at this “oh, interested?” “Keep talking or I’m gonna just leave” “okay…” your friend clears her friend all dramatic like and proceeds to line into you towards your ear and whisper

“There’s another part of the rumor. You see, some people witness someone that could be living in that castle that’s…not…𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗.”

……………….

And so you’re interested now in the rumors now all because your friend told you there could be a small or….well a BIG chance that something supernatural is living in that abandoned castle deep in the forest somewhere. And the reason why you wanted to do this? Is all because you want to get a unique shot of that so called supernatural being for your college class in photography and as well get some cool shots of the rumored castle as a bonus too.

And so thanks to some acquaintances you met in your classes you managed to snag a schedule of the night guards routes so you can avoid them during your own route to the fence

Once night fell you equipped yourself with your flashlight, backpack filled with your camera gear, snacks and if course the map of the forest and a marked trail of where to go to find the supposedly rumored castle

Before you knew it you made it to the fence you turn your head to the left and right to make sure no guards are around

“the coast is clear” you whispered under your breath with that you threw your backpack over the fence as well threw yourself over the fence too. Once on the other side of the fence you quickly picked up your backpack and threw it on your back and quickly walked towards the direction of your map that you made yesterday based on what your friend told you on where the castle could be. And so once you made it to the marked location you lowered your map to see…nothing,nothing,nothing but trees upon trees ahead you are so confused “huh? Odd…should it be here? Wait,Don’t tell me…” you then remembered what your friend told you in the middle of your excitement about this “hey, just warning this might not be the right location I gave you cuz the location always changes depends on who’s telling the story…”

You face palm yourself at this sudden moment of reflection “god…fucking…DAMMIT!!!

As you shout out your anger out in the air you hear the sound of frightened birds flying overhead probably away from you from startling them from your new founded frustration

“Great…just—fucking great I’m lost and have the wrong directions how am I going to get out of here?!” As you try to think your next action you then hear a different sound in the air

“Oh what now—oh huh is that a—

You confused out of your mind see a Bat flying in the air above your head “odd, I didn’t think we have bats in this area…?” Before you can think the bat in question flew towards you like a bird trying to get bread quickly you duck but —“hey!” The bat took the damn map your only way of sorta of getting back to the college campus in one piece if you sense of reading maps was good but what you knew it was elementary school level

So you run as fast as you can towards the flying bat that has your map hostage as you keep running you didn’t notice that the forest is all of a sudden lightning up as you ran by each section of trees like as if it was welcoming you

But all things considered that came to an end before you can reacted you tripped on a lose rock on the forest floor you landed on the floor of the forest rough knocking the wind out of your lungs as you tried to get air back into your lungs after the rough impact you see on the ground five shadows of figures you slowly look up to see five figures looking right at you

“Who…are…you?” You said while wheezing for air “Damn it” you think to yourself “I can’t see them due to how dark it is and my vision is fucking blurry due to my glasses falling off my face due to the impact” “I need to…” “get out of…here” before you can say another word you heard a sound of someone coming towards you it was one of the five figures. The figure put their hand on your right shoulder and proceeded to lean forward into your ear “Don’t worry sweetie. You’re in good hands”

“Huh? what do you mean”- you then feel your head going light and you start blacking out as your vision started to fade to black you hear the faint sound of chuckling around you and you then Felt your body being carried away to who knows where you try to fight it off but to no avail you passed out.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading and I hope you’re enjoying the rest of your day!

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

She is not me I REPEAT SHE IS NOT ME!!! DON'T TRUST ANYTHING SHE SAYS!!