"Life is a series of peaks and valleys." Ferdinand swung his arm out, fanning his hand haughtily. Really, what great relief it was, that time passes and the night leaks out between the maw of a bad faucet, yet here she was again. His entire demeanor, from ear to ear, had the lick of flame peeling back his layers, until he burned of a nostalgia that neither could ever return to. "Our reunion is, to my mind, the highest of peaks."
"Ha! And to think, where we once hailed as the echelon of Adrestia's foremost houses, we may one day return in a fashion that even summers will crave." And a beat. "I am... glad, really." Really, truly. So much so, he leaned into it. Like a song off a gallery seat, elbows pressed against the balcony sidebox to crane his whole body in.
"That you went through a time so difficult and pulled yourself out of the wreckage."
Where one flame buried bright, the other laid dormant among the ashes, the stray embers flickering a feeble sign of life. Difficult, he says. Their meeting, a highlight to be praised and admired above all else! Her flame appears at first to have died out - but with a snap, it erupts into something far more deadly.
"Oh, ever so thankful for the reminder!" She scoffs; "That the single most dreadful, embarressing day of my entire life can be summed to you up as 'difficult.' Certainly, the 'noblest of nobles' has dived in plenty of valleys of his very own, and has quite an understanding about how deep they can surely get!"
Her sneer lowers, and exhaustion hides behind the more serious tone her expression takes. "…I lost everything, you know. My title. My place. My family."
Briefly, she meets eye to eye - just as quickly, she pulls away. "So, if all if you've come to do is remind me of those failings, then I hardly see the need for us to discuss any further."
She pivots on her heel, a hand raised to signal a goodbye.
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contains: established relationship. secret relationship. female!reader. attending!reader. reader uses she/her pronouns. bisexual!dana. jealous!dana. fluff. flirting. teasing. suggestive themes. language. medical inaccuracies. MEN & MINORS DNI.
description: on your first day as the new ed attending at ptmc, you and your wife dance around the reveal of your relationship.
a/n: another fic from my 'cherry red kisses' event! the original ask can be found here, thank you to that anon for this request, i loved the idea ❤️ also for this sake of this fic, dana isn't super close to any of her coworkers bc otherwise they'd know who her wife is lol happy reading everyone, and let me know what you think! 🩺
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Dana strolls through the sliding doors of the emergency department as she's done countless times and enters the hustle and bustle of the day shift. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh brightness on the sterile linoleum floor, the faint scent of cleaning products lingering in the air.
The sound of beeping monitors and busy chatter of physicians and patients fill the space as the charge nurse scans the room, her gaze falling on the familiar faces of her colleagues busy with their own tasks and responsibilities.
She heads straight to the nurses' station, greeting her fellow nurses with a warm smile and a quick "Mornin'." Her sharp eyes flit to the schedule board, scanning the list of patients already checked in and waiting, planning out the day in her head.
Reaching for the closest tablet, she plucks her reading glasses from her shirt pocket and settles them low on her nose as she begins reading patient notes.
"...And coming back to our nurse's station—Oh, she's arrived!"
Dana looks up to find Dr. Al-Hashimi walking in her direction with a polite smile on her face as she's talking to someone beside her. Gaze shifting over, she sees it's the new doctor—you.
Her wife.
"Dana, I'd like you to meet our newest attending," Al-Hashimi starts.
Looking back towards you, she continues, "Since you've already met Lena, this is Dana Evans," she gestures to the older woman, "our day shift charge nurse."
Dana's gaze flicks from Al-Hashimi to you, a faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She adjusts her glasses slightly, shifting her weight as she looks at you and back to Baran.
"So they say," Dana greets you in her usual no-nonsense tone, her hand gesturing to the room around you three. "I hope you're ready for the chaos of our ED."
You nod at the other woman and cock your head just slightly, eyes dipping down to her lips before locking with hers.
"I'm sure I'll manage."
Al-Hashimi chuckles in confusion, not expecting the slight tension between you and the nurse.
"Right...Well, I have to go check on a patient now. Doctor, would you like to come with?"
"Sure, right behind you," you answer, but your gaze lingers on Dana for another second before trailing after the other attending, leaving the blonde to observe from the nurses' station as you walk away.
Dana can't help but let out a quiet hum of approval, eyes following the confident stride of your figure until you disappear into a patient's room. She adjusts her stance, leaning slightly against the counter while absentmindedly toying with her wedding ring.
The sounds of the ED seem to fade into the background as Dana's thoughts drift to you and the secret the two of you are keeping from your colleagues.
You did start to have a conversation about whether you would tell people once you officially started since your different last names would hide the connection—but that night, you had been in the mood for something that involved less talking and successfully distracted Dana before you could come to an agreement.
She lets out a deep sigh, shaking her head slightly as a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. The last thing she needs to thinking about right now is sex, even if you do look especially good in your scrubs…
The blonde's mind quickly snaps back to work when she overhears a couple of hushed voices talking nearby.
"I wasn't expecting her to be a hottie though," Princess giggles.
Perlah only tsks, waving off her friend.
"You say that about everyone."
At that same moment, you stroll past and wave at the duo with a genuine smile, causing them to both return it. When you walk into another room and slide the curtain behind you, they look at each other as Princess raises her eyebrows.
"Okay, she is," Perlah chuckles before whispering something in Tagalog that Dana doesn't understand.
She turns around then, catching the duo's attention and ending their gossip session.
"Alright, you two, don't you have somethin' else to do?"
The hijabi woman laughs at being caught before walking over and nudging the charge nurse with her elbow.
"Come on D, even you gotta admit the new doc is good looking."
Dana shoots a dry look at Perlah, lips barely twitching under the weight of professionalism.
"I'm here to work, not ogle my coworkers," she deadpans, tapping away on the tablet without looking up. "Now go check Mr. Callahan’s vitals before he stages another jailbreak to the vendin' machine."
Princess leans in with a grin and giggles away.
"You’re avoiding the question!"
Dana finally lifts her gaze—slow, unimpressed, eyes glinting like she's one more comment away from assigning them both bedpan duty. She raises her left hand and waves her ring finger, gold wedding band catching the lights above.
"One is plenty for me," she says flatly. Then, after the tiniest pause: "...And I have excellent taste."
She turns back to her screen with finality—leaving just enough silence for Perlah and Princess to exchange knowing looks.
Dana forces her eyes firmly to her tablet, pretending to focus on the patient notes instead of the flush creeping up her neck.
Shit, she thinks, I shouldn't have said that last part.
The duo just smile, clearly unbothered by her stern stare. Princess bumps Perlah as they walk away, more Tagalog filtering out between them.
"So, Nurse Evans."
Dana looks up slowly, the sound of her name on your voice slithering into her ears and sending a spark down her spine. You're standing right in front of her now—close; too close for what's appropriate at work, but just right for you.
She lifts a brow, cool and composed despite the way her pulse jumps.
"Yes, doctor," she drawls, tapping the tablet with feigned disinterest. "Need somethin'? Or are you just here to disrupt my workflow on your very first day?"
You cross your arms and shoot her an amused, almost cocky smile.
Always so professional.
"Just thought I'd stop in," you say, shrugging. "Say hi."
Dana gives a noncommittal hum, fingers continuing to move across the device with practiced ease as she avoids eye contact.
"Mm-hm."
You shift your weight, and her eyes then finally raise and flick over you, casually taking in your figure and the way your scrubs hug all the right spots. It's a bit distracting, but she has no intention of letting on.
Her gaze lingers a beat too long before sliding back down to her screen as she clears her throat.
"Well, now you've said hi. Congratulations."
She cracks her neck, nonchalant expression belying the subtle flutter in her chest.
"Anythin' else, or can I get back to work now?"
Your smile morphs into a smirk, clearly aware of the effect you have on her.
"Yes, actually. I wanted to ask—"
The telltale sound of the phone's ringtone interrupts, and Dana's head whips in its direction. She walks over and picks it up, looking at you as she nods at the information being told to her.
Hanging up the device, she sees Baran walking up behind you and calls out, "Incoming trauma! Pedestrian versus car, three minutes."
"Alright, let's get ready."
Dana's demeanor shifts back to full business mode, any hint of playfulness disappearing as she goes into charge nurse mode, relaying instructions to the nearest nurses and doctors in a clear, concise tone.
Al-Hashimi walks up to you then, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you towards the ambulance bay.
"Come with me, this will be a good case for you to learn our workflow."
You nod, falling into step beside her as the two of you briskly walk in the direction of the ambulance bay. Despite your best efforts to appear focused and composed, you can't help but steal glances at Dana, who's still barking orders with practiced ease as she prepares for the incoming trauma.
The next few minutes pass in a flurry of activity as the team gears up, with Dana directing everyone to their assigned roles and ensuring everything is set for the patient's arrival.
In between organizing the chaos, her eyes keep drifting over to you, watching you with an intensity that's difficult to miss.
Finally, the whir of the approaching ambulance announces the arrival of the incoming patient. You turn your focus to the situation at hand, working seamlessly with the other doctors and nurses to assess and stabilize them.
As the patient is rushed into the trauma bay, Dana moves with precision and authority, calling out orders and ensuring everyone is on task. Her eyes flick to you occasionally, pride flickering in her gaze as she watches you in your element.
The next several minutes are a whirlwind, and through it all, you fit right in with the rest of the team, calling out orders with Baran's lead and showing off your knowledge to the greener doctors.
As the patient's condition stabilizes and they're rushed off to the ICU, you finally let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping slightly with the weight of the adrenaline dump.
Tossing your gown and gloves into the designated bin, you and your fellow attending walk out onto the main floor as you're discussing how the trauma went and how she prefers to approach cases like that.
You're still riding the adrenaline high, your words spilling out animatedly as you approach the nurses' station.
"I never get tired of that," you admit, running a hand over your neck.
Baran smiles, nodding in agreement.
"You were fantastic," she compliments, then adds, "You work very well under pressure."
"Thank you, that means a lot to hear," you smile.
She pats you on the shoulder before heading off to check on another patient, leaving you to gaze after the blonde checking on the patient board a few feet away.
You stand there for a moment, eyes locked on Dana as she goes over the patient board, her slender fingers tracing the air in front of her.
Despite the hectic pace around you, your gaze remains on her, drawn to the way she effortlessly commands the space with her presence and the stern expression that makes your heart flutter.
"Perlah, hold down the fort, will ya? I'm goin' for a smoke," Dana calls out.
The woman in question gives an acknowledging wave, barely looking up from her paperwork.
"Sure thing, D. Don't take too long."
Dana offers a quick nod in response before striding through the glass doors and stepping into the cool morning air.
It hits her skin in a refreshing manner, washing away the stress from the trauma, and she sighs deeply, eyes closing as she savors the momentary peace. Her hand slips into the pocket of her scrubs, retrieving a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
She slips one between her lips and leans back against the wall, lighting it in a practiced motion.
"Smoking's bad for you, y'know?"
Dana immediately looks up to find you standing across the walkway. She doesn't even seem surprised, just raising an eyebrow and giving you a small eye roll.
"So you've said."
Inhaling deeply, the rush of the nicotine settles into her bloodstream before she pushes the smoke out through her nose.
"What would you suggest instead," she drawls, "meditation?"
You shrug your shoulders and walk closer until you're standing directly in front of her, hands slipping into your scrub pockets.
"I can think of a few healthier ways to unwind."
Her lips curl upwards just slightly but she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she takes another slow drag, eyes hooded as she watches you over the ember’s glow.
"Such as?" she challenges softly.
Before you can answer, the glass door slides open beside you two.
"Dana, we need you back inside for—"
Perlah pauses, glancing between the two of you with sudden realization dawning on her face.
"Oh."
The blonde hangs her head in annoyance at her break being cut short, sighing deeply as she puts out her cigarette in the designated ashtray before flicking it into the trash bin with practiced precision.
“Be right there.”
Perlah gives her a tight lipped smile and a quick nod before disappearing back inside, leaving you two alone once again.
Dana lets out a frustrated huff, eyes darting over to you with thinly veiled annoyance.
"Thanks for that," she sighs, fingers ghosting over her pocket where the pack rests.
You flash her a sheepish grin, knowing full well a rare break of hers was just cut short, but you can't help but find her reaction somewhat endearing.
"I was only trying to look out for your health," you tease, raising your hands in mock surrender.
Dana can't help but let out a snort, shaking her head.
"Oh yeah, I'm sure that's all you were doin'," she responds dryly, rolling her eyes at your obvious attempt to get under her skin.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, betraying her amusement despite her best efforts to remain irritated.
You can't help but find her stubbornness adorable. Stepping closer, you lean in just enough to be in her personal space, catching the faint scent of her perfume.
"Maybe I just enjoy seeing you frustrated," you say with a smirk, watching as her eyes narrow.
"Watch yourself," she huffs. "I'm the boss around here, remember that."
She pushes off the wall and heads towards the entrance, straightening her posture as you stare after her.
"We both know who's really in charge," you call after her in a teasing voice.
Dana doesn’t turn around but you could swear you see her shoulders shake with a suppressed laugh as she disappears back into the ED. You follow shortly after, still grinning like a fool as you stroll up to the big board and figure out which patient to check on next.
The shift continues, the morning growing more hectic as more patients stream through the ED doors. Dana is all business now, her demeanor back to strictly serious and professional. She rarely even glances in your direction, though you catch her eyes flicking over to you every once in a while when she thinks you're not looking.
As the hours wear on, you continue with your teasing, never missing an opportunity to slip in a subtle innuendo or playful remark whenever Dana is nearby. You know you're pushing her buttons and honestly, you're having way too much fun to stop. Every quick glance from her, quirk of her eyebrow, and tight-lipped response only fuels you more.
Dana, to her credit, does her best to remain impassive, pretending not to be affected by your relentless flirting. But you can see the slightest twitch in her jaw, the way she'll bite her tongue when she thinks of a snarky reply, the quick dart of her gaze towards you before she catches herself.
Her resolve is admirable, and you're determined to break it.
During a short lull in the chaos, you manage to catch her in a quiet corner of the ED. She's checking something on her tablet and you seize the opportunity to step in closer, leaning your hip against the wall next to her.
With a smirk, you tease, "You know, I think I could use a coffee right about now."
She doesn't look up, eyes locked on the task at hand.
"Then make one. Didn't Baran tell you where the break room is?"
Quirking an eyebrow, you lips turn downwards before you huff out a laugh.
"Wait a minute...are you, are you jealous?" you question.
Dana finally looks up then, narrowing her eyes and scoffing at your statement.
"Jealous? Please."
She turns back to her tablet, fingers tapping away, but you don't miss the slight pink tinge that dusts her cheeks.
"Babe..." you whisper with a slight pout. "That's so cute of you."
She lets out a huff of annoyance, shooting you a glare over the top of her glasses. It's as ineffective as it is endearing.
"Don't 'babe' me," she says with a roll of her eyes before turning around and giving you her back.
"It's just annoyin' hearin' everyone talk about you when we have more important things to worry about!" she whispers.
You can't help but chuckle, taking in the way her shoulders tense with frustration.
"Aw, were the nurses gushing over me all morning?" you tease, tilting your head to get a better look at her side profile.
She grumbles something under her breath in response, hand waving in the air.
"It's all I've been hearin'," she retorts. "Every little thing you d—"
She stops abruptly, realizing she's only giving you more ammo to mess with her.
"Ugh, I'm done talkin' about this," she groans instead, shifting to lean her hip against the wall.
You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
"Oh, no, keep going," you tease. "I wanna hear how annoyed you got when all the nurses were talking about how smart and good looking the new doctor is."
She scoffs, turning around to shoo you backwards until you're a few feet away. "Go find somethin' to do and quit botherin' me, how 'bout that?"
Laughing, you give her a half-hearted salute and a quick wink before turning around to go find Baran.
You weave through the busy ED, still grinning from your little exchange with Dana, and the curly haired doctor quickly spots you and waves you over to a patient’s room.
“Ready for another?” she asks, already stepping inside.
Nodding with a smile, you push thoughts of a certain charge nurse aside and fall back into the rhythm of medicine.
One patient turns into another, and then another after that. The shift is busy and your mind is a whirlwind of information and assessments, leaving little room for thoughts that didn't involve saving lives.
As it often happens when the ED is at its busiest, lunch is skipped, and before you know it, the evening sun has begun to dip in the sky.
Finally, you manage to finish up with a particularly difficult case. Exhaling sharply, you lean back against the counter of the nurses' station and rub a hand over your face, exhaustion weighing heavily on you.
Dana takes note of your tired state and approaches, crossing her arms across her chest.
"When's the last time you ate?" she asks, a hint of genuine concern masked beneath her usual stern expression.
"Been a while," you admit, cracking your neck. "Lost track of time."
Dana huffs under her breath, eyeing you with that familiar mix of annoyance and care.
"Unbelievable," she mutters, then reaches into her snack drawer and pulls out two granola bars, slapping them into your hand. "Here. Don't pass out on my shift."
Peeling back the wrapper with a grin, you lean in to catch her eye.
"You always take care of me."
She turns away quickly, but not before you see the soft smile on her lips.
"Just eat it," she grumbles, like she isn't already planning a good meal for when you two get home.
You take a bite, the sweet and crunchy treat immediately lifting your spirits. As you chew, you steal a sidelong glance at Dana who's now engrossed in paperwork again.
"Thanks," you say sincerely, crumpling the wrapper and tossing it into the trash.
She simply nods, not looking up from her work.
"Just don't make a habit of runnin' on empty."
Despite her stern words, there's an undertone of affection that only you can hear. It's these little moments, the subtle ways she shows she cares, that make everything worthwhile.
Dana may play the tough charge nurse in the ED, but behind the scenes, she's all about making sure you're taken care of.
As the end of the day approaches, you stretch your arms overhead, feeling the satisfying pop in your shoulders after a long, busy shift. Scanning the room one more time, you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The adrenaline rush of a busy day gives way to a satisfied fatigue; the kind that comes with knowing you made a difference and navigated through every challenge thrown at you.
You glance over at Dana, who's now busy with Lena, finalizing a few things as they work on the handoff for the night shift.
Her demeanor has relaxed slightly since earlier, a sign that she's also feeling the exhaustion settling in. You observe her fully in this moment: the way her forehead creases in concentration, how her fingers move deftly across the keyboard, the way her lower lip catches between her teeth as she double checks every detail is correct.
She looks up then, catching you staring.
"What?" she asks, eyebrow raised.
"Just admiring the view," you reply with a lopsided grin.
Dana glares at you, and you see the way Lena glances between the two of you in surprise.
"Stop," the blonde chides, returning her focus to her work.
You raise your hands in mock surrender, knowing better than to tease her too much in front of other people.
Lena clears her throat then, awkwardly breaking the tension.
"I'll, uh, I'll just go start on those discharges."
Dana gives her a nod, eyes focused on her paperwork until the redhead is out of earshot. She then looks at you with a tired expression and tilts her head.
"You're exhaustin', y'know that?"
She receives a beaming smile in return as you laugh.
"And you still married me, so whose fault is it, really?" you whisper.
The other woman lets out a long, exaggerated sigh before letting out a chuckle of her own.
"Touché."
Looking around her desk, she begins tidying up before looking at you.
"Go grab your stuff so we can get outta here, I'm starvin' and I know you are too."
"Yes, ma’am," you say in a playful tone before turning to head to the lockers with a renewed pep in your step.
When you get back, it's Dana's turn to go get her things so you sit in her designated chair and start spinning in it to pass the time.
"Ready to get home?" a soft voice behind you asks.
Stopping your movement, you see Baran leaning against the counter, hands in her pockets with her usual amused expression.
"You have no idea," you reply, exhaustion weighing down your voice.
"You should be proud of yourself, though. There's not a lot of doctors that out there that could slide into our system that seamlessly."
She chuckles before looking down at your bag and seeing you've changed back into regular clothes.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
"Oh, um..."
You're not sure what to say. Dana has been purposely keeping you at arm's length the entire shift so no one would catch on, and you're unsure if she'd be okay with you revealing it now.
The woman across from you catches your hesitation and raises an eyebrow. There's curiosity in her gaze, and she folds her arms across her chest as she waits for you to elaborate.
"I was actually—"
"Ready to go?"
Like a guardian angel swooping in to save you from this awkward conversation, Dana shows up at that exact moment. Relief floods through you, a small smile tugging at your lips as you turn to find the blonde standing a few feet away.
Baran then glances between you both, a quizzical expression settling on her face.
"Oh, do you two know each other?"
You stiffen for a moment but recover quickly with the tiniest tilt of your head and a subtle, practiced smile.
"We just, um…" you trail off, casting the blonde a quick look.
She catches on right away, but instead of giving a vague answer like you expect, she looks at with the softest eyes you've ever seen. Then, she reaches out and gently hooks a finger around the chain dangling under your shirt and pulls it out for everyone to see.
A wedding band hangs from it, the same one Dana has been wearing for a couple of years now.
"If you consider marriage 'knowin' each other', then yeah. We do," the nurse chuckles.
Baran's eyes widen in surprise, looking between the pair of you as the realization dawns on her.
"I—oh!" she stammers, clearly not expecting this. "Well...that explains a lot," she adds with a soft laugh.
Dana gives you another look after that—warm, proud, and just a little mischievous.
"Yeah, we weren't sure if we'd tell people, but..."
Her hand wraps around the back of your neck and caresses the area there. Goosebumps break out on your skin at the sensation and the public display of affection, not having expected this at all.
"Cat's out of the bag, I guess," she hums.
You lean into her touch, feeling a flutter in your chest at her words and the way she's suddenly so openly affectionate.
Baran gives you both a warm grin before glancing at the time on the clock nearby.
"Well, I should get home to my son," she says, turning back at the two of you. "And...congratulations. You make a very good couple."
Dana lets out a laugh, letting go of your neck and dropping her hand down to her side. She then looks over at you and shrugs, a coy glimmer in her eyes.
"Yeah, we did alright."
When the other doctor leaves, you stand up from your chair and stretch your back, releasing the bit of nerves that built up during that conversation.
Hearing something hit the ground, you turn around and find Princess, Perlah, Santos, Javadi, and Ellis all standing there with shocked expressions.
"I knew there was something up with you guys!" Trinity exclaims.
Princess just points at you both, eyes wide.
"Wait—and neither of you said anything when half the floor was flirting?"
Dana sighs deeply and gives them a dry look.
"Took a lot not to say anythin', trust me."
With that, Dana grabs her bag with one hand and slips her free one into yours, pulling you towards the sliding doors to the ambulance bay.
"Anyways, good night ladies, see you in the mornin'!"
Both of you receive a chorus of shouts in return but wave them off, exhaling deeply when the cool night air hits your skin.
"How much you wanna bet everyone else will know by next shift?" You chuckle.
Dana matches your laugh, shaking her head at the scene you just left behind.
"With that group, I say in the next hour, at most."
"Well, shit," you reply, swinging your free arm lazily as you walk with her through the parking lot.
With the tension from the workday lifted off your shoulders, a sense of contentment settles in, and you can't help but look over at the woman beside you. In the glow of the lamplight, she looks so serene, and a wave of affection washes over you.
Sensing your gaze, she turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" she asks, a hint of a smile on her lips.
"Just admiring the view," you respond, flashing her a cheesy grin.
She only scoffs.
"You already used that line today, cornball."
"Maybe," you say, tugging her hand gently to slow your walk. "But it's still true."
Dana rolls her eyes, but she doesn't pull away—doesn't hide the small, fond smile that finally breaks through.
"God help me," she mutters, voice thick with affection as she shakes her head. Then, quieter: "Love you anyway."
You stop walking entirely, turning to face her fully under the dim glow of the parking lot light.
"Love you more," you reply, stepping closer.
She sighs again, but it's only it’s half-hearted—her eyes are soft, and her body is drawn to yours.
“Impossible.”
Closing the gap, you brush your lips against hers in a tender kiss, brief but full of affection.
Dana hums into it, one hand coming up to cup your jaw for just a second before pulling back.
"Alright, alright," she murmurs, voice warm and low. "That's enough romance for one day. Let’s get home so I can cook you a good meal."
You grin at the thought, feeling your stomach grumble at the mention of food.
"Sounds perfect to me," you say, starting to walk again.
Dana matches your stride, slipping her hand back into yours as you continue through the parking lot. As you walk, the silence that settles over the two of you is comfortable, and you think about how you can't wait to see what future shifts with your wife will be like.
⭐︎⋆˚࿔ Summary: Bucky Barnes can totally handle an undercover mission with his ex. It was his idea to ask for her help, after all.
⭐︎⋆˚࿔ Content: mentions of a friendly breakup so that means exes to lovers ;) reader wears a dress. slow burn + tension in denial + spice ;)) sam’s onto you guys. no use of y/n. cap quartet cameos bc everyone’s alive!
⭐︎⋆˚࿔ Word Count: 5.4k
⭐︎⋆˚࿔ A/N: wow this fic got me out of writer’s block. inspired by various scenes in the captain america movies…you’ll see muahaha
“Barnes, I’ve seen you do a lot of dumb things,” Natasha muses, crossing her arms. “But this has to be a new low.”
Bucky throws his head backwards onto the couch and decides he is definitely not in the mood for this.
The team sits around the compound’s living room table, eating takeout and discussing their latest assignment: to infiltrate the gala of a secret crime syndicate.
This group specializes in art heists around the world. By hour three of debriefing, everything about intercepting small yet priceless stolen artifacts – on their way to be smuggled into some high-profile museum – was clicking into place.
That is, until Bucky’s teammates determined he would be the one to go to the gala in person. And, looking for help, he messaged one of the retired Avengers – you.
Now everyone wants to act like he’s the one who committed a crime.
They should be grateful you live in the same location where the event is taking place. And that you happened to be knowledgeable in the arts world prior to your Avenging duties. It’s not his fault they’re sending him to a huge city he’s never been to. More than anything, your stealth and background will be a perfect asset. Texting an ex-agent was a great idea.
So you’re also his ex-girlfriend. What does it matter?
Waving a utensil at him accusingly, Sam snickers. “Your brooding won’t get you out of this one.”
“Whatever.” Bucky gives a singular roll of his eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’m over it.”
“Right,” Natasha observes, judging how he very casually checks his phone for what must be the tenth time in the last two minutes.
“Other potential contacts aside,” Steve – ever the mitigator – continues, “this is a job that’s a little out of our ordinary routine. That means we need to be precise. We’ve already established Bucky will infiltrate as a guest. We should also consider a group for surveillance, another for–”
Bucky’s phone buzzes. He flips it over like it’s sizzling.
Shit.
Shit.
You agreed to help.
Hell, you responded.
This is good. Great! It’s exactly what he wanted! For the mission, of course. His flesh palm is only sweating because you hadn’t talked in a couple of months. Absolutely nothing to be–
“Let me guess.” Sam’s voice goes sympathetic. “She said no?”
“Actually,” Bucky says defensively, “she said she’ll come out of retirement just this once. To join me on the field. That’s it. All business.”
When the others stare blankly – expressions falling on along a spectrum of concern to amusement – he swallows. “You’re welcome.”
“First of all, chill. Second of all, tell her we said thank you.” Turning to Sam as if Bucky weren’t even there, Natasha asks through a mouthful of food, “So how much are we betting?”
“Twenty five they get back together afterwards,” he declares.
“Alright, thirty if it happens before the mission’s even over.”
They lean over the table and handshake directly in front of him. Steve stifles a laugh with a bite.
“Ha, ha.” Frustrated, Bucky feels his face flush. At least, he thinks it’s out of frustration. “You guys know you can trust me, right?”
Natasha’s curls bounce when she nods exaggeratedly. “Oh, totally.” Then she leans back into her seat with a smirk. “Unrelated, but I think infiltration just became a three person party. You’re on it, Wilson.”
It takes everything in Bucky not to groan like a grounded teenager. That, quite possibly, is the worst case scenario. Sam was always teasing you two to no end even when you were dating. Not that Nat’s bluntness or Steve’s tendency to turn everything into a lecture would be much better.
“We have power in numbers here. Nothing personal, pal,” Steve offers – unconvincingly, given how his face still shows traces of the grin harassing Bucky since 1929.
Sucking in a deep breath, he mumbles something about “being monitored” and “the audacity.”
The others go back planning or finishing up their food. After a few moments of moping, Bucky is about to re-engage in the conversation, but the reminder notification of your unopened message draws his eyes back to the phone.
What he mentioned about your response was true. Mostly. He skipped over the last part.
Glad to hear from you :)
For a second, any mixed emotions dissolve into a different kind of blush.
Reconnecting. That’s all this is.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
The breakup was mutual. Super amicable, as most interactions with you are. With your retirement and Bucky’s mental health, it was simply time to move on. He was finally starting to accept that as an ending, not a footnote or an introduction to the next chapter. So even though he is in a better place now, Bucky swears he won’t shoot any shots.
Sam thinks that’s the biggest lie he’s ever said.
Normally a stakeout car below a freeway overpass wouldn’t seem like the best place to discuss this. This whole time, they’ve been sitting without exchanging a word. But you’re about to meet them with intel, and the event is already tonight. Avoiding the elephant in the room forever is impossible. Sam needs to break the ice.
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Did she tell you what time she would get here?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he says, dragging out the last syllable skeptically. “Did she…tell you anything else?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t tell her anything else?”
The musty air conditioner buzzes louder for a second.
“Nope.”
Blood pressure rising, Sam realizes he has to cut straight to the point. “Come on, don’t have any feelings about doing a mission with your ex?”
“You’re only asking because you have money riding on this.”
“That doesn’t answer my–”
“We’re friends.”
Sam’s face goes deadpan.
“Shh,” Bucky hisses.
“I didn’t even say anything!”
“Whatever. I’m saying she’s here.”
Hunching over to see through the windshield – this car was not built with Avengers in mind – they watch as another vehicle pulls up. Admittedly, it puts their mini beat-up one to shame. Bucky wishes they had driven something else as a good first-impression. The polished exterior of your car is sleek yet low-profile, as anticipated.
He also expected you would look drop-dead gorgeous, but that doesn’t stop his breath from becoming shallow as soon as you step out.
Even though you’re wearing civilian clothing to blend in, the cunning agent’s sparkle in your gaze is as strong as ever. You haven’t changed at all. If anything, you became even more beautiful. Only you could make a sketchy underpass look like a runway.
Sam snorts. “Some friendly eyes you’re making over there.”
“It’s nothing,” Bucky lies straight through his teeth. Literally, since it only took an instant for him to fold and grin absentmindedly.
And, while your gaze is partially guarded, you’re returning the gesture with sparkling teeth.
“I cannot believe I’m already third wheeling,” Sam mumbles, with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Refusing to give him any other chances to comment, Bucky shoots him a dry look, opens the door, and forces himself to stroll across the clearing.
“Hey!” he says as cheerfully as possible. This should be fine.
Except that’s as far as his plan goes. Does he give you a hug? No, it’s too soon. A handshake is another option, but what the hell are you, bankers at a business meeting?
He settles for shoving his hands straight into his pockets. “I really appreciate you helping us out with this. Thank you.”
If you noticed him hesitating like an idiot, you don’t seem to mind. You still smile so widely. “Of course! No problem at all.” A beat. “Here’s, uh, the file you asked for.”
He barely registers the manila folder you hold out, stamped and filled with information key to the operation. Right. How could he forget that while standing in the face of such a mesmerizing force to be reckoned with.
“Yeah, I…probably need it, don’t I?” Bucky stammers, dragging his hands back out to take the envelope.
You let out a breathy giggle. “Just like how you probably needed a bigger car.”
The joke hangs in the air for a second, a test of the actual waters between you. At least the highway’s rumbling above is overwhelming enough to distract him from the violent pounding of his heart.
Then, breaking into full on light-laughter, you punch his shoulder playfully. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”
He was not expecting that. The contact sends sparks flying throughout his entire body.
Even if your hand might not have any rekindling intentions, looks like caution can be damned.
“You too.” Bucky thinks another dumbass blush is coming on. But so far, so good (enough). An opportunity for small talk will not slip away. “I mean, it feels like it’s been forever! How is everything?”
Much to his relief, continuing the conversation doesn’t change your relaxed demeanor. “Great! Retirement has been nice to me, thankfully. Pretty under the radar. How about you?”
“Same as always, you know?” He shrugs, as if nonchalance were his default emotion in this situation. “Been excited about this mission more than anything. I missed–”
Never mind. He’s all over the place, and his mouth got ahead of his brain. It’s definitely overstepping to say you.
Bucky blinks. “I missed, um, being covert. For once.”
Coming from a super soldier like him, that excuse is absolutely terrible. Your expression goes unreadable for a second. Maybe you had a hard cutoff for the number of questionable interactions you would accept from an ex today.
Before he can collapse straight onto the ground, however, you offer a close-lipped grin. A bit awkwardly, which he’s surprised, and relieved, to see.
“That’s good,” you respond with enthusiasm. “We’ll need that energy tonight.”
Whatever’s happening, it makes Bucky more glad that your good terms haven’t changed.
You clear your throat, gaze moving past his shoulder with an amused raise of your eyebrow. “Sam, you can stop lurking.”
“I was brainstorming,” he says. The gravel clicks under his feet when he comes closer, his tone as teasing as it is genuine. “And waiting for my turn to say hi.”
Thankfully, Sam stays too busy catching up with you to make any obvious faces.
After an exchange in friendly pleasantries, you motion towards the file threatening to crinkle in Bucky’s tight grip. “Speaking of brainstorming, this thing tonight is no joke, so…” A flash of what might be nervousness passes through your eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a flame that’s unusually bold, even for you. “I have an idea. Hear me out.”
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
Later that night, the three of you coordinate your disguises in the living room of the team’s safehouse, tucked away in the outskirts of the city. The other option was to stay at your apartment, which you did offer. Nobody wanted to risk drawing attention back to your home if things went awry, though.
Thankfully, with your guidance, the chance of that happening is already very slim.
The plan starts off with one person going in for recon. During the big art auction of the night, the other two replace the stolen artifacts with replicas (whose likeness is courtesy of Nat and, fun fact, her elite knowledge of one of Tony’s old 3D printers). Because the items are no more than a few centimeters at most, you said you would carry them in a small, unsuspecting purse.
If anybody even notices the swap, it’ll be when you’re long gone.
Now that everybody is dressed as cuttingly elegant as the actual attendees surely will be, you can sneak in without a hitch. Asking for your help was indeed the move. Foolproof plan.
Bucky, running his gloved metal hand through his hair, just wishes it wasn’t so excruciating on his part. When you mentioned splitting up for this plan, you wanted the pair replacing the artifacts to look as non-Avenger as possible – something you could see at any party.
So, with his luck, you pitched an undercover couple heist.
Anybody could guess which third-wheel genius volunteered to be in charge of recon right away.
“I’m heading out now,” Sam announces. He stops by the full-length mirror near the door, adjusting his sleek suit with confidence. “You guys almost ready?”
“Almost!” you respond. “I need a couple more precautions.”
Excitement radiates from your face at being back in the swing of things again. You hide weapons and gadgets beneath the folds of your dress, in secret holsters that not even the most trained mercenaries would suspect. Propping your leg up on the table, you strap the latest knife through the slip of your dress and onto your thigh.
Bucky looks respectfully, but damn, is his mind overflowing with hot static.
It’s barely occurring to him how difficult it would be for you to see each other so tastefully dressed. Maybe a skim through this list of big criminals in attendance tonight can keep his eyes from bugging out of his head.
Rereading the same sentence on a file for the thirtieth time, he chokes out, “I’ll review this information one last time, then I’ll – be good to go.”
The shabbily disguised statement prompts a knowing glance from Sam in the mirror. He nods towards your back with his eyes and, humiliatingly, wiggles his eyebrows.
What is he, twelve!
Silently begging him not to say anything, Bucky gives a hard glare. Which, of course, is ignored.
“Hey, uh–” Sam starts, turning to face you. “It’s been great to have you back. Like old times, huh?”
To be fair, he isn’t joking when he says that. Your bond in particular was really tight. It goes without saying that the compound is far from the same when you’re not there, and that’s not Bucky’s own bias speaking.
You pause your weapon packing to share an honest smile. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Tonight’ll be fun! Really. We missed you.” Unfortunately, the sentiment that doubled as the temporary exemption from bullying is over. “And believe me, I mean we.”
Just as Bucky is overcome with the urge to, say, tackle him from across the room, Sam’s lips curl into his classic smirk. “Good luck tonight, guys. See you there!”
He rushes out with a gentle slam of the door, leaving nothing but an electrical charge in the air. Bucky swallows whatever the hell he was feeling.
Now that makes space for the questions. Would you have felt more comfortable partnering up with an uncomplicated friend like Sam? Why did you suggest this idea in the first place? Does this all mean you’re actually interested again, or that you think of Bucky so painfully platonically that pretending to be back together is easy?
You step off the table as if nothing, heels quickly clicking as they carry you across the room towards the mirror. He begins to worry that it’s an attempt to establish distance – because being caught looking at you earlier would be so embarrassing – but a huff of a laugh leaves your mouth.
“Classic Sam,” you say softly, meeting Bucky’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
Any remaining energy he has goes towards a lopsided smile of his own. “Gotta respect his honesty, I’ll say that much.”
“Mhm.” Sighing, you smooth out wrinkles in your dress. “I’m really happy to be here with you guys, honestly. Guess I couldn’t stay away for long.”
“Glad you didn’t,” he blurts.
The statement would have sounded casual if his voice didn’t waver in the middle. Looks like he’s already fumbling through this anyway – might as well throw in a compliment. A friendly, innocent compliment.
Ignoring the blaring thoughts that tell him he shouldn’t, Bucky says, “You – you look really good tonight, by the way.”
“Thanks.” You bite your lip. “So do you.”
Something shifts. Suddenly making eye contact with you in the mirror is making him sweat. You look away at the same time.
“Okay, um…” You quickly grab the purse off the bag hanger hook by the door. “We should get moving.”
Bucky nods weakly. Fixing his tie when he stands up off the couch, he shoves away whatever just happened. Maybe he imagined it.
One thing is for sure: the toughest part of tonight isn’t going to be putting up a convincing front. On the contrary – it’s going to be denying you still look good in each other’s arms now.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
The party is overrun with security. Limousines pull up through the mansion’s roundabout driveway, and out step people who ooze high profile aura. Designer clothes probably paid in blood money, entourages that scream well-trained-assassins. They go up and down the wide marble staircase in the middle of the grand foyer like they mean business.
You fit the environment perfectly.
As you two make your way through this lobby, your arm interlinked in his, Bucky tries to ignore the knot in his stomach. Even though it’s part of the plan, being seen with you so publicly – when you look like this tonight – is intoxicating.
With impeccable timing as usual, Sam speaks into Bucky’s individual earpiece channel. “Coast is clear so far. Keep me posted.” He snickers. “And remember you’re on a mission, not a date.”
“Thank you, I’m well aware,” he murmurs, trying not to make it obvious to bystanders that he’s communicating with someone.
“Sure.” Sam purposefully coughs into the mic. “Nat hacked into surveillance back at the compound, by the way. This is your first and only warning not to do anything you wouldn’t want caught on camera.”
The image that instantly popped into Bucky’s mind should not be there.
He clears his throat. “Muting you now.”
As soon as he hangs up, though, the ideas prompted by Sam’s stupid joke resurface. Particularly the sight of your figure leaning while you prepared your weapons, the dress’ slit falling around your knee and calves like a delicate silk waterfall.
Bucky can’t help but glance at you from the side now. Every part of him is pulled towards you like a magnet – including his eyes, which are starting to wander down to the neckline of your dress.
Then he processes you’re already staring right at him.
Fuck.
Nervous that he crossed a line, the beginning of an explanation starts to tumble out. “I, uh – I was just–”
“Uh huh,” you muse. “If this is to sell our act tonight, then you’re doing a great job.”
You seem a bit more relaxed than earlier. A look you haven’t given him in ages appears on your face, the teasing one that always used to make his mouth go dry. It still does.
And it almost makes him forget that you’re supposed to be through.
As you stop at a small standing table covered in expensive appetizers, Bucky realizes you do have a good point about selling the act. You’re surrounded by all kinds of extravagant, flashy art looters and criminals; this makes it seem like it’s another day on the illegal-activities job for you.
If it makes the mission more believable, then…it’s fine, right?
Mentally flipping off his better judgement, Bucky lets you go temporarily. Careful to avoid the bag on your other shoulder, his arm snakes around your waist instead. The sleeve of his suit gently brushes over your silk.
He pretends to care about hiding his grin. “How’s this, then?”
“Perfect,” you hum. “Your act’s definitely convincing to me.”
The encouragement suddenly pushes Bucky into his old element, with that flirt that comes back ten times stronger. He brings you in close, and the side of your body presses flush against his. It’s not a possessive signal for any potential onlookers – rather, a silent personal follow up.
Leaning in, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Who said I’m acting, sweetheart?”
You are not about to be one-upped in this game. Feigning innocence, you tug at your dress neckline to readjust it. Excruciatingly lower. You don’t even have to say anything. Your eyes are on fire.
Not that this was a competition, but you just beat him at this interaction.
He’s so tempted to keep fanning the flame, except a well-dressed assistant comes up to your table with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you all like anything to drink?”
“Oh, no thank you! We’re good for now,” you respond, your words instantly becoming polite and losing whatever undertone you were using with Bucky.
Your body stays pressed against him all the same.
The assistant – who, upon further inspection, is one of the higher-up mercenaries in this syndicate – nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He looks like he’s about to laugh. “I’ll let you get back to your…conversation.”
As soon as the man leaves, Bucky exhales heavily, releasing the tension pent up in his body from the interruption.
“So it’s working,” you say in a low voice.
Bucky chuckles, still breathless. “Yeah, I guess.”
Your eyes twinkle. “Then let’s keep it up.”
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
An announcement for the beginning of the art auction eventually places your little show on hold. People begin to filter out into the area functioning as the exhibition hall, with their fancy shoes clicking across the spotless tile floor.
Through all the commotion, Sam emerges seamlessly from the crowd on the other side of the room.
“In position,” Bucky hears you whisper into your earpiece.
Doing one last scan around, Sam nods towards a hallway next to the staircase. With that, he disappears back into the wave of individuals headed towards the big event. That’s your cue.
It’s easy for you and Bucky to slip out into the hallway. To stay close in the bustling transition, he makes sure to place his hand on the small of your back. He feels you tense up – a bit of friendly payback for your teasing earlier.
All for the act, of course. Even if no one else is watching at the moment.
As you sneak through, you both take mental note of the decorative archways that lead to other rooms – full of crime-paid treasures, no doubt – in case you need to duck away. The rest of the area is exquisitely adorned with expensive artwork and old collector’s weapons that stand out even in the dim light.
Your artifacts of interest are on display in a glass case down the back, exactly as your intel revealed. Now your countdown to make the swap has begun.
“Get me the code,” you command, already taking the replicas out of your bag.
Bucky reads out the combination to the case – another courtesy of Nat’s sleuthing – without missing a beat. Simultaneously keeping an eye out for any passerbys, he watches in awe as you swiftly switch the items out, being careful not to leave fingerprints. Within minutes, the replicas are in place, while the originals are safely tucked away in your bag.
“Damn, you’re good,” Bucky says under his breath.
“Thanks.” You exhale proudly. “I missed this so bad.”
Pure determination in your voice makes his chest ache. Your intelligence, your effectiveness out on the field – they were always some of his favorite things about being your partner. And obviously not just in the mission sense.
The realization that this ends after tonight is crushing.
“You know…” He rubs the back of his neck. “When this is all over, I was thinking–”
The words die on his lips instantly. Several voices are carrying down the hallway. Including that of the assistant from earlier.
“Shit,” you hiss. “We have to go.”
Within the second, you both start walking as quietly as possible. Yet picking up the pace would only make more noise. Reality dawns terrifyingly – it’s no use. You cannot be seen. You have to think of something, and fast.
Before Bucky can even blink again, he’s yanked by you into one of the archways. The agent in you truly kicks in as you throw your arm across his abdomen, backs rigid against the side wall. Your breath slows. On the other hand, his breathing can’t stay steady.
Not with your hand splayed on his body like this.
You have bigger problems, though. The conversation is growing louder. Frantically, your free hand leans towards the doorknob next to you. It wiggles slightly, but to no avail. You look back at him, eyes screaming.
“What do we do?” he whispers, barely audible. “Why the hell would we be here anyway? There’s nothing…”
It hits you both simultaneously. There is an excuse you could use for being here alone.
And it’s the one prompting you to pull him closer by his tie.
Oh, bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
You’re breathless. “Kiss me, Bucky.”
He probably shouldn’t.
But you’re staring so intensely. His brain shuts off. You throw your arms around his neck, exchange a nod. Permissive. Dangerous. Necessary. Not for the mission, or for the act.
For each other.
Fuck it. It’s fine.
Every simmering spark explodes all at once. After months of agony, your lips are reunited in a kiss, hot and blinding, that ignores the very idea of knowing better. His hands run endlessly over the material of your dress. Your fingers intertwine in his hair.
As soon as he hit send on that message and you shot back a reply, you both hoped for this exact moment.
If it weren’t for the bag bumping gently against your side like a reminder, you would lose all self restraint. The sounds of your lips and tongue are practically echoing off the walls. You wrap your leg around his waist, and he grabs your hip in response. To make it really convincing, you throw in a few broken gasps.
But Bucky knows damn well you’re not just acting. It makes him dizzy.
The intensity does definitely sell it. Your unwanted guests pass by as if nothing, save their disgusted looks. Disappointed, somebody points out that you must be the third couple they’ve caught doing this tonight.
“Saw those two earlier in the lobby,” the assistant grumbles. “I’m not surprised.”
They come and go, footsteps disappearing down the hallway until the door closes.
Not that either of you care. You’re still a mess, tangled in the darkness of the archway.
Eventually, your kisses lull – only to catch your breath. Foreheads pressed together, you are utterly drunk on each other’s proximity.
But this isn’t quite over. Bucky’s metal hand, cool to the touch even through the glove, tilts your chin upwards for better access to your neck. The increased air exposure feels raw on your skin.
He gets back to work right away.
Slowly, he presses a trail of several kisses up and down, from your jawline to your collarbone. Each is more agonizing than the last. You can feel the way he grins against you. It gives you goosebumps.
“Bucky.” You grip his shoulder. “I think they’re–” Wow, his mouth is really distracting. “I think they’re gone.”
“Oh, are they?” He plants his latest kiss below your ear. “I didn’t notice.”
He’s not letting up. Hmm, what a shame.
With a long sigh, you move your hand to the back of his head for stability. “Hilarious.” You make a sound halfway between a laugh and a gasp. “I knew you’d be good for this job.”
“For which part?” Now Bucky lifts his head to look you straight in the eye. “Being undercover, or…” Putting an arm next to your shoulder, he pins you in with a smirk. “Being believable?”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Mind you, this was my idea, babe.”
“And it was a goddamn genius one,” he exhales. “Because you’re the perfect partner.”
Your breath hitches in unison, vulnerability suddenly laid bare.
“On that note, I–” Bucky clears his throat. Inhaling sharply, he pushes himself off the wall. “I understand if this whole, um – partnership thing was for the mission. So if you don’t want to–”
Your hand flies to his shoulder again. He gasps quietly.
“I appreciate that, but…it was never just for the mission, Bucky. When I said I was glad to hear from you, I meant it.” You giggle. “Not strictly in a business sense, in case you couldn’t tell.”
He must look like he lost the ability to hear his own thoughts – which he did – because you throw your head back in another quiet laugh.
“I think this can work again,” you whisper. “Now that I want to come back.”
Bucky freezes. “You mean you want to rejoin the team?”
You nod. “It feels right. Everything about it.”
The air stills. Once again, you have a point. Everything does feel right.
There is a default part of him that still nags about all of this. What if this is another disaster waiting to happen, an increasingly terrible idea?
He feels a tug on his tie again.
“So, in the meantime…Sam hasn’t contacted us yet.” A smirk dances on your lips. “Any objections for round two?”
Strength dissolving, he leans back within inches of your face. It’s your back pressed against the wall, but you’re in complete control this time.
Grinning stupidly, Bucky shakes his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
By the time you reconvene with Sam and head back to the safehouse, nothing feels real. Your table has several orders of milkshakes and fries, ordered on your phone in celebration of a job well done. The artifacts are organized, labeled, and packaged to be shipped to research facilities accordingly. Now you’re on video call with Steve and Natasha, their holograms hazy under the kitchen overhead light.
You and Bucky both hope the marks on your necks aren’t visible yet. On camera or otherwise.
Except everybody is already ecstatic since you broke the news of your return. That is, in fact, a major reason why you’re giddy. Surely it’ll pass as the sole explanation.
“Excellent work, everyone,” Steve declares with a smile.
Nodding, Natasha adds, “That was one of our cleanest missions yet. By far.”
“Hell yeah,” Sam says. He raises his milkshake towards you in a toast. “Special shoutout to our un-retired agent of the hour.”
“Thanks, guys.” You beam. “This was definitely a team effort, though. You made it even more exciting than I already knew it would be.”
You press your knee against Bucky’s under the table. He wants to faint. He has to keep reminding himself to pull it together.
To his dismay, the zone-out celebration is cut short. He notices a glint in Sam’s eye that he really doesn’t like. Everyone else must have recognized it, too, because the table is strangely silent.
Bucky narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” he asks. “I’m not giving you a look.”
“If you have something to say, Sam, just spit it out.”
“That’s okay, I’ll do it for him.” Natasha grins wickedly. “He’s mad he owes me thirty bucks.”
You’ve been around them long enough to know when something is up. Cautiously picking up a fry, you add, “Do I want to know what this is about?”
All of the color drains from Bucky’s face. There’s no way.
He forgot Nat was on goddamn surveillance.
The woes are immediately interrupted by another whiplash – a complete outburst of laughter from Sam. Like, full-belly, tear-inducing laughter. “I don’t – I don’t even care about the money,” he manages to get out. “The story, it – it was too good.”
“I didn’t see much, if that makes you feel better,” she says. “Don’t worry, I gave you enough privacy.”
This time, Steve’s attempt to hide his laugh is very poor.
“Besides”– Sam elbows you with a wink –“from the sounds of it, you had fun.”
“Oh.” You pause another fry that’s midair on the way to your mouth. “I see.”
Bucky can think of a million other places he would rather be than here. Probably somewhere with only you, first and foremost.
Then, running your free hand over your face, you laugh. Nervous, but not quite ashamed. “Well.” You turn towards Bucky and tuck a piece of stray hair behind his ear. “In my defense, he was reminding me what a good partner he can be.”
The kitchen erupts into a chorus of either groans, fake gags, or laughs.
Still, humiliation aside, Bucky smiles. This mission left him silently hopeful from the word jump – no matter how much he denied it. Now he can’t believe you’re finally coming back into their lives.
If these are the worst consequences of your (sexy) little stint, then this whole idea really wasn’t that bad after all.
omgmg i wanted to mention scarabia mc, like u said, so much potential for pre-established dorm mcs especially ones that dont have enough spotlight (personally i feel that scarabia and pomefiore get sidelined frequently)
dont get me wrong i adore the other dorms !! but i particularly appreciate scarabia mc bc 1. i have an insane bias for their dysfunctional codependence 2. theres saurr much potential for an mc to be a physical witness to the strained dynamic between kalim and jamil, especially since twisted hearts mc has background info on them, jamil in particular w his UM too and since mc is in the same dorm as them, the inevitable proximity is going to make for great development, and mc often being yuu means they do miss out the offscreen tension between them and potential occurrences that build up to the events of book 4,;; waw... i love scarabia mc
also i have to appreciate ur selection of characters to write abt!! i could sing u a song of a thousand praises for the characters youve introduced thus far like VIL oh my gatos dont get me started 😭✌️ ... despite being both a housewarden and OB he doesnt get that much attention? at least compared to (arguably) more popular characters like malleus (tho i suppose thats bc he is the poster boy;;)
alongside mc ≠ yuu, it means u get to branch out more from heartshackle (dont come for me trust I ADORE THEM) but it allows for more freedom to develop w other character like jade leech 😍😍 is this really a twisted hearts ask if i dont mention him /lh
and circling back to vil, since he is introduced quite late into canon twst storyline, it takes time for an mc to develop something w him but u introducing him straight of the bat in part 2 is what im all about ‼️‼️‼️ that is the beauty of a liberated background char mc (dubious liberty ... sooner or later these connections r gonna bite them right in the arse)
anyway tl;dr i really enjoy the current characters dynamics w mc !!! im bouncing of the walls for future characters but make sure to rest, we are all eagerly but patiently waiting for whatever you have planned 🫶🏼
YESSS EXACTLY YOU GET IT 😭😭😭 i agree w everything you said abt mc basically having a front row seat to the entire scarabia situation slowly imploding in real time.. that was honestly one of my biggest motivations for putting them there in the first place 😭 i am unfortunately a PATHETIC book 4 enjoyer gulppp
OH YOU GET MY VIL AGENDA SO BAD i’ve always felt like pomefiore + scarabia have SO much unexplored potential in fics despite having some of the most fascinating dynamics/characters in the game.. vil especially bc by the time canon rlly focuses on him, most mcs are already deeply entangled w other stuff so his relationships sometimes dont get the same room to breathe early on 💔 which is EXACTLY why i wanted him there sooner let me INNNN
but YEAH i’m super glad the pre-established dorm mc thing is landing the way i hoped bc i really wanted the story to feel like these characters already existed in the world before.
AND THANK YOUUU MWA MWA MWA genuinely ILY FOR THESE ASKS VRO you have no ideaIM GIGGPINE
Summary: At Platform 9 3/4 and the train ride to Hogwarts for the first day of 6th year, Slytherin bashing, friend bashing, tension with family over house and chosen friendships, establishing deep cemented loyalties to the Snake Gang, bestie Draco x OC, Mattheo/OC mutual pining but worried over the implications of the war, 1POV
Notes: AU, Potter parents alive, Harry!twin OC (Livina Rose Potter, NN Rose, Liv, Livvy), Slytherin, characters aged up, Draco in his bestie era, OC has secret power than can change the tide of the war, Snake crew bloodsworn to Rose TOG style; just a little scene that played in my brain while going to sleep one night, idk if anyone other than me will like it, might not continue but I just wanted to write this out for my own sanity bc I couldn't stop thinking about it, not beta read, bad writing, banner from @sweetmelodygraphics
“What did Malfoy say to you on the platform?” Harry interrogates as soon as the door to our compartments reaches its close.
“Geez, how long were you holding that one in?” I laugh, taking a seat across from Hermione and Ron, leaving Harry’s spot open for him by the window.
“I’m serious, Liv.” He sits, body entirely facing me.
“Okay?”
“What did he say?” His voice is harsh.
I roll my eyes and chuckle in disbelief at the way he instantly goes into what I call “Savior” mode.
“Nothing important.” I say with a finality, hoping he dismisses the conversation at that. But of course he doesn’t.
He turns so that he’s addressing the three of us. “I think he’s a Deatheater.” Before I can laugh or tell him how ridiculous he’s being, he continues. “I think he’s a Deatheater and I want to know what he said to you.”
I think back to the brief interaction, mere moments ago when we were saying goodbye to our parents for the upcoming term.
My arms are wrapped around my father in a final hug. He kisses the top of my head and pushes me out to an arms length. “Let me get a good look at you before you go,” he jokes. “Yup, two arms, two legs and oh look at that! A head attached to the rest of your body! I expect all of those things to be there when we see you for Christmas.”
“James, enough,” our mother scolds, humor light in her voice. She smooths Harry’s tie for the 100th time.
“What?! I don’t have to worry about Harry! But, you never know with these Slytherins,” he laughs.
“James.” Mom’s voice is edged and leaves no room for argument.
“Sorry, honey” He lays a hand on my cheek. “You know I tease. Slytherin or not, I love you. You have a good heart, and you know right from wrong.” He affirms, as if these are traits that Slytherins are incapable of having.
“You know Slytherins aren’t monsters …” I say.
“Of course you aren’t. That’s what I was saying, darling.”
“No. You were saying I’m not a monster. Not Slytherins. Like there’s the rest of them, and then there’s me. A wayward Slytherin. Different.”
“Well, you are different.”
I step back. “No .. I’m not.” My voice hardens, as it always does when I’m forced to defend my house, to defend my friends.
“Let’s not do this now,” mom pleads. I’ve been having this argument the entirety of my academic career at Hogwarts, but it’s gotten significantly worse after the events of last year: the confirmation of Voldemort’s return and the murder of our Uncle Sirius. Harry’s vision had led us to the ministry under a ruse and ever since, dad has been extra tense.
“No, let's.” Harry interjects. “You know who her ‘friends’ are.” He says the word ‘friends’ as if it's coated in poison.
My mother attempts to lecture the two of them while I tune their voices out. It isn’t anything different than what I’d heard the entire summer. Instead, I look across the way, meeting Draco’s gaze.
His mother drops him off, rushing to evade the eyes of curious onlookers, but lingering to share the last few moments with her son. Lucius is absent, of course, which is why so many are looking. They know about what happened last year; the paper hasn’t stopped running articles on their family, all centered on his father’s stay in Azkaban.
Draco hushes his mother’s worrying, and though I am not close enough to hear, I am sure he is reassuring her and putting on a strong face for her. His back is to me as he gives her a hug goodbye, whispering something softly to her that causes her eyes to flash and focus on mine. She gives me a tight smile before turning her attention back to her son. He gently grabs his trolley of luggage, steady hands leaving her shaking ones, giving her the opportunity to apparate away.
His entire body is stiff, rigged with pressure and expectations that no one our age should carry. Eyes back to mine, I can see everything he’s hiding from the rest of the world. I can see beyond the mask, I can see to Draco. His pain. His mourning. His innocence. His fear. His desperation. His courage. I see him. My closest friend, my brother. I see a soldier, one like no other.
“Livina Rosalie Potter, you listen to me.” My father scolds. “Stop zoning out. You’ve been doing that all summer.”
“Because you’ve been saying the same things and it’s a bunch of hogwash that I don’t care to listen to all summer.” I respond, full rebellion on display.
He flubbers for just a moment, temporarily speechless. “I don’t care what house you’re in. You are a Potter. You are a symbol in this war. You are a weapon. And you are naive to believe they don’t see that.”
“Who are ‘they’?” I sass, knowing full well who he means.
His face is tense with a quiet rage. “I will pull you out of school if I have to. I have half a mind to ask Dumbledore a personal favor and have you switched to Gryffindor house so that your brother can watch over you because apparently of the two of you, he’s the only one who can use his brain.”
“James!” My mother gasps, shocked.
“No, Lily,” he hisses. “If Liv can’t take care of herself, then someone else will have to do it for her.” He looks to me again. “You aren’t making smart decisions. You’re putting yourself in incredible danger. They aren’t your friends and even if they aren’t active participants yet, they will be soon and they aren’t worth saving. Don’t you ever forget what a threat they pose to you or how dangerous and violent they can be.”
My entire being vibrates with a rage so fierce that it feels as if I am boiling straight from my very core. My fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching around an object that isn’t there. I can feel that hidden, secret power within me screaming to be unleashed with my anger, begging to be let free, desperate to defend those it perceives to be threatened.
Just as I open my mouth to release my outrage, fury coiling inside of me, a strong shoulder rams into mine, causing the trolley that the offending arm was pulling to go tumbling. Trunks scatter. An owl screeches as its cage topples to my feet. Ryu. (Pronounced Rue). Draco’s owl.
“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologizes, terse and polite. He bends close to where I had fallen, gathering his discarded items. He looks to me as he feigns struggling with one trunk in particular, and speaks so that no other may hear. “Don’t. Control it. You are strong. Stifle it and wait. You hold the fate of the future within you and this is not our time to fight. You fight, we fight. But this is not that fight.” He stands straight, trolley re-packed and stacked neatly. “Sorry, again.” he says loud enough for my family to hear, standing straight and holding his hand out.
I place my scarred hand into his, using his strength to both pull me to my feet and to ground me in a wave of calm and control.
“See you in class,” he dismisses and continues his walk to the train.
“Ugh, Harry, will you just drop it? Please?”
“Why? So he did say something to you?’ His eyes narrow as he glares at me. “You need to quit hanging out with him. With all of them. I don’t know why you aren’t taking this seriously. You need to listen to dad, and you need to listen to me.”
“Here we go,” Ron huffs, throwing his hands in the air and leaning back into his seat.
“You’re not the boss of me, Harry. Now why don’t you just piss off and leave my friends alone? Why are you like this?”
“Your friends?” he scoffs, unbelieving “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They’re on the wrong side of this war and you know it! You’re absolutely stupid if you think any different.”
“I’m … stupid?” I question with the eerie calm that got me sorted into Slytherin to begin with. “Stupid because I won’t let my brother, my “Holier-Than-Thou,-Can-Do-No-Wrong” brother tell me who I can and can’t be friends with? I’m stupid ….” my voice rises as I stand in confrontation, “because I’m defending the people I care about? The people who, mind you, you know nothing about. Nothing other than your own prejudice and disgusting bigotry!”
“Bigotry?!” Harry, also standing now, exclaims in shock. “That’s rich coming from the girl defending someone who called Hermione a Mudblood, defending someone who is the literal spawn of the man responsible for this war? All of their parents were in that room last year, hunting us! Hunting you! They killed Sirius! Does that mean nothing to you?!” He huffs again in the pretentious way that only Harry can scoff. “So yes, you’re stupid to continue to associate with people trying to hunt you and your family. You’re stupid for thinking that when the time comes, they won’t hand you over to Voldemort and betray you. You’re stupid if you think they haven’t thought of doing the killing curse themselves! No better way to impress your father than by personally killing his enemies, right?!”
My brows are lifted in disbelief, in complete awe at his ignorance and cruelty. “I’ve known them for years, Harry.” I say softly. “I know them in ways you never will. None of you will. I trust them and I love them. You’re wrong.” I turn to Hermione, “Tell him,” I rush, pleading. Desperate for him to understand. For someone to be on my side. “Tell him how Draco apologized to you! Tell him how Enzo walked you to your dorm after that Ravenclaw was a little too grabby, tell him how the next day that same Ravenclaw was in the hospital wing!”
Hermione glances between Harry and I, uncomfortable and distressed. “Those things only happened because of you. You made them do those things.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, as if she didn’t want us to hear, didn’t want to participate in this fight between siblings. She looks at me, eyes soft and shy, but stern. “He’s right, Liv … they’re bad just the same as their parents. They’re dangerous. Being friendly inside of the school walls is one thing … it’s not going to be the same.” She moves her eyes to look at her hands, hiding from my anger as if in shame of admitting her bias against my friend group.
I shake my head, looking up so as to restrain the tears that so desperately want to fall. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you .. both of you,” I look to Harry whose face has that smug vindicated look to it. “You don’t know a damn thing. And neither does dad.” I turn, leaving him gaping at me.
I don’t see him rush to reach for his cloak, nor do I notice his unseen presence following me afterwards, lingering distantly enough so as to remain undetected but close enough to not lose me in my fleeing.
I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that I don’t have to see his face, don’t have to listen to the “Great” Harry Potter spew hate in front of me. He doesn’t know them like I do. He doesn’t know anything. He’s blinded by hatred.
“There you are, beautiful,” a voice wraps around me at the same time a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me in for a hug. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, here I am.” I shrug, falling in step beside him.
His eyes turn to me harshly, “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, Enzo,” I sigh.
“My favorite snake is upset and we haven’t even gotten to school yet. Something happened.”
“You’re sweet to be protective,” I pat the hand still holding on to me, guiding me through the train.
“After everything we’ve been through?” his hand moves to grab at mine. “Always.”
I look into his eyes, steadfast, strong, and loyal. Like all of theirs. A fierceness we all hold connected to each other. “I know,” I soften, “It’s the same thing it always is. The great, ‘open-minded’ Potters. Same thing my dad’s been on and just Harry being, well, Harry.”
Enzo’s face contorts with sympathy. “I’m sorry, dear.”
We stop at the door to a compartment that I assume holds the rest of our ragtag group. “You ready for the chaos?”
“Always,” I respond, mimicking him, as he slides the door open, using an arm around my shoulder to pull me in alongside him. “Look who I found wandering about all melancholy like!” Enzo announces. I let out a small laugh as I gently slap his arm off of me.
“What’s wrong?” Mattheo asks, eyes flicking to mine with a somber sincerity. I flop ungracefully in the open seat next to Draco, throwing my legs up across the way to rest in Mattheo’s lap. He immediately wraps his fingers around my ankles.
“Just annoying family shit.”
“Been there,” Theo jokes. We all just stare blankly at him. “What?” he defends, “We aren’t making jokes about this mess yet?” He looks at each of us, desperate for just one of us to laugh with him. Draco and I lock eyes and that’s all it takes for the two of us to bust into laughter. The others join in and we all laugh at Theo rather than his poorly timed, crappy joke.
After the laughter dies down, the mood sobers again as we think on Theo’s words. “How are you guys? Really?” I ask gently.
“We’ll get through it, Bella.” Theo whispers, laughter gone from his eyes.
“Together,” Draco confirms, nodding his head once and gripping my hand on the seat next to him. The others nod in agreement. All but Mattheo.
“And you, Matty?” I hold his gaze. All of them seem to have lost the light in their eyes over the summer, but him especially. It’s like there's no one home, no fight left. But I know better. I know him better. He feels everything, he feels too much. He’s the strongest and most ruthless fighter of us all. A true warrior.
His grip on my ankles tightens. “We’ll be okay,” he reassures me, but the sentiment dies there, it doesn’t reach the rest of his face. "Stop flirting with her with your stupid accent." He glares sideways at Theo who throws his hands up in surrender.
“Let’s talk about Harry,” he says, eyes hardening. “What did he say to you?”
“Oh you know, that I’m stupid, have to pick my side, tried to ban me from speaking to you lot, called you all bigots who only think of yourselves, and …” I trail off, hesitant to upset Mattheo further.
“And?” Draco prompts, face stiff, contorted with a silent rage.
“And,” I take a steadying breath, “And he said that you’re only pretending to be my friend until the time is right for you to kill me to impress him.” I roll my eyes at his dramatics in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He’s just pissy because his little crush Ginny is bumping uglies with Dean Thomas and here I am with all you pretty boys fawning over me, desperate for my love.”
The trunks overhead thud around, probably in response to the train vibrating over a particular rough patch of track.
Together, we share an unfiltered laugh at the recurring joke. There have been rumors at school that we’re in some kind of reverse Harem and we think it’s bloody hysterical to push the rumors on. Because what other reason would the toughest guys in school have for wanting to be friends with a Potter? Obviously because we’re fucking.
“But one of us is prettier than the rest, right?” Draco teases from my right, knowing of my affections for one Mr. Mattheo Riddle, who I am proud to say I did not glance to when Draco said that.
“Oh piss off, Draco. You’re horrid!” I shove him into the wall, as he chuckles at my misfortune.
Mattheo hides a small grin, eyes downcast in an attempt to hide his barely visible blush.
I’ve always been his girl, just the same as he’s been mine. Anyone who matters knows it. But it’s never been said, never truly been claimed or acted upon. At first it was just a youthful bashfulness, a fear of rejection and the potential loss of a sincere friendship. But then as the war grew closer and times became more tense, it became an unspoken but uniformly understood agreement that our connection is already a threat and dangerous enough without adding labels and romance to it. But still, our claim to each other lingers in the air around us, a living thing, the same as the oxygen we breathe: unseen but existing nonetheless.
In fact, each of the boys had tried to push Pansy and I away from them at the very start. But we’re family. We’re loyal and headstrong in our support to one another. They are mine and I am theirs. To the very end. Potter, Malfoy, Riddle, Order, Death Eater. None of it matters. We don’t belong to our names, to our parents or their agendas. We belong to each other and that’s it. A third invisible “side” in this war. Perhaps the most dangerous any of us could be in. Outwardly linked to one, but realistically and eternally, truthfully, bonded to each other. To me. Pansy Parkinson. Lorenzo Berkshire. Theodore Nott. Blaise Zabini. Draco Malfoy. Mattheo Riddle.
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Dainsleif's dick being infused with abyss energy(?) like his arm-
Like yea Tartaglia's last form's dick, yeah Ito's oni dick, yeah zhongli's dragoon dick,but what of Dain???? That shit must be magical 😩
⦿ 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 ┃ eyes up here princess with dainsleif
CW. NSFW (MDNI), big dick! dain, fem! reader, use of words (princess), established relationship, teasing, first-time sex, implied oral, sex w/out penetration (thigh job and dick job? is that even a thing? idk, just read it to find out), dirty talk, magical dick (i am NOT sorry), mention of abyss princess lumine
AN. the new archon quest 🧍🏻♀️ it felt like a fever dream and it's a whole ass year again before we get to see this man so i am making it my mission to let him and his abyss-energy-fused dick live in my mind rent-free. also, if the anon that sent me this is still here to witness me posting this, hello :D this took me by surprise bcs i planned it to be short but here we are ig
it wasn't every day that you get dain's attention all to yourself.
you would often see him somewhere, busy, as always. sometimes, you would find yourself conversing with a few locals when dain tries to do things on his own as he would reason out that it's for your own safety. or you'd be up and about some part of the region searching for the abyss princess as to what he currently puts as his top priority.
these repeating turn of events would, most of the time, make you question whether you really matter to him seeing as he's always invested in things unrelated to you or what interests you. you don't ask too much from him but sometimes, a little attention would be nice, or have him answer all the questions that run inside your head.
yet, when dain would see that familiar expression painting your face as you make your bed for the night, he would put everything on hold and indulge more in what you'd request. he does make up for you, well, you have no complaints when he does because he'd always be there in a heartbeat for every beck and call.
hence why you're laid out on your bed, legs spread out with him toying with your already sore clit.
the idea of having sex had never once danced in between each conversation you'd have with dain. you'd rather spend the time to catch up on each other's day and sort out a route to where you both want to go next. it never fazed you when some people asked how your relationship with dain is going, not even bothered when some old women from liyue dramatically gasped as you've never been that intimate with your lover.
as the tension builds up throughout the months of overhearing people gossiping about their partners or be the victim of a drunk local telling you the tale of their sexual escapades, it draws out some images in your head. would dain be like the same as those oni's you've heard about? or have an impressive length similar to this one tale about a dragon lord? heck, would he have a dick that grows unrealistically big just like with the harbinger that you've heard about?
but who fucking cares anyway? you're about to get the real deal right now.
"what a curious mind you have there, princess." dain mindlessly mused as he press soft kisses along your thighs, leaving you breathless as he presses himself closer to your aching core. you can feel the heat from the big hard tent on his pants as he rubs himself to the dampness of your cunt. "i thought that eating you out could already satiate your pretty little head but you still want... what? what is it that you want from me again?"
he taunts, amused when he hears a cry from your disheveled form. "ah, didn't i say to tell me if you want something?"
"but it's embarrassing to say it!" you can't even fully reason out how humiliating it is for you to casually ask him that you want to see his dick as you let out another moan when he lightly thrusts his clothed cock on your core. he doesn't even let up, continuing his cruel pace in rubbing his aching dick on your already sensitive clit.
"p-please! i just, a-ah, want to see your d-dick!"
"say what again, princess?"
having enough of his teasing, you went to give your best in bending your body just to reach the big tent on his pants. "i want to see your dick dain and... i want you to fuck me, please."
you can feel a rush of heat all over your skin, your eyes quickly darting to the side to avoid dain's amused pair. a chuckle was all you heard before you felt his hands gently laying you down back to bed. in response to his pleased titter, you scoffed and gave him a quick glare.
"i'm sorry but you're just irresistible when you're so honest with me." he paused as he takes a sharp intake of air when he pulls out his leaking cock from the confines of his pants.
your eyes widen at the sight. no, it's not because he's as big as what you heard like the one of an oni or he has that delicious curve like that of the dragon cock but it's because the hue is unlike any other, the dark blue pulses as beads of white litters on the tip. fuck, when dain gave his dick a quick stroke, you can see how it grew a bit larger in his palm.
you drool just by imagining how it would feel inside of you.
"eyes up here, princess." he gave your thighs a light smack, pulling your attention back up before you felt the cockhead rubbing so gingerly on your little nub, smearing your cum on your lower lips.
"you're so eager for me, huh?" he can feel you trembling the more he pays attention to your aching core, gliding the head back and forth your lower lips, enough to push the head inside your hole but easy for him to just pull right back out. he's testing out the waters, waiting for more of your reactions and he could only see you enjoying yourself being please with the tip of his dick.
"just look at you, so wet and ready for me." and you are, feeling your arousal pool and spill right out of your needy hole while dain keeps making a mess out of it. your hips desperately buck right up, chasing for the head but he kept you pinned down on the soft mattress as he continues teasing you.
"dain, please, want to feel more of you." your hand went to grab his arms, giving it a light squeeze that you knew would get him to listen to you.
but it did the complete opposite.
"didn't you say that you want to see my dick?"
before you could argue back, dain had gently straightened both your legs upward, his strong arms locking you in place before pushing the dark blue cockhead in between your thighs. "been wanting to do this for so long," he uttered with a low groan, his body shivering when he thrusts his cock in the middle of your soft flesh, the rushed and hasty movements of the head prods at your clit. "you look so pretty like this, just letting me use you."
you gasped for air when he purposely prods at your puckering hole, angling his abyss-energy-fused cock to dive in and out of your thighs. your eyes caught a glimpse of how each streak of white glow, the nerves pulsing as he ruts himself so needily on you.
"so keep your pretty eyes on me and maybe, if you managed to do so, i might just give you what you want."
and you did, you desperately tried your best to keep looking at dain and just watching how he use your thighs to get off. it was a rare sight to see dain lose himself, tottering over the warmth and softness that covers his dick.
at first, he was scared that he might scare you off, thinking how unusual his cock looks. compared to what he thought you'd prefer to see in between your legs, about to rail the innocence out of you, his was far off the scales.
but when he saw your eyes almost sparkled when he pulled out his dick, hands so damn eager to touch him, and both your lips spilling out how much you want more of him just sends him over the edge. his pace quickened the more he stares at your needy form, enjoying the way your eyes fluttered close whenever he brushed against your hole before proceeding in sliding his cock back on your thighs.
"i'm so close, fuck, you feel so good 'round me like this, princess." and fuck, yes, you can feel more of his pre-cum ooze around the head and coats more of your already slick skin. it felt so dirty, so filthy to watch him fuck himself with your thighs and you felt dirtier when you were enjoying how his large dick, fused with the same abyss energy as his arm, slides back and forth your thighs.
"cum for me please," you whispered, urging your lover to release his load on your skin. within seconds, dain stopped his thrusts as he buried his cock between your legs, pressing it tighter as he shoots his load on your flesh, slowly having the thick globs of his cum drip down on your core.
while dain goes to steady his breathing, you went to open up your legs to see how much cum had covered your body, the scent of sex causing your head to fizzle out that you had nothing in your mind but the need to see his dick filling you up.
dainsleif was shocked when you went to reach out for his cock, the keenness in your eyes captivating as you focused on his dick.
"wanna see how it looks as you fuck me." your request came like a cry, a whimper of desperation. and you can feel the way dain's dick twitched on your hand.
From time to time, I stumble upon some fandom post claiming that Aerys did disinherited his son, Rhaegar. I guess given how much of polarizing Rhaegar in within the asoiaf community I shouldn't be surprised. I do want to offer my own insight, though bc I believe there is some misconception going on.
We do know that Aerys and Rhaegar had not the smoothest relationship (can anyone really blame Rhaegar for not liking his dad?). Aerys was xenophobic towards Rhaegar's daughter, at the court there was a growing tension between those who supported the King and those who supported the King's heir, some of Aerys advisers suggested to disinherit Rhaegar. However, there is no proof that he actually did so.
Viserys' is stated as Aerys' heir only AFTER Rhaegar's death and not before. The event of Rhaegar dying at the Trident happens before pregnant Rhaella and Viserys escape to Dragonstone:
When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone but princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as hostage against the Dorne
The World of Ice and Fire.
It's clear that Viserys becomes Aerys' heir only after his brother's death.
Now, let's move on into the less clear situation regarding Viserys and Aegon ( son of Rhaegar and Elia). Here we get contradicting signals so I guess I could make a case for both scenarios.
A. Viserys becomes heir over Aegon:
The quote I shared above supports this reading. Plus, we already established that Aerys was paranoid that the Dorne had betrayed his former heir (Rhaegar) in battle so it's not far fetched to think that he wouldn't want a heir who would have dornish influence on the throne. Because unlike Aegon who had his dornish side aside from being a Targaryen child, Viserys was a Targ on both sides . Considering the history of intermarriage of Targaryen and the superiority complex some of them had, I could see Aerys overlooking the rightful heir for his uncle.
B. Viserys becomes the heir after Aegon's tragic end:
The world of Ice and Fire is supposedly written in universe by Maester Yandel some years post Robert's Rebellion. Could the Maester knowing that Aegon wouldn't outlive his father ( and grandfather) for much longer, go ahead and mention Viserys as being the new heir a sort period of time before it actually happened?
Because in the actual books we have a Targaryen pov ( Dany!) who twice refers to Aegon as heir without mentioning that he was disinherited by her father.
Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes.
AGOT, DAENERYS I
Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper's dogs had murdered her brother's son when he was still a baby at the breast.
ADWD, DAENERYS I
Dany there indicates that had Aegon lived, he would have become Seven Kingdoms' King, the sixth of his name. Which would only be possible if he wasn't actually disinherited.
Another point favouring this scenario is that Dany knows her family's history only through Viserys. If Viserys was chosen by his father as the heir over his baby nephew, he's exactly that kind of prideful prick that would tell his sister about his "supposed superiority" that made him special even among other Targs.
To conclude, I could see either a or b scenario being true. None that it actually matters now where both Aegon and Viserys are as dead as Rhaegar and Aerys. What I wanted to clear up is the fact that Rhaegar remained his father's heir until his death.
Returning to business as usual on the ranch is hardly monotonous with Abby around. New faces and old trails make for good company, even if it means getting sidetracked.
Pairing: cowpoke!abby x reader (sort of)
Content: established relationship, brief cowboy ellie, fluff, poor attempts at writing southern accents (i dont even think theyre in the south), reader isn't described, sort of a part two?, author needs a cowboy partner asap, i know less about horses than before, i don't think any warnings apply
A/N: the brainrot is brainrotting. i wanted to write cowboy ellie but then got distracted by both abby and the excitement of a motor vehicle. had a very specific song stuck in my head while writing this but now icant remember what it was (something colter wall??). anyway hopefully this is a fun read even tho its not too eventful (and also was not proofread lolz). planning to have more ellie in the next part if it ever gets written bc we're going to the CLERBBBB
WC: 1508
You haven’t met her yet, but you’ve felt the tension in the air like something’s about to snap into place.
She’s the rookie. The new kid. The hotshot from some bigger, richer ranch further west with a reputation that stirs more talk than her name—whatever it might be. She’s the racer on the back of a chestnut mare in a denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves and workboots that must’ve lost their shine long before she came here.
And she’s lunging in the ring outside the stables, faded black hat crooked, casting a stubborn shadow over the leafy tattoo wrapped around her forearm. Choppy brown hair brushes her shoulders and burns a color like coffee in the dying sunlight.
Not that you care. You’ve got places to be, and she’ll fall in with the rest of the wranglers eventually.
Gravel crunches some ways down the road behind you, but Abby doesn’t kill the ATV’s engine in time to sneak up on you completely. She comes coasting down the dusty path, toothpick hanging from the corner of her mouth as she grins sideways at you and rolls to a stop.
“You talk to ‘er yet?” she asks, and the sun flashes over the lenses of her aviators when she tilts her hat out of the way.
“Not yet. You?”
Abby shakes her head. “Heard she ain’t done too much talkin’ to anyone yet.”
“Uh-huh.” You plant your hands on your hips and nod. “What else’d you hear?”
“Well, what’d you hear?”
“I asked you first.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, jerking her head at you. “Get over here and I’ll tell you.”
“You’re an ass,” you tease, but hop up onto the quad’s grate so your back leans against hers.
“What, I get one record and you think we’re some big-timers?” Abby scoffs, nudging you with her shoulder. Her braid shifts in the humid breeze. “We got work to do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” is all you mumble as the ATV purrs back to life and jolts towards the barns in the distance. “Tell me what you heard.”
“Not much,” admits Abby. “I mean, not much you don’t already know. She’s got just about the same story as the rest of us. Some ribbons under her belt.”
Dust kicks up from the tires, funneling right past the mudflaps to gather on your jeans. “She got a name?”
“Relax. I’m gettin’ there.” Abby leans to the side to shoot you a skeptical, if halfhearted, glance. “What’re you tryin’ to get under her belt, too?”
“Abby.”
She laughs, then turns her focus back to the road. “Ellie,” she finally says. “Ellie Williams.”
“Alright.” The smell of fuel mingles with the freshness of the tallgrass scrolling by on either side, either one a welcome break from the tinge of manure drifting in from the neighboring fields.
“Just alright?”
“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to say?” you ask. “I don’t know the girl.”
“I got a good idea.” The engine cuts again. The two of you come to a stop in the shadows just outside one of the stables, before the open sliding doors that stare right out over the mountains. Abby twists to look at you head-on. “How ‘bout you just tell me when we’re good to go?”
----------
“Y’know—” Your nose crinkles as you squint against the sun, shifting in the saddle with every step the horse beneath you takes. “I thought Manny was helpin’ you with this run.”
It’s muscle memory—tacking, adjusting, swinging up into the seat. Practiced. Routine. But it never gets old. Not the cool tones of the mountains shattering the skyline on the far side of the valley, or the steady gait of the horses as they fall into step beside one another. And definitely not Abby.
“He was,” she confirms. One hand holds the reins while the other settles her sunglasses on the brim of her hat. “‘Til he got busy.”
“With?”
The corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile. “The usual.”
“Sure.” You raise a brow. “And who’s the usual this week?”
“Beats me,” says Abby with a shrug. “Long as it ain’t you, it ain’t my problem.”
“Speak for yourself. The last usual kept leavin’ him notes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In the wrong fuckin’ bunk.”
Another grin creeps across her lips as she looks back. Gold falls over her freckled face, flooding the scar on her cheek with light.
“A little light readin’ never hurt nobody,” she teases.
“You think?” You tilt your head, unable to avoid the same expression writing itself into your features. “Then next time—”
She’s drawing away, picking up pace.
“Hey, now,” you call, but she doesn’t seem to hear. You nudge your horse’s side to urge them on. Still, though, Abby’s got a good lead. She passes under the low-hanging branches of the trees bordering the path, through a set of rusted iron gates.
Then, she flicks the reins and takes off.
“Abby!” you shout, and with no choice left but to do the same, chase after her.
A cloud of dust stirs up behind her, but you ride right through it, and soon, the trail falls away.
“I thought you said you got work to do!”
She laughs, easing up and straightening to drop back and match your pace when you slow. Tallgrass rises on either side of the makeshift path—trampled dirt and dust and the curled-up bodies of flowers unlucky enough to fall into the path of passing hooves.
“We do,” she says. “That don’t mean we can’t take our time.”
“It’ll be dark soon, yeah?”
“Not that much time.” Abby rolls her eyes and smiles. “We’re just takin’ the scenic route.”
“You know where we’re goin’?” you check.
“Just c’mon.” Turning back to the trail ahead, she nudges her horse to a quicker gait. The unbuttoned front of her flannel flutters around her, giving way to the thin white tank top underneath.
The ground slopes down, further into the field, as the sun fades over the jagged peaks. Through the yellowed straw and the waves of rippling green, pops of color appear where bright flowers have pushed through the soil and bloomed.
“You ever been this way before?” asks Abby.
You shake your head. “Not that I remember.”
The field is glowing, burning under dusk’s light. She’s glowing with it.
“Well, then.” She shoots you a wink. “You’re in for a treat.”
Just like that, she’s off again.
The rough path winds down the ridges in the hill, between weeping trees with lazy, swaying branches that force you to duck. Over wooden planks laid out across the marshier parts of the lower pastures and a bridge where a dried-up river leaves a gash in the ground. Back up another slope, another patchy flower field, another grove.
Until Abby stops to look back at you.
The Ranch sprawls over the acres of land before the two of you, windows lit in the bunkhouse and the barns and lanterns burning alongside the settled paths. The dark shapes of other hands wander like ants across the grass, while the mingling shadows of cattle fill the squares of plains just below.
“Wait,” Abby urges. The horses paw boredly at the dirt, but, like you, remain in place as the warm summer breeze snakes around you. “Heard about this from a friend last time I was in town.”
You shoot her a curious glance.
“Don’t look at me.” She waves you away, grinning, and points towards the horizon instead. “Over there.”
The first stars are peeking through the bluish parts of the sky, just where it meets the hills. There’s a flash. A burst of red sparks.
“Fireworks?” Even from afar, their light unfurls over your face.
“Sure are.” Abby falls silent as the bang from the explosion crashes, muted, through the valley. “They had some leftovers from the fourth.” She sighs, then asks: “Some view, ain’t it?”
Another smattering of colorful bursts erupts over the hills. Another chorus of pops thunder over the grass. The sky changes from one color to the next, smoke gathering in thin gray wisps along the skyline, before you look away.
The lights dance in the lenses of Abby’s aviators where they’re still sitting on her hat, but don’t quite reach her eyes. She hasn’t been watching the fireworks at all; she’s been looking at you instead.
“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss her. “Some view,” you say against her lips.
“Anyway—” Clearing her throat, she straightens, then jerks her chin towards the cattle in the field below. “Race you down there.”
“Hey—”
But she’s already gone. Racing back down the hillside, still bathed in the far-off lights.
“You’re gonna owe me a drink!” she calls, though she’s already dropped out of view.
After a last glimpse at the fireworks blooming over the ranch, you pick up the reins again and turn to follow.
The flowers and the fireworks blur, blooming and bursting against the shaded countryside. Lining the hills and lighting the sky and leading you.
