[bun-nnybun]

Mdni 18+

Okay but can I just say Simon Riley who can’t help saying thank you over and over again while he basically sloppily makes out with your cunt it’s his favorite meal and he has to make sure you know just how thankful he is as he moans against your slick folds sucking on your clit like his life depends on it and he doesn’t stop after your first release or the second or the third he keeps going moaning and groaning like he’s the one being touched

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just ghost getting a text from a number he doesn't recognize, right?

He usually ignores them, has no interest in much of anything besides when he'll be sent back to base and what he'll eat the next day. But the words that only flick across his screen have him pausing, opening the text.

Unknown number: dad? Cam you pick me up(? My frriends dirched me and I feel weirf

And the thing is, ghost is no vigilante, hardly even a good person. But he knows too well what sort of situation this is. Has seen it, has played it, has been bystander to it. So he grabs his keys, checks his knife, texts back

You: where are you, kid?

He receives a location pin in return. Shit. Bad part of town for whoever this kid is to be in.

Ghost turns a thirty minute drive into a ten, though it doesn't feel fast enough. Rolls to a stop outside of some club, and spots you.

You, clearly more than drunk, supporting yourself against a fence while two men lean over you.

Ghost will make sure to call price about the bodies. Tried hard enough to make it look like a robbery gone wrong...the smashed in heads may prove that hard to believe. Whatever, not his problem, he's legally dead.

No, ghost is more concerned about you, blinking up at him without a hint of recognition "dad? ...m sorry."

"It's fine, kid," ghost grunts, pulls you by the hand until you can support yourself against him. "Let's get you someplace safe, yeah?"

In retrospect, putting the stranger who was definitely drugged alone in his bedroom without a note wasn't his brightest idea. Ghost doesn't exactly have a guest room, and having you sleep on what is functionally a concrete couch just seems cruel. So he spent the night covering up some impulsive decisions, then panicking when he realized he had no actual food in his apartment and running to the closest 24/7 shop.

Which is how he ends up dropping eight grocery bags on his apartment floor in the attempt to dodge a frying pan.

All credits to you, it leaves an extremely impressive hole in the wall. Lot of force for someone hungover and coming out of being drugged. You glare, wide-eyed, terrified and looking far younger than you had last night "who the hell are you?!"

Ghost, grunts, puts himself on the other side of the room, "I'm dad, apparently."

He completely sidesteps the next frying pan.

[thewitchblue]

“Put on your raincoat or I'll staple it to you, Jason.”

You said, exasperated. You had been telling Jason for years that drowning in rain didn’t make him cool, it made him stupid and ill-prepared. He complained,

“What’s wrong with my leather jacket?”

He sounded almost like you had wounded him. You looked at the small leather jacket in his hands. It was the only thing you managed to save after his death and he’s clung to it ever since you returned it to him. He’s never really moved things into the manor after his revival, so anything left there was from his childhood. It was you that bought Jason what you deemed necessary, but he needed to be reminded regularly to use the items you bought. 

You eyed the tiny leather jacket in his hands. His hands made the jacket look even smaller. You doubt it would fit even if he tried. You rolled your eyes and shoved the raincoat in his chest. You said flatly,

“You mean the leather jacket that you haven’t worn since you were fourteen? You went from 5’5 to 6’3 and gained over one hundred pounds of muscle since then, idiot.”

Jason grumbled, but he didn’t have a good comeback to that, so he gently took the raincoat from your hands like it was going to bite him. He knew better than to argue after all of the years of you quietly and steadily taking care of everyone in the household. The only reason he hadn’t torched every relationship in his life was because he loved you and he wasn’t going to be the reason you cry.

Jason glared at the floor, avoiding your piercing gaze like he was thirteen again while putting on the jacket you handed him and opening the door to leave. However, you tapped his shoulder to silently ask for him to turn around before he could take even one step out into the downpour. You gave him a look that made him roll his eyes and aggressively pull the zipper up without a word being spoken between you two. He stormed out before you could tell him to put the hood up as well.

You rubbed your temple and closed your eyes. You were the one who held everything together. When everybody was fighting and things were collapsing, you were the one to step in and duct tape everything until it’s functional again. You were the eldest and the only one in the family emotionally stable enough to keep everybody safe from each other and themselves.

Dick nearly made you collapse when he jumped onto your back in a full body hug. You stumbled and your knees buckled, but your hands immediately reached to grip his legs and glued him to your back like you always did when he was younger. 

Dick winced in sympathy after remembering that you were still recovering from a knee injury and climbed off of you before he could damage you even worse than he already had. He gave you an apologetic smile that made you roll your eyes. Dick would have been hurt by the small action if he couldn’t read the undeniable fondness lurking in your eyes perfectly.

“You know my knee is healing, duckling.”

That had been your nickname for him since the kids at school noticed Dick always trailed you as kids. He had clung to your side like you were a mother goose rather than his older sibling. You really were his mother goose, and he loved to call you his goose even all these years later. 

Dick spent the first few months at Wayne Manor glued to your side and acted like he was protecting you from the lurking thugs and muggers that neither of you ever saw without actively looking for each other. You had allowed it, and Dick had never felt more grateful for the sense of purpose it gave him.

Dick’s eyes flickered down to your left knee as guilt swept through him. He had seen the brace, but didn’t pay any attention to it before. He was so used to seeing braces and casts that they had faded into the background and you were always so strong that he often had to remind himself that he’s not a small kid any more. He was a full grown adult now and no normal person could reasonably haul him or handle his surprise acrobatics any more. 

You sat down on the nearby chair and readjusted your brace while Dick watched as if he had not realised you couldn’t handle his weight slamming into you until that moment. He acted like he was still that small child who flew more than walked, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. He still saw you as his mother goose  who could lift him with ease and the very sister who let him use you as a jungle gym.

Dick winced before an idea sprung in his mind. Was it stupid and inconvenient in every way? Yes, but it was the only thing that Dick could think would make it even a little bit right. Dick’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. Before you could question why he was acting weirdly out of nowhere, he scooped you into his arms. He snickered when you squeaked in surprise and whacked him in the chest.

“I’m going to carry you for the day.”

He said as if it made complete sense and that he was a genius for thinking of it. You gave him an unamused look, but Dick looked so proud of himself and you never had the heart to tell him no if it didn’t hurt anyone. You shifted in his arms with a stoic expression as if you were getting into a car and not into your younger brother’s arms. Dick’s arms didn’t falter as you shifted into a more comfortable position.

Dick looked happy to help you even a little bit for all of the years where you loved and carried him. He didn’t care how heavy you were nor how inconvenient the day just became for both of the people involved.

“Fine, but you are a horse if anyone gives us weird looks.”

You sounded like you were already sick of his nonsense, but Dick told you that it was a deal and that was that. You made a vague gesture in the direction of Damian’s barn to steer Dick outside. 

You think that you saw Damian leave through a small and normally forgotten side door with a scowl and Titus at his heels. You needed to find out why he looked upset before Alfred found the torn up flowerbeds. Dick followed your directions easily. He had learned all of your gestures and expressions after spending so many years by your side.

Damian was upset but rushed to hide it when he looked up and saw his two favourite siblings. He awkwardly held the ball in his hand that he had been throwing with Titus as if that would dismiss you before you could make his emotions a bigger deal than he thinks they should be. 

You gave Damian a look that told him that he wasn’t getting out of this and Dick had a serious expression that mirrored the exact same message. Damian rolled his eyes and sat on the nearby bench. His hand absentmindedly pet Titus as the dog sat beside him obediently.

“It’s Jon. He was sent on an off-world mission with the Lanterns and I… I’m concerned for his safety. It’s stupid, but I’m upset that I have no way to help him. If he was hurt…. My last words weren’t a true reflection of my thoughts.”

Damian finally admitted in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. You whacked Dick on the chest until he lowered you onto the bench beside Damian with Dick moving to sit on the other side. You carefully wrapped an arm around Damian and tucked him against your chest for him to listen closely to your beating heart. Damian loved listening to heart beats because it reminds him of life and the beauty that comes with it. You told him kindly,

“Jon is probably feeling the same way. I’m sure he misses you more than you think.”

Damian looked like he didn’t believe you, but the way you patted his head soothed him enough to accept it for the moment. You made a mental note to text Jon that your brother wanted to apologise once his phone could work again.

Damian's face twisted into confusion when Dick picked you up again and adjusted you until you were comfortable when you hissed in pain. Damian knew that Dick was always fairly affectionate with you given your lengthy past together, but this seemed excessive even for him. Damian asked as if he didn’t know how to feel, 

“What is Richard doing?”

You sighed heavily when Dick neighed like a horse rather than explaining himself, but what had you expected from Dick after being given the role of horse? You explained in an exhausted tone,

“This is my horse. He wanted to carry me for the day.”

Damian didn’t know how to handle this information, but he let it go because he had no idea what to say to something like that. Damian stared as you directed Dick out of the garden and only looked away when Titus tried to playfully jump onto him to snatch the ball out of his hand.

You hit Dick again and nodded in the direction of the couch. Tim was hunched over his laptop like a shrimp. You knew Tim was freezing and exactly where his favourite blanket. There was only one blanket that made Tim warm enough to sleep comfortably, and his exhaustion hung off him like a heavy weight. Dick hesitated, but he let you down nonetheless when you lightly hit his face. He was treating you like you were made of glass.

You smiled softly at your younger brother and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders then carefully took his laptop to prevent it from getting damaged when it inevitably slid off. Tim always slept like the dead and you knew it would be impossible to wake him up. 

Tim rolled onto his side and held a nearby pillow like it was a teddy bear. You smiled softly and made a note to get him a real teddy bear with the plan already being formed in your head. He loved to cuddle in his sleep, and you were surprised that it took you this long to think of it.

“Sweet dreams, bird brain.”

You whispered and squeezed his shoulder lovingly before turning back to Dick and frowning in concern. You loved your siblings, but you worried about Tim’s health more than the others. While all of them are self-destructive, Tim always lost himself in his head and it led to more injuries that you knew he could have avoided if he was able to focus on the task at hand rather than the next seven steps before step one was even completed.

“Goosey, you ok?”

Dick asked with concern breaking into his voice. He had noticed the heavy silence landing on your shoulders like it always does. Somedays, it felt like you were everybody's mother rather than their older sister. Tim only ever listened to you when it came to his health and safety, and it was obvious every time you gave him orders.

“How do you do that?”

Dick whispered as you directed him away from the sleeping boy. You looked at your younger brother with a warm expression. It didn’t seem like a big deal to you, but it was a massive deal to everybody else. You were the only one who can get him to listen, and people have begun to weaponise it. They had begun to use your name like someone would say they were telling mom on them. You shrugged before saying quietly,

“I treat him like a person, not a problem.”

Dick winced. The pattern of Bruce's and Dick's overprotection never really went away, only lessened over time. You kept them all together with terrible glue at that point because falling apart wasn't an option in your mind.

You knew what people needed and when they needed it. You never flinched when they fell apart or told you their problems through tears. You took care of them the way you had learned through trial and error. Every year that passed, your techniques became a little bit better until they had become perfect. You had something for everyone like an internal database designed to keep everybody as safe as they will allow you to do.

“Onward, my steed! We are joining in the war against Bruce! He hasn’t looked away from the BatComputer in two days. Sir Alfred needs his backup army.”

Dick nearly fell with how hard he started laughing. He shook his head with an amused smile lighting up his face. Your limbs tightened around him just as he began running. He laughed louder when you squeaked in surprise. This led to him getting a punch to his shoulder. You were pouting now, but Dick knew that your pouting would end if you could get Bruce to look away from the case he had been obsessing over for weeks.

Dick sat you down somehow gentler than last time he set you down. You gave him a look that told him he’s being overdramatic and it’s not the first time you needed a knee brace. It certainly won’t be the last time either.

Dick and you turned all the attention onto Bruce as Alfred emerged from a forgotten shadow. Alfred gave you a stare that said everything without a single word needing to be spoken. Bruce needed his family and one person wasn’t going to be enough. Your eyes turned to Dick while you told him warmly,

“I need my little duckling.”

Dick felt his heart swell. He knew at that moment that he would do absolutely anything for you, regardless of what it would be that you needed from him. His Goose wasn’t going into this fight alone. He would do anything to make you proud of him.

“What’s the game plan, Goosey?”

Dick asked. You smiled fondly at your little brother before getting right into business by asking Alfred what he’s tried. You had a secret weapon that you would rather keep as a last resort if possible.

“Unfortunately, my dear, I have tried everything that normally works.”

You cursed quietly, but understood by the look that Alfred gave you that he wasn’t in the slightest sad for your misfortune. You stuck your tongue out at the retreating butler and huffed as he retreated from the room. You looked at Dick to tell him to either do what you say or shut up before approaching Bruce. He leaned close to the screens and rapidly typed on a document on one screen while watching another screen filled with photos of the crime scene.

“I’m tired, dad. Can we go to sleep?”

Dick’s eyes widened, but he obeyed your order to shut up and watched. He was curious where you were going to take it. You never call Bruce your dad, and Bruce knew it. Bruce treasured every time he heard you call him dad. He leaned back into his chair and your hands went up to his tense shoulder. Dick watched in fascination as Bruce relaxed immediately under your warm hands. Bruce gave his work one last look before making the decision to join you as he carefully saved all of his word and stood. Dick watched in disbelief as Bruce took your hand to guide you to the room that you claimed as yours when you first came to the manor. Dick didn’t realise how easy it was to make Bruce give in, especially when it came to his own health. 

Somehow, you once again ended up in someone’s arms. This time, Bruce scooped you into his arm to help you up the stairs because he knew about your knee injury and how difficult stairs are to climb. Dick shook with silent laughter until you gave him a glare that promised violence if he dared to leak this secret weapon. 

Bruce felt like dad of the year every time you asked for his help to sleep, even if it was fake most of the time. He wanted to be there for his little girl who grew up too fast for him to keep up with. Bruce was stretched too thin as a new dad with no idea how being a parent worked in the slightest, but he couldn’t get your big, sorrowful eyes out of his head and he found himself signing the paperwork before he even noticed. You were silent for the first two years. A therapist told him your silence was very likely a trauma response and that sent Bruce on a mission to give you the justice that you deserved. You were like a ghost haunting the manor, so Bruce taught you how to fight so this never happens to you again.

Bruce never did give you justice. The person who hurt you had been killed by someone already and it only made you feel hollow when he told you about it. Bruce tried to be a dad, but he was seventeen and forged the legal documents to make himself appear as an adult. He couldn’t stop when his paternal urge was yanking him to you and your haunted eyes. He knew that look well. He had that look himself the night his parents died. 

Bruce now takes every single crumb of fatherhood he has whenever you ask for it. He didn’t care if it was fake because he still got to hold you in his arms and fall asleep with you like you were still that little girl he loved with his entire heart. He still got to wrap you in his arms and tuck you to his chest like his large body could shield you from anything.

Dick was speechless as he watched you disappear behind the corner with Bruce squeezing you tighter while murmuring something into your hair. You gave Dick one final look that gave him another warning to trust you and keep the others away for the next twenty minutes.

You were in another pair of arms and wondering why your life came to this. Your knee wasn’t that bad, surely. You sighed, but accepted your new role of teddy bear once you felt Bruce begin to fall asleep. His arms were snugly wrapped around you and there was no escape without waking him up. It was a small price to pay if it kept Bruce safe. You slumped but you weren’t sure if it was from relief that he’s actually sleeping or defeat that you had to sacrifice yourself for it.

You sighed when Bruce finally fell asleep. He had you entirely trapped in a matter of minutes. There was no point in squirming or trying to wiggle out from his heavy arms because he’ll only cling harder and pull you right back in. You were aware of this, but you were willing to accept the arrangement. You were always willing to sacrifice yourself for the people you love. 

Your eyes snapped towards the door when you heard it open only to be met with four sets of eyes with two more complaining in a whisper about being unable to see. Your gaze found Dick and narrowed in a way that terrifies everybody it's directed towards.

“What do you think you're doing?”

You hissed quietly at your gathered siblings. Jason was dripping on the wood floorboards, Damian looked embarrassed to even be there, Cass was watching you very closely, Tim was yawning, and Dick was clearly the ringleader that gathered everybody.

They shoved each other through the door until they all crossed the threshold. It seemed like nobody wanted to make the first move.

Everybody froze when they saw Bruce stir, but he didn’t wake up. There were many sighs of relief before Tim finally gave in and rubbed your free arm until you opened it with an eye roll. He slid right in like he belonged there and fell asleep nestled comfortably in your side. Your eyes turned to the siblings and knew exactly why they were doing this. Dick didn’t want you to sacrifice yourself alone.

Tim turned limp in your arms to the point you worried he was going to slide off. Your bed was not made for eight people, but you knew they were going to make themselves fit when Cass chose to sandwich herself between you and Bruce. She made herself comfortable and closed her eyes in contentment. 

Dick dragged Damian while he halfheartedly squirmed. Damian gave in immediately once he was laid on top of you and didn’t completely squash you under his weight. At least he was placed on top of his favourite sibling, so he couldn’t complain too much.

Dick laid across your lap like he did when he was a kid and relaxed when your hand rubbed his head affectionately.

Jason shifted awkwardly at the doorway. He didn’t know where he would fit or even if he could anymore. He was too large to join everybody else, who all found their place easily. He didn’t have a special place on you like the others seemed to have. You glared at him when he began to slowly back out and said in a quiet but stern tone,

“I don’t care where you fit, but make yourself fit. I don’t care that you are 6’3 and 220 pounds of muscle.”

Jason should have known better, really. He should have known that you wouldn’t let him go so easily. You didn’t care one bit so long as he wasn’t left alone. He stood frozen for a long moment before shaking his head in disbelief and trudging over in defeat. Where would he even fit? This was the worst game of Jenga in existence.

Jason made it a point to be obnoxious about it. He plucked Damian up and flopped onto your stomach before setting Damian back, this time against Jason instead. Damian squirmed out of his loose grip and rolled onto your chest just to avoid touching Jason. Jason silently laughed until Damian purposefully kicked him. Then Jason grabbed both of his ankles and pinned them down.

Tim didn’t even stir when you pulled him tighter against you as if you were protecting him from any stray slaps or kicks. You knew from experience that Dick kicked in his sleep and Jason thrashed like he was trapped in a nightmare that he could never escape, which only got worse after his revival. 

Damian slept with a knife and barely remembers to sheath it without your nightly reminder. You knew that he was a light sleeper and needed to be in a place completely silent. If you so much as brushed a strand of hair out of his face, he’ll startle awake and reach for the knife that you confiscated before touching him. Tonight will be no different.  

Tim looked like and acted like he was dead every time he slept, so you made sure to keep a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. It helped avoid the heart attack he almost gave you when you saw his pale body slumped like its lifeless and entirely unreachable from the outside world. It’s horrifying without the confirmation that he’s alive.

Cass remained entirely still, but seemed to shift into a fighting stance while she slept from the years that her biological father used to wake her up in the middle of the night to fight off anyone he could hire. Her body never forgot his teachings on a subconscious level.

Dick was somehow a cuddler and also a kicker. He had kicked you in the ribs then smooshed himself against you until there was no space left. That was why you made him sleep on your lap. You lied that your lap was so much more comfortable, and he bought it. His legs were free to kick the air while his arms wrapped around your hips like you were the most comfortable pillow in the world with his head pressed on your thighs like a welcomed weight.

You watched as your siblings fell asleep one by one. You looked at your siblings with a love that spread until it felt all consuming. It didn’t matter that all of the various weights were slowly crushing you or that your siblings all chose to sleep around you despite claiming to do this to keep Bruce from trapping you for the next few hours. You closed your eyes and whispered fondly,

“Goodnight, my birdies. I love you all.”

[ghostlyfeargasm]

Bucky Barnes eating your pussy from behind👀

You keep squirming. Hes been there for hours. Lips spit slicked, chin all sticky n' wet. Your cunt is all swollen and senstive. Its his favorite place. He can't leave. Wants to burrow in it. Stay there forever...

You try squirming away. But hes so pussydrunk. Who are you to deny him that after all his hardwork today, hm? "Where do you think you're going?", while he pins you down with his metal arm

[world-of-aus]

Okay but like imagine mafia!Bucky has a stalker.. AND HE'S INTRIGUED...

“They broke into your house, came into your room, they took pictures of themselves on your bed!”

“Harmless,” Bucky scoffed as he adjusted his cufflink. “Child's play, really.”

“Ch—child's play? Are you serious right now? She broke into your house, Buck. She could've killed you!” Steve all but bellows.

Bucky merely looked at his friend.

“She’s been at it for months, Rogers. If she wanted me dead, she would've done it the first night she broke in.”

“The first night?” Steve repeated incredulously. “The first night? Why are you still going out? She's a threat. She's obviously dangerous.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You really weren't.

Bucky had spent months trying to figure you out, only to find himself becoming more intrigued with each passing week. If anything, he found himself wishing he'd noticed you sooner.

Your dedication was admirable, It was the little things, really.

The security rotations you'd painstakingly learned just to slip past them unnoticed. The six guards that had become eight after he'd quietly hired two more, curious to see if they'd finally be enough to stop you.

They weren't, and he wasn't surprised.

He really must've been out of his damn mind, any sane man would've tightened security.

Bucky had turned it into a game.

A test.

And you never disappointed.

You obviously weren't a threat, at least not to his life.

Tonight, however.

Tonight he intended to see just how far you were willing to go to get his attention.

[aquaticmercy]

Get a Hobby

Summary : Bucky’s bored and he needs a hobby. He never expected to find it in you, Val’s personal pilates instructor.

Pairing : New Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Pilates Instructor!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Tower fic!!! Fluff. Very suggestive. Bucky yearns in this one. Cursing. Your activities traumatized Mel. Set after Thunderbolts* (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count : 3.6k

Note : As you probably know by now, I love a pining Bucky. enjoy!

Keeping Bucky Barnes in the tower was expensive.

Not in the way most people assumed, definitely not because of tactical errors or catastrophic damage to equipment.

No, he was precise in the field. He didn’t even shoot a bullet if he could handle it with his fists. 

It was everything in between that cost Val, for lack of a better word, a shit ton of money. 

Because Bucky got bored easily. He simply didn’t know how to be still.

See, he could stand motionless for hours if he had to, especially on overwatch, in the shadows, waiting for a signal, but that kind of focus had a purpose and direction.

The downtime between missions didn’t. It was just tired, empty space stretching out in front of him with nothing to anchor to.

And Bucky, left alone with too much time and nowhere to put it, burned through things. The super soldier serum didn’t help, either.

At first, he’d spend hours in the shooting range, shooting into targets with mechanical precision until the air smelled like metal and heat and smoke.

He’d go down there and run drills, but it wasn’t long until it turned into repetition for the sake of filling time.

He was emptying magazine after magazine.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoing off concrete until the sound blurred into white noise with recoil.

He didn’t miss, but that wasn’t the point. He just… kept going.

Empty.

Reload.

Fire.

Again.

Again.

Again.

It got to a point where the range officers started filing reports because the ammo stock was depleting faster than any active rotation justified.

Even Mel had to increase ammunition orders so often that procurement started flagging it.

Then there was the gym.

With him, boxing gloves barely last.

He didn’t train like John did. Even Alexie was appalled by his habit. Bucky had no timed rounds, no structured sets. He just hit until the boredom in his chest loosened just enough to breathe around. Or until the stitching gave out.

Whichever came first.

It wasn’t long till the leather split under impact and the padding warped. After a couple uses, the Velcro would tear loose from repeated, careless yanks.

He’d go through three pairs a month like it was normal. Sometimes four.

There was a week where one didn’t even last five days.

The heavy bags didn’t fare much better.

They weren’t meant for someone who didn’t pace themselves, who didn’t stop when their knuckles started to ache or his shoulders burned.

Bucky didn’t have those problems. So he didn’t stop.

He hit until the chain creaked under the strain. Until the bag swung unevenly. Until seams stretched and finally gave in to a dull, ugly tear that spilled filling across the floor like a gutted animal. 

Mel had to replace it four times in a single quarter.

—

When Val noticed, it wasn’t because she had observed this with her own two eyes. She noticed when she looked at her bank account. 

She would be billed with increasing orders of ammunition with no operational justification. Then, she noticed that equipment replacement requests start stacking faster than they should.

Surprise, surprise, when she looked into it, the maintenance logs flagged with the same name, over and over again: Barnes broke this, Barnes went through that. 

Barnes, Barnes, Barnes.

“Read a book,” she told him one afternoon, not even looking up from her desk as Bucky leaned against the wall like a permanent fixture. He had gone up there to put in yet another order of dumbbells. Unfortunately, both his vibranium and human arms were getting good at accidentally bending perfectly good steel. “Get a hobby. Crochet, knit, or get a punch needle kit, I don't care. At least learn something useful.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

She sighed, pen pausing mid-signature.

“Download a dating app, for god's sake,” she added dryly. “At least make yourself someone else’s problem for a few hours.”

Bucky frowned, “No.”

Val looked up slowly. “…No?”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” There was no attitude in the way he said it. It was just a flat, immovable statement, a reminder that Val was in no position to make any demands.

From the side of the room, Mel made a small, choking sound that might’ve been a laugh.

Val ignored her.

“Then find something,” she said, annoyed now. “Because if I have to approve another ammunition order this week, I will start assigning you tasks purely out of spite.”

Bucky only shrugged.

—

Enter you: Val’s personal Pilates instructor.

You had been her private instructor for a little over three years now. You used to train at her place uptown, but you just moved to midtown. Val offered to do the classes here instead (since she was mostly at the tower anyways), so… now here you were.

Avengers gym was definitely bigger than Val’s home gym.

It felt far more polished, floor-to-ceiling windows, equipment that looked more expensive than most people’s yearly rent. It didn’t feel like a place people worked out so much as a place people trained to survive.

You stood near one of the mats, rolling your shoulders back, easing into a stretch while you waited. Val was late, which wasn’t unusual, but this was your first time coming here, and you couldn’t help the extra awareness pulling on your mind.

You bent forward, palms flat to the mat, breathing into the stretch.

“Don’t remember anyone requesting a personal trainer.”

The voice came from behind you— and… oh. 

You straightened, just a little slower than necessary.

“I’m not a personal trainer,” you said, a small smile tugging at your mouth. “Pilates instructor.”

He stood a few feet away, like he’d been there longer than you realized. His hand loose at his sides, watching, but not in an uncomfortable way. He was just being observant.

As if something clicked into place, he stepped forward slightly and offered his human arm, “Bucky.”

You hugged out a small laugh as you shook his hand. “I figured.”

That earned you a sweet smile, something you didn’t really expect from an ex-brainwashed assassin “Yeah?”

“You have a… reputation,” you said lightly.

“Do you think it’s a good one?”

You tilted your head, considering him in a way that was just teasing enough. “I haven’t decided yet.”

He nodded once, like he respected the answer.

You decided the least you could do was give him your name.

He repeated it, like he was testing how it tasted on his tongue. “Pretty name.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking down.

He gestured toward the mat. “So what, you just… stretch people into shape?”

You raised a brow. “That’s a gross oversimplification of my life’s work.”

“Mm.” He folded his arms loosely. “Convince me.”

“Oh, I don’t need to,” you shot back. “Val already pays me.”

He huffed in amusement. “Fair point.”

You shifted your stance, crossing your arms without really thinking about it. 

A small beat of silence settled before…

“Could probably use it,” he added, almost offhand.

You blinked. “Pilates?”

He shrugged. “It probably helps with… what, control?”

“Control,” you confirmed, "strength, alignment…”

“Yeah,” he cut in lightly, but not rudely. “Could be useful.”

You looked at him l, the tension sitting on his shoulders, the way he held himself like he was always half-ready for threats… or pleasant surprises.

Before you could respond, the door opened.

Val walked in, eyes scanning between the two of you, “I see you’ve met.”

You stepped back just enough to reset the space, professional again. “Just introducing ourselves.”

Bucky nodded once, easy, like nothing had happened at all. “I’ll see you around.”

You nodded in response, biting your lower lip to stop anything from spilling out. 

Val clapped her hands once. “Alright, let’s not waste time.”

—

Mel had come down to the gym thirty minutes after your lesson ended with a tablet in hand, already bracing herself for her weekly inventory.

She had a system: clipboard on her left arm, gel pen on her right hand, headphones in. It was easier that way to ignore whatever chaos the enhanced individuals of the tower decided to unleash on perfectly good equipment. It kept her sane. More importantly, it kept her employed.

So when she stepped into the gym, she was already bracing herself for damage: torn seams, bent, metal. Maybe another report with Barnes stamped all over it.

Surprisingly… everything seemed suspiciously intact. 

She frowned, glancing around as she made her way past the mats you’d been using earlier. Squeaky clean. Where Bucky had been? Not even a single scratch.

“No way….”

Was today her lucky day? Did she not have to order twenty new things that would last six days?

Oh, did she celebrate too soon?

Because that was when she heard a sound.

It was soft at first, almost like a muffled whine.

Mel froze.

Then, another sound followed, a bit louder this time. It was rhythmic, like a quick series of… claps?

She slowly lowered her clipboard. “What?”

But there it was again, a faint series of plap, plap, plap, echoing just enough off the tile to carry.

It was coming from the locker room.

Mel turned her head, eyes narrowing, like maybe if she looked at it differently the situation would change. It did not. In fact, it got worse.

Because now there were voices.

It was low and overlapping. It wasn’t clear, but unmistakably not gym-related.

She heard a breathy gasp slip through, and she recognised that voice at yours.

She stepped a little closer. Were you in trouble? Did you need help? 

Then, she heard another voice. That was when she stopped. She was close enough now to make out the words.

“You always fuck on the first date, dirty girl?” It was unmistakably Bucky’s voice. She had heard it too many times during briefings. 

Something, probably a motion, cut him off. Then she heard a small startled sound, half laugh, half a lewd curse.

Mel’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God.”

She heard thud, a deeper breath. Something scraped against the tile (probably the metal arm) as the now obvious sound of skin against skin picked up in pace.  

She heard your voice again, teasing even through the uneven rhythm of your breathing. “I thought—weren’t you… raised in the forties—?”

His response was lower this time, words blending into the, "What's your point, dollface?” He said, followed by a quiet, muffled protest from you that dissolved into a stifled moan, “Takin’ me so good, can’t even form proper sentences, huh?”

“M-my point is,” you managed to gasp out, “shouldn’t you—ah… be a gentleman— hmphhh!”

It sounded as if something had been stuffed in your mouth. 

That was the breaking point. Mel didn’t wait for more. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

She turned on her heel so fast her clipboard nearly slipped, already marching back toward the door like she hadn’t heard a single thing.

Inventory could wait.

Whatever that was? Not her department.

—

Mel thought it was a one night stand.

She realised she was very wrong sometime around week three.

At first, she’d told herself it was just two adults sneaking around. She understood the appeal, it was just so unfortunate that it happened in a building that really should have invested in better soundproofing. 

Besides, from what she saw of you two, it seemed… sweet. At the very least, it was nice to see Bucky smile every time you were around, even when he was just there to patiently wait for Val’s lessons to be finished so he could rearrange your insides. 

By week eight, she had the schedule down to a tee.

If your slot ran from two to three-thirty, Mel simply did not under any circumstances step foot near the locker rooms until at least four-thirty. She valued her sanity. And her ability to make eye contact during staff briefings.

But there was a bright side to needing to bleach her ears weekly.

The ammo orders dropped almost in an instant.

Sure, he still trained, but the frantic, endless burn-through had eased into a leisurely pace. Intentional. Even range officers had stopped filing passive-aggressive reports.

The gym equipment stayed miraculously intact.

There were less split seams and even lesser warped frames. Heavy bags weren’t spilling their insides like crime scenes waiting to happen anymore. Mel hadn’t had to file a replacement request with his name on it in weeks, and that alone felt suspicious enough to warrant investigation.

She didn’t tell Val, though. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to fire you. 

Because whatever this arrangement was, it had somehow done what months of structure, orders, and discipline hadn’t: Barnes wasn’t breaking things anymore.

He wasn’t burning through resources like he was trying to outrun his own mind.

He’d inadvertently taken Val’s advice and found a hobby. A very specific one.

And Mel, for her own peace of mind, decided she would take that as a win.

Still, she noticed that you two weren’t exactly subtle. You’d leave looking composed, professional, like nothing had happened… except for the slight delay before you stepped out. She’d noticed the way your hair was sometimes not quite how it had been tied before. She watched how Bucky would follow ten minutes later, like something under his skin had finally settled.

It wasn’t Mel’s business. And yet…

“Again?” she muttered one afternoon, pausing mid-step just outside the gym doors as a very familiar muffled thump echoed faintly from down the hall.

She closed her eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Every week,” she whispered to herself. “Every single week. I deserve a raise.”

Inside, Bucky laughed, and it was followed by your voice, flirtatious in a way that made Mel immediately turn around.

You both were louder today. 

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

She pivoted on her heel and walked straight back the way she came.

—

But sometimes it was actually quite… sweet.

Sometimes Mel walked in expecting the same sinful noises coming from behind a blissful door, and instead found you still there, out in the open.

Mel paused in her steps.

That was weird. You rarely stayed out here after Val’s lessons. Except now, apparently, you did.

She slowed down, clipboard tucked against her side, not meaning to eavesdrop, but then she noticed that Bucky was sitting down on a mat. 

“Relax your shoulders,” you said gently.

Oh. Were you helping him stretch?

“I am relaxed,” Bucky replied stubbornly.

Mel leaned ever so slightly around the corner.

You stood behind him, guiding his human arm back to flex. Your fingers pressed lightly along his shoulder, coaxing instead of commanding.

“James,” you said, and Mel nearly choked because no one called him that, “you’re about as relaxed as a brick.”

“I was on a mission six hours ago,” he countered, but there was no bite in it. “Cut me some slack, sweetheart.”

“You’ve had six hours to stop brooding about it, old man,” you teased. 

“I don’t brood.”

“Sure.” You chuckled, unconvinced, adjusting his posture again. “You just sit in corners and stare into the distance like a tragic war relic.”

Bucky managed to shake his head with a grin. “I am a tragic war relic.”

Mel had to physically bite the inside of her cheek to stop a laugh.

He huffed, but he didn’t pull away when you guided his arm a little further, your touch careful when his expression flickered.

“Easy,” you said, almost reverent now. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky glanced back at you, just slightly. “You always this bossy with your clients?”

“Only the difficult ones.”

“Mm.” His mouth curved up, just barely. “So I’m a problem now?”

You tilted your head sweetly. “You’re my problem.”

Mel looked away for a second, staring very intently at the clipboard like she hadn’t just witnessed that adorable little exchange.

When she glanced back, you were helping him to his feet, fingers on his wrist. He didn’t let you let go right away.

“Better?” you asked.

“Yeah,” He rolled his human shoulder once, testing it. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t the word that caught Mel off guard. It was how he said it— like you painted the sky blue just for him. 

You breathed out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, like you heard it too. “Anytime.”

And for a moment, neither of you moved.

That was when Mel cleared her throat loudly on purpose as she stepped fully into the room.

Both of you shifted apart, almost looking guilty the second you noticed someone else was there. 

“Inventory,” she announced to no one in particular, already walking past like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You smiled politely. Bucky nodded once.

Mel made it halfway across the gym before shaking her head under her breath.

“I can’t believe this,” she said to herself, making sure you both were out of earshot.

Somehow, against all logic, what started as just blowing off steam had clearly turned into affection. 

As cute as it was, that was way more inconvenient for her scheduling.

Other times, though, when either you or Bucky weren’t in the mood (which was rare), Mel would catch conversations that were somehow more intimate. 

He’d talk in fragments about missions, and you’d meet him there without pushing. “You did what you had to,” you’d say gently, and the loaded silence that followed always felt… lighter.

On different days, it was the complete opposite. Your laughter would slip through the door. “I have this client,” you joked once, “who thinks being late means he can pay half the price.”

“I could take care of him,” Bucky offered dryly, without a second thought 

“No thanks,” Mel heard you laugh reassuringly, “I can handle one stubborn client.” You paused for a second, before dipping your voice into teasing territory. “I’ve already got one stubborn super soldier to deal with.”

Ugh. Romance, Mel would think. But even she had started rooting for the two of you, even if only so you could start having loud sex and heart to hearts in his bedroom instead of a common team space. 

—

The week after that, Mel had come down for inventory, expecting an uneventful day for once.

Instead, she found Bucky standing by the window like someone had just told him the world was ending.

He was just standing there, staring out with his in his pockets, shoulders a little slouched, like all the shared edges he usually carried had been sanded down.

Mel stopped to stand next to him, wondering what he saw in the skyline that was so interesting. She had concluded: nothing. He was just missing you.

“I heard Val’s not doing Pilates today,” she said, as casually as she could manage.

Bucky jumped a little like she’d pulled him out of a daydream.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking anywhere but at her. “She’s, um… she’s got the day off. She’s family.”

Mel blinked at him as a slow smile started to creep up.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

He was down bad. 

“You know,” she said, tapping idly at her clipboard, “you could just ask her out.”

He frowned slightly, like the suggestion didn’t quite compute. “What?”

“You know, on a date,” Mel clarified. She had to remind herself that she was a very simple concept to a very stubborn man. “You ask, she says yes, you go somewhere that is not this building and you can finally see her outside of Val’s classes. Revolutionary concept.”

Bucky shifted, clearly uncomfortable now. “We… already spend time together.”

Mel looked up at him flatly. “Locker room encounters don’t count.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

And there it was… the realization.

It was as if his heart dropped. Best started creeping up his neck, flushing across his cheeks, ears going bright red as he suddenly found the floor deeply interesting.

Bucky dragged a hand over his face. “Okay, I—”

“You didn’t think I knew?” she interrupted, not even trying to hide her amusement now.

He groaned quietly, turning away like if he just faced the window hard enough he could phase through it. “I figured someone would eventually—”

“Eventually?” Mel snorted. “Barnes, I’ve been scheduling my entire inventory checks around not walking into the locker room at the wrong time.”

He made a strangled noise that might’ve been embarrassment, but it was definitely not regret.

“Right,” he whispered.

He hesitated for a second, wondering how much of this was safe with Mel.

“I’ve been wanting to take her to a safe down the street,” he finally admitted, still not looking at her. “For a while now.”

Oh?

Mel turned fully toward him, her eyes shifting from mischief to sympathy.

“Then do it,” she said simply.

He glanced back at her, a little uncertain. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded encouragingly. “Ask her properly. I’ll help you! I know the best florist in Manhattan— We’ll even use the company card.”

That managed to pull a small, almost shy smile out of him. It was so brief she almost missed it.

“Yeah,” he said again, shyer this time. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be great.”

Mel went back to her clipboard, giving him a second to breathe, to process, to exist in whatever strange, new emotional territory he’d found himself in.

After a moment, she added, “I’m really glad you found a hobby.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head, but there was no edge to it. “Me too.”

But even as he said it, it was clear as day that this wasn’t just a hobby.

This wasn’t something he’d burn through or break or walk away from easily. This was something he truly, deeply wanted.

Finally, Mel admitted it to herself: you two were so ridiculously, painfully adorable it made her want to scream.

And when she found her person, she hoped they looked at her the way Bucky Barnes looked at you.

—end.

[aquaticmercy]

Reblog for General Bucky taglist pt 1:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault @average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @boy--wonder--187 @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

[aquaticmercy]

Reblog for General Bucky taglist pt 2:

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst @wingstoyourdreams @lori19

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23 @fan4astic

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt @softpia 

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy @buckybarneswife125

@imaginecrushes @phoenixes-and-wizards @rowanthomasknapp @daystarpoet @thefandomplace

@biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @herejustforbuckybarnes @kitasownworld @shortandb1tchy @roxyym

@badl4nder @natalia42069 @silverdoragon @juliet-is-the-sun12 @nightlight486

@buckmybarnes @folkloreofyennefer @buckmjz @lonelyghosts-stuff @wildcherryspark

@ozwriterchick @imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @rlphunter

@yn-stories-are-my-life @ahrahrahraha @erina00

[biaswreckedbybuckybarnes]

Omg I love it! Poor supportive Mel, I love how she rearranged her entire day just to not deal with them but rooted for them just the same!

The ending is so sweet how she offers to help him ask her out (On Val's dime of course!), I'd love to read it one day if you ever get inspired!

[euno11a]

riding him until he comes outta the room feeling pregnant

[rawme-price]

Thinking about how ghost has this uncanny ability to settle babies right down...and yet he has no interest in having one of his own.

That doesn't stop him from knocking on your door while baby screams herself dry at 2am. He can block the noise easily, wouldn't be where he is if he couldn't, but he knows your upstairs neighbor will submit a complaint.

"Ah, sorry for keeping you awake simo–" you mumble, tired when you answer the door. Bags under your eyes, formula on your shirt.

"No. You go sit down. Where is she?" Ghost huffs, squeezing past you through the door. Despite the question, he's already bee-lining to your room, where baby's crying carries through the entire apartment.

"I don't know what's wrong. She's not hungry, not gassy. Won't cuddle, won't suck her paci–" you trail off, dazedly watching simon gently cradle your little girl in his arms and have her settled in mere minutes. "...what."

Your baby, who's made it her life's mission to scream nearly every night, is curling chubby fingers into ghosts hoodie and humming all happy.

"Just needed my jacket, I think. Picky girl," ghost hums fondly, tucking her whole tiny body into one arm. With the other, he steers you towards your bed. "You need to sleep. I'll get her handled, okay?"

Anyone else would say that you're crazy for letting a man you aren't dating or married to be alone in your apartment with your kid. To which you would tell them about how he pulled you out of your darkest moments while trying to parent alone. How he never judges you. How he wants nothing but the best for your little girl.

So you nod, yawn and settle down. "Okay...thank you, simon."

In the morning, baby will be back in her crib snuggled up tight, and ghost will have left a hot jug of coffee on your counter.

[frownyalfred]

imagine some drunk guy taking a smoke break outside a club giving Jason shit for his “low quality” bodymod and how scarification shouldn’t be done while you’re still growing and clearly his “J” was

and then Jason turns to him mid-cigarette, says “Thanks, got it done by someone I couldn’t say no to” and the guy gets excited thinking of all the world famous names and asks “by who?” with great reverence. and Jason looks at him like this:

and says “Joker”

[themimegirl2000]

Hello!!! I just found your account and I think your writing is great!! I sae a few reposts/reblogs on your account, and was wondering if you wrote for the batfam?

If you do, I would really like to request a young Damian Wayne x Reader? Where the reader is Clark’s neice and is new to this super hero thing? But when she sees Damian they instantly be friends (according to her) and then Damian agrees with announcing that he will promise to marry his beloved (Reader) in the future!

Damian calls Reader many different old, or arabic petnames!

Love your work! I’m hunting for more like this!!

Damian Wayne x Clark’s niece reader

Summary: when you decide to be Damian’s new best friend, he decides that you two are so much more. 

“Listen, we’re just gonna visit Batman so that we can test your powers, okay?” Your uncle’s calm and loving voice said.

“Okay, uncle Clark!” You chirped.

“There might even be Batman’s son, robin there!”

“Hey, if the batcave is beneath Bruce Wayne’s home, does that make you his boss or his roommate?” You asked Batman on curiosity.

“Let your imagination decide.”

“Father, what are these two doing here?” Asked the voice of a young boy your age.

“Damian, this is superman’s niece, ___. Shes here to have her powers tested.”

You flew over to the boy “Damian? Oh! You must be robin!” Before he could say anything back, you took Damian’s wrist and shook his hand.

“Wait..” you said.

“What is it, sweetie?” Asked Clark. “If Damian is the name of Bruce Wayne’s son, according to you, of course, then does that make Bruce Wayne Batman?”

“Uhm..” Clark got a tad awkward after that. 

Bruce told you to let your imagination take you wherever you wanted.

After getting tested, Bruce told Damian to show you around the manor.

“Why me? Why not Tim or pennyworth?” Protested Damian in annoyance.

“Because you’re her age and I asked you to.” Said Bruce with no room for argument.

——

Damian showed you around the manor, dodging your questions and giving brief and simple summaries of each floor.

“Sooooo, what do you do for fun around here?”

“I don’t do fun.”

You raised a brow, making him sigh.

“I occasionally read a book or two.”

“Cool! I like books! What do you read about?”

“Not that it’s any of your business or concern, but I like reading about animals and other interesting subjects like martial arts.”

“Animals? Animals are so cool! I know all about them!”

“Do you?”

“Yeah! What’s your favorite animal?”

“I suppose it would be the mantis shrimp.”

“Oh! Is it because it’s one of the strangest creatures to exist? I find its biology interesting.”

“Huh..” 

——

After that, you and Damian became the closest of friends(according to you at least). 

You would always hang out, read and you even taught him cool games like uno(he got upset when he lost the first few times then started getting smug when he started winning.)

“Father, I have made a decision.” Damian said, interrupting a conversation between Bruce and wonder woman, Diana. 

“And that is?”

“Regarding me and ___’s friendship, I have decided that we will get married.”

The silence that followed was very loud to Batman who stared at his son in shock.

The rest of the justice league started laughing, especially Clark who was trying his best to hide it.

“Damian,” Bruce began, “you can’t just-“ 

“Damian!” You flew in.

“Yes, habibti?” He said, eying his father with a smirk.

“There’s a hawk outside!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” You land and grab his wrist before running off with him.

Bruce’s hand rubbed across his face “Oh… god..” 

[of-many-incorrect-quotes]

Jason: Y’know, when you told me that you were ‘magic in bed’ this isn’t exactly what I had in mind

Y/N: *holding up the seven of spades* Was this your card?

Jason: *softly* Holy shit…

[three-semicolons]

“Must have been a sadist”, Jason says.

<Checks notes>

Yeah. Uh huh. Yup. Right on the money there. Immaculate.

The detective training is paying off, so it seems.

[apenitentialprayer]

Am walking through Manhattan, there's a woman who can't be more than 25 in a big fur coat, walking with a cane, angrily saying into her headpiece "I want them them destroyed," I feel like an extra in a movie

[scoutartzz]

hello jason todd enjoyers

[unspeakablearchives]

(Source: Sen the donkey)

[hyenabrainedpup]

Nearly making her cum from sucking on her nipples is something you need to do by the way. No ignore how pathetic she sounds just keep sucking on them

[starlightxraven]

Nobody needs AI to search the Internet, court says in ruling against Google

Google AI Overview court loss in Germany could spell doom for AI search industry.

[appalachian-werewolf]

"Google AI Overview court loss in Germany could spell doom for AI search industry."

It fucking better.

[mrsjdavis]

Like to charge, reblog to cast?

[newbarktownalumni]