#And looking as he does it makes things so much harder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winterarmyy · 2 days ago

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I Knew It Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.8k++

Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.

Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, “The sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another again…' How would you continue it?” and this is my answer.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day.

The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Bucky’s opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this.

Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how ‘the people need a hero to look up to’, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.

Nonetheless, Bucky couldn’t really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they can’t really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they won’t take their chances.

The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues.

He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.

With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldn’t care to meet.

Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.

Until he saw her.

She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art.

Y/N.

Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.

She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress she’d worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her.

Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; he’d heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through.

Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.

It broke him.

Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldn’t fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.

The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasn’t truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elena’s words, his ex’s words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.

“Mind if I sit?”

Her voice cut through the noise. He’d looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didn’t wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips.

She was so bright, so unapologetically there.

It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like she’d already decided he was interesting and wasn’t about to change her mind. “You always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?” she teased, tilting her head.

“Special occasion,” he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”

She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.

Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. “Looking to rescue sad souls like me?”

“Rescue?” She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Please. I’m here for the entertainment value.”

“Brutal,” he said, but he couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.

Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friend’s taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.

She gestured to his drink. “Let me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I don’t judge…” A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. “She.” he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/N’s eyes. She nodded, “Okay, she left you for someone who didn’t know how to brood so attractively.”

Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadn’t laughed like that in... he couldn’t remember how long.

Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to ’go out, meet people, get laid’. Truthfully, she wasn’t really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim.

But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her.

And he did.

Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasn’t meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react.

At first, it was just fun.

But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough.

Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldn’t hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.

“I’m kidding. Kind of,” she said, eyes softening as she studied him. “But seriously, imagine missing out on you. That’s just sad at this point.”

But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.

The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didn’t know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if they’d been doing so for years.

The air thickened and inches shrink.

When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadn’t recognized before. It wasn’t about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.

Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldn’t cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.

They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. “Wait,” he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.

She paused immediately, her gaze softening. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, the words thick, heavy.

A crease formed between her brows. “What? Your name is not James?”

The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. “No. I am James, but…” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.

“But…?” she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, each syllable weighted.

For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. “You’re…” she began, just as he said, “The Winter Soldier.” But what came from her lips was, “The Avenger.”

They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. “What?” they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony.

The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didn’t flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. “I want this, James,” she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. “I want you.” she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, “I want you too,” he said, his voice low, unguarded.

They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.

It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a siren’s song.

He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldn’t hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own.

Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.

When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, “I’m not ready for… anything serious,” he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.

She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. “That’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to label it. It can be what it is.”

“Casual?” he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.

She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Casual.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.

The next few months, their ‘casual’ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasn’t pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once.

It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things.

She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.

And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didn’t push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, he’d spill pieces of himself.

Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else.

And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. “That’s not on you,” she had whispered, her hand covering his. “She was the problem, not you.” When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.

And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldn’t leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each other’s body, they caressed each other’s innermost scars. They’d talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.

And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, they’d be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone.

It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldn’t, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.

Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light.

She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldn’t name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m going back to Elena,” he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air.

For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath.

But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.

She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Bucky’s chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him.

Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. “This…being here with you, touching you like this… this will be the last time,” he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.

Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better.

Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. They’d been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, she’d been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; he’d been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his.

They were each other's strength, each other's solace.

'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldn’t voice those thoughts. She wouldn’t burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldn’t beg for more than he could offer.

With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.

Bucky’s heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. “Yes,” he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see past the facade.

Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasn’t falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldn’t see.

“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispered, barely audible.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.

Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.

The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldn’t shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what she’d lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Bucky’s absence had left behind.

It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.

But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.

Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She should’ve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper.

At times, she’d pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. She’d feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasn’t needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?

Even then, she couldn’t help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when he’d thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.

She thought of those nights often. The way he’d hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how he’d bury his face in her shoulder to block out the world’s judgement. She’d whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride.

He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.

But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldn’t follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.

When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didn’t falter.

Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter.

His heart ached with a need he thought he’d buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.

But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didn’t care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.

Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like he’d been hollowed out.

And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.

‘I miss you,’ their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.

They kept walking.

That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when they’d go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust.

She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.

Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what they’d had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. “Hey… James. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. “Out for a date?” he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.

“Yeah…Kind of.” she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. “Can I come in?”

She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Please,” he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. “You gotta be quick,” she said, almost dismissively. “Josh is on the way.”

The mention of another man’s name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.

Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. “Talk,” she said flatly.

He paced, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t real,” he started, voice thick. “Me and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.” he paused as he studied her reaction, ” We couldn’t risk telling you. We had to make it look real. ”

She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. “You’re here for that? To explain yourself?” There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. “We managed to capture her.” He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “We had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldn’t risk word getting out… not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldn’t have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.”

He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. “It turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before they…” His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real.

But he didn’t need to say more. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. He’d be dragged back into Hydra’s grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation.

It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.

Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. “So that was it?” she demanded. “I was just collateral damage?”

“No,” he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.” He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I did.”

She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. “Unbelievable. I smiled at you one time, James—one time—and you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?”

The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that he’d hurt her so deeply. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want to just—”

She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. “Bullshit!” The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I just wanted to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “That it was all fake.”

“Fake?” She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. “It looked pretty damn real to me, James. You don’t think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?”

“It was a cover, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?”

Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By hurting me?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “By tearing me apart?”

Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. “By leaving me behind?” she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. “By pretending like what we had meant nothing?”

He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice quivering. “It was everything. You were everything.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t believe you.”

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. “From the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an Avenger—I knew it then.”

He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. “But it wasn’t just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way you’d smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldn’t breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way you’d whisper that I wasn’t alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.”

He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. “I knew it was too late when I realized I’d been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sally’s, remember?” His voice grew softer, distant with memory. “It was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldn’t stop looking at you. It wasn’t just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel… lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didn’t own me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. “I realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.” His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.

His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. “It’s the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like I’m more than my past… God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.”

She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. “I love you,” he said again, more desperately. “I love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldn’t be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything she’d buried. “I love you too,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I never stopped.”

His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each other’s touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading 🥺

#bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader smut #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #avenger!bucky

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revelboo · 3 days ago

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I love to check you blog every day when I get up and when I go to bed and it's funny that you posted the shockwave fic literally before I got into bed, just after I was thinking of whirl and shockwave while getting ready to sleep. 🥺 Can't wait to see more tfp shockwave around here

A bit of serendipity 😊

This one’s 18+ 💀 but not for fun reasons, rather dubious, horrific science on Shockwave’s part

Point of Extinction Pt 4

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Even if you can’t see what’s going on in the lab from your opaque box, you can’t shut out the sound. A high pitched bleating that just gets sharper, more awful until you’re pressed into a corner of your box, knees drawn tight to your body and your palms pressed against your ears in an attempt to shut it out. When that soul wrenching sound abruptly ends after what feels like forever, you’re shaking uncontrollably and sick to your stomach.

• “Experiment fourteen. Failure,” Shockwave growls at the drone placidly hovering and recording. Every failure brings him closer, though. Step by step to creating a new home. A fail safe in case Cybertron can’t be revived, but progress is almost painfully slow. Terraforming organic life much more erratic than he’d like. Flicking the end of his cannon at the drone to end the recording and go charge, he turns back to his other experiment. “Come, Thirteen.” Leaning closer to find you huddled in a corner, trembling.

• Your head comes up at the sound of Shockwave’s voice, panic seizing you as he reaches into your cage, his servos wet with blood. “Don’t.” Shoving back tighter into your corner when he makes to pick you up. Terrified you’re next. That you’re about to suffer whatever it was he just did to some poor animal. Hoping it was an animal not a person making that sound. Freezing, Shockwave stares at you, that unreadable face dipping to look at his hand like he’d forgotten. Servos trembling slightly as he pulls away, disappearing from sight.

• Don’t. You can’t do this. Moving to cleanse his hand, for a moment his processor is tangled in the chaos of a memory that isn’t truly his. Hands on his arms, seizing him against his will. Dragging him… somewhere. The memory shreds when he tries to pull it close. Screaming. He remembers screaming when they took his optics. No, he only has one. He’s only ever had one. He’s not sure, though. Servos of his one hand shaking, he turns his attention to the cannon his other arm ends in. Sometimes he swears he can feel those nonexistent servos. They’re like the memories that aren’t his, but are. Wrong, hurtful things that snare him. Turning back to your cage, he leans closer bothered by the way you shake. “Thirteen.”

• He’s back and you shudder as he reaches for you again. His big hand is clean now, still wet, but you can’t make yourself go to him willingly. But you can’t make him angry either if your survival depends on being good. Being cooperative. “You’re not going to hurt me, right?” You ask, eyes burning as you stand and walk over to him. Putting yourself in his servos.

• Carefully curling his servos around you, he lifts you free. Something about how insubstantial and warm you feel in his grip skitters through him. Trusting him when you probably shouldn’t. He can’t even trust his own memories, how can you trust him? “No,” he says. Comforting your fear even though it’s illogical. It doesn’t, shouldn’t, matter, but it somehow does. You make a sharp sound, staring at fourteen and you start shaking harder.

• It was a deer. At least you think it was. Why he’d thought a deer should have that many, spidery legs or a skull that split open to house awkward looking mandibles is beyond you. It’s a half formed mess of flesh, fur, and metal. The bones partially warped with liquid metal and twisting out of its rib cage, viscera shiny and wet spilling out. Dry heaving, you press your face against his servos. Don’t want to see what he’s done. What he might do to you. “Why?” He hasn’t hurt you, so you’d convinced yourself that you were safe. But this? He’s not safe and definitely doesn’t actually care for you. He’s a monster.

• Rooted to the ground, he stares at the failed experiment. Something uneasy in the back of his processor whispering that he should have cleaned it up before retrieving you, but it hadn’t occurred to him that the sight would bother you. The way you’re shaking in his hand is clawing at him, twisting in his spark. A feeling he can almost remember, an emotion that he doesn’t have anything more than a dull echo of and can’t understand. Illogical even as he brings you closer to his chassis, turning so you can’t see the mess anymore and running a trembling servo along your arm. Needing to understand. To remember.

#transformers x reader #shockwave x reader #tfp shockwave

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mo-online · 10 hours ago

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"the other ravens didn't know jean's age!!!"

think of any 16 year old boy you know. does he look like an adult to you? would you call him a whore if you'd found out he'd gotten into five different men's beds in less than a week?

no?

then think of a scrawny, underfed 16 year old boy. his face is bony, but not quite sharp. his nose is crooked, and a part of you thinks that maybe he just hasn't grown into his own face yet, at least until the bruising makes you want to look away before you can think about it any harder. none of his clothes fit him quite right, and you can always hear his joints popping in and out of place. he has the thickest accent you've ever heard, and you still don't quite know what he's saying most of the time, even if he swears it's english and looks close to tears if you insist it's anything but too loudly (he's only been in america for two years and it's hard to grasp much when all you have to develop your language skills from is cruel insults).

he's not as tall as the rest of the court yet — actually, he's far from it. he's not spared enough to build any muscle, even throughout the relentless practices, and he always looks five seconds from passing out by the time the drills even start. he's sweating, panting, and there's a rattling in his chest when he does... has he broken a rib? why is he even here? he's not as big, not nearly as strong, and the other ravens zero in on him until he's a puddle on the floor. he can barely keep his own racquet steady in his hands, and when he props it up to lean on, you realize he isn't much bigger than the damn thing itself. the captain is always dragging him around, sometimes by his wrist, sometimes by his hair. you think it's just messy hazing for a while, and maybe you dare to spare him a pitiful nod and hope for his sake it'll end soon, but months go by and it never does. he's doubled over one day, then running laps the next, and god, why does he always reek of blood? you start to notice his fingers as they change colors, once bony and milky pale, now bruised black and blue and crusted over with scabs. they're misshapen... broken, almost every one. he shouldn't be playing like this, but he tugs his gloves on with his teeth and plays through the pain.

you pass his room on your way to bed, door wide open. he sleeps curled up in a ball, back pressed so hard against the wall, knees into his chest. you can hear his shaky breaths, how his lungs rattle uneasily, even in his sleep. he shakes himself awake from nightmares, gripping the sheets, dry heaving as he forces his own face into the pillow to muffle the sound... but he does not scream. he does not cry. poor kid, you think, because what else could you call him? he's far too beaten down to even think to consider an adult. a puppy kicked one too many times.

the captain calls everyone into a room, arms folded over his chest, face smug as if he'd come up with a solution to the entire world's problems. but there's something strange about the meeting. only backliners. gigantic, sneering, male backliners. he asks for volunteers, a few good samaritans to "fuck some sense into him," and you watch as five greedy hands fight to be the first in the air. riko makes his pick, makes his promise, and for the next week it's all you can hear at night. you wouldn't call it moaning, but... screaming. fighting. teeth and claws and fickle words. "please. please stop. please stop. please—" and then silence. the last night all you hear is defeated silence.

and suddenly it's the child's fault, isn't it? everyone else is saying it, that he slept his way onto the lineup, that he's nothing more than a braindead whore. if everyone's saying it, though, does that make it true?

or is it just easier to stomach?

#aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #aftg trilogy #the sunshine court #tsc #jean yves moreau #riko moriyama #the golden raven

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chaifootsteps · 2 days ago

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does the 'we're only halfway through' squad realize that half of a show is more than enough time to expect actual character development to happen? because it hasn't and I suspect it won't, because Viv is terrible at actually making character changes stick

Blitzo - he's fared the best of everyone but it's still not much to look at - he's still an impulsive jerk who's mean to Moxxie. He's decided to stop butting in on M&M not because he respects either of their boundaries more now but because he's pining for Stolas for no adequately explained reason. His relationship with Loona hasn't changed, he's still a bit overbearing and overprotective. He's made up with Fizz but it doesn't really feel like he's changed meaningfully to become a person who wouldn't make the same mistake again because the first mistake was just an accident he couldn't have foreseen. Regressed in some ways because Stolas has totally wrecked his confidence and made him behave out of character by making Loona, his beloved daughter, burn taxidermy owls and neglected to pay his employees i.e. hurt the people who should matter to pine over his abuser.

On his end he's treated rephrensibly by the people who are supposed to love him - Stolas obviously, but also treated poorly by Fizz, M&M and Loona as not one of them think how Stolas treated him is messed up. IMP in particular are actively aware of Stolas being the meal ticket and assume it's fine to pimp out their boss since he's not complaining about it?

Moxxie - learns he needs to be confident in his own skills. Repeatedly. Occasionally calls Blitzo by first name but still uses 'sir' often, so he hasn't really changed there. No relationship to speak of with Loona. Mostly happy together with Millie

Millie - her only plots are helping the men get their shit together. Stopped calling Loona hellhound for no explained reason

Loona - made a friend in Tex, kind of. No change in most of her relationships with the cast because she barely has one

Via - repeating the same 'why does dad keep neglecting me' arc until she cuts him off, at which point he'll probably win her back in five minutes (then go right back to ignoring her)

Stolas - developed to learn the deal was wrong but not really since he's ending it principally because Blitzo wouldn't date him at the same time as Stolas was sexually extorting him. Still treats Blitzo like an object whose feelings inconvenience him. Still neglects his daughter. Learnt to stand up to Stella out of nowhere, so there's that I guess. Regressed harder than anyone else in terms of development since he's incapable of ever admitting when he's done wrong - it's not cheating since he says so, and gives lip service to the idea he's hurt Blitzo before being Shocked and Appalled whenever Blitzo confirms outright 'you hurt me'. Still talks down to imps. Has yet to acknowledge any of the members of IMP by name or show gratitude for them saving his life. A waste of flesh and screentime

Fizz - changed from a chaotic sassy king to a scared abused woobie. Managed to get free of Mammon in the space of one episode. Made up with Blitzo. Feels bad about not being equal to Ozzie but we're going to sweep that under the rug since classism storylines are a problem for making stol1tz happen

Striker - went from a legitimately scary antagonist who had a point, tempted Blitzo with great chemistry to a laughing stock who not only always loses but is called a supremacist despite only having ever pointed out the rich have all the power and mistreat the poor (a thing the show has proven him right about time and again). Goes from smooth seductor to joke with a hygiene problem

like, we can admit this is a tiny amount of development for two whole seasons and 50% of the entire show, right?

You can really tell the people in this fandom who actually watch other forms of media from the ones who don't, and by that I mean "haters expecting everything to be revealed in episode one." Shows don't reveal or even necessarily plan everything from day one, but I can't think of another cartoon that wobbles around as much as HB does.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #helluva boss critical #actual blog post

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smilesatdawnmain · 2 days ago

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ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 6) (Interactive Story)

Time for some answers

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal Au

Ships: Shadow Peach

Digging his heels into the dirt to try and slow his speed, realizing the farther Wukong went so did he, Macaque called back angrily to the collectors,

“What is going on? What isn't good??" he demanded.

The collectors cringed, glancing at each other. Rushing to keep pace with Macaque, wearily eyeing the sky in case somehow Wukong did spot them, they nervously smiled. Normally they would never fear, but that golden vision of his- it was rumored to even view the dead if he was looking close enough.

One of the collectors, a stout figure with a chipped jaw and a nervous twitch, cleared his throat. “You see,” he started, his voice wobbly, “That connection you’re feeling? And uh, seeing? It’s… complicated.” He shuffled back a step as Macaque glared, spitting out words like venom.

“Complicated? Explain! I don’t have time for riddles while that fool flies off with me!”

The second collector, a more slender figure, leaned in closer. “It’s the bond,” he whispered, as if saying it too loudly might make his presence known to the flying King above. “Remember before how we said souls can get held up from moving on? One being, their soul is stuck or trapped like yours was?"

“Okay?” he grumbled, slipping his hand just a tad through the ropes these collectors insisted on keeping to hold onto him. Shifting between them he grasped the golden string around him. As much as he tugged and wiggled, it wouldn't loosen. It felt hot to the touch.

It felt like Wukong- his very essence and power.

It gave a strange sense of both comfort and discomfort considering Macaque’s own emotions were torn by the man.

The burly collector continues, "There are other reasons that can stop a soul from moving on. The other two are they have some lingering connection to this world that is preventing them from leaving. Or... a living connection is tethering them down. Honestly, it could be both cases for this one." the two nodded knowingly to each other.

"What does that mean?!" Macaque snapped, standing to try and pull and remove this rope from him, only to gag as it dragged him further rightward to follow after Wukong.

The Collectors followed, “Soulmates,” they summarized.

Macaque blinked, confusion flashing across his features before morphing instantly into indignation. “Soulmates? Are you out of your minds? Wukong and I?” He spat the name like it was poison. Such a thing would once thrill him. Perhaps even now it… still kind of did.

A soulmate was something rumored in the demon community. The thought of something so pure and wonderful was a dream he himself had when he was just a cub. But now, tainted by blood and betrayal, the very idea sent a shiver of revulsion coursing through him. It was horrible. It was impossible!

Something so sacred couldn’t possibly be. A soulmate came once. Not just in a lifetime. As the name implied, it was the one intended for your very soul. To find this person took more then luck.

Wukong was his soulmate??

Wukong was… his?

And he didn’t want you.

The thought made him seethe to avoid the pain that followed, “If that fool is my soulmate, then I’d rather be bound to the netherworld!” With every protest, the golden thread seemed to pulse brighter, almost as if responding to his anger. The more he wrestled against the bonds, both physical and ethereal, the stronger the connection felt. It tingled through him—a sensation that flickered between distaste and a kind of reluctant warmth. Ignoring it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Well this doesn't often happen with mortals but well uh- demons are a little different." the smaller collector admits weakly, "Certainly makes our job harder, let me tell you. As a demon you live a long time, thus the connections you make are always stronger. Sometimes the magic of demons and their soul mates even mix together making a literal tether-" they gestured to the rope.

Macaque slowly looked down, his eyes flarring. NO.

No no no.

“What does this mean for me? Is there any way to remove this?" he couldn’t be Wukong’s soulmate. He couldn’t continue to be forever tied to that King- that jerk. The man who cared so little for him he would choose everyone else over him!

One of them shrugged, nonchalant to Macaque’s despair, "Soulmates are tricky? Honestly, maybe not until he moves on."

"Moves on??" Macaque repeated. "That doesn't- eleborate!" he barked, kicking his feet.

They held up their hands, "Chill! Chill man." they sigh. "Regrets, lingering desires, many of these things some people can let go once they come to terms with their death. A trip you never got to take, a hobby you never got around to trying- simple things that could easily be put aside. Love and soulmates, that is where it gets tricky. People could mourn all their life and never truly move on or let go of those they have lost. A person soul knows who they are destined to be with, and tend to have an issue with letting go."

Macaque's mouth felt dry. "What does that mean for me?" his mind was reeling, "Are you saying that until Wukong "lets me go" or whatever bullshit like that, I can't move on?"

The two stepped back out of Macaque's range when he tried to swipe at them, "Basically?" they offered sheepish smiles. "Same could be said for you. Sometimes those who are dead can't let go of the living people they are leaving behind.”

Macaque felt his face heat, quickly barking, “I have no issues letting that man go!”

They blinked once, then at each other, not believing him for a moment. “Rightttt.” they trail off. “Either way, usually this problem can be solves by the person eventually moving on, or... the person keeping the tether dies."

They all glanced at the very much immortal Monkey King. Macaque's eye brow twitched. He rushed over to Wukong, yelling, "Move on from me you son of a-!!”

The diyu collectors covered their ears as Macaque let out a long set of slurs.

"I wait and wait and wait- and you never had any problem letting me go before! Ditching me for years- and NOW suddenly you got an attachement issue?!"

He held onto the string attached to his waist, feeling it pull him in different directions like a puppet on a string. Peng had always made fun of him, asking if there was anything Wukong could do to break his grip over him. Well, murder sure felt like it should have done the trick!

So how was he possibly still tied to him??

….he knew how…. But he would rather not say.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #interactive story #lmk wukong #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #angst

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wizardsnorlax · 2 days ago

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Ok so update on the Spiral Jon fic I'm writing: I'm getting it onto Ao3 bit by bit because it's super difficult to write on mobile, but I need to take a break and get ideas for the season three events out before they get lost, here's a link to the season 2 notes

Ok here we go

Melanie does not join the Archives, this is for the best

At one point in season 2 Jon gave Sasha Georgie's contact info for "in case of emergency" use so Sasha is gonna be (mostly) ok she just needs to pop an allergy pill every once in a while

Sasha might be good with the hardware of a computer but the software might as well be a completely different language so she's very little help with Georgie's show

Jon takes to reading Statements like I took to weed gummies

Sasha follows about the same trail of clues as Jon did in Canon but Daisy's grip on Sasha is a bit harder to hold so Sasha gets claw slashes on her arms instead of a knife at the throat

Things that have changed about Jon while Sasha was gone: his hair now has ringlet curls, the extra flexibility in his joints has progressed but not to the point anyone has noticed let alone would consider a problem and his eyes are twitchy from the stress of filling her position to the point he looks like he's constantly ODed on caffeine

Sasha gets back in the office and when everyone learns they can't quit or be fired Jon makes it his personal mission to be as much of a menace to Elias as possible

but he'd never do that to Sasha, she gets doodles of her hanging out with Cecil from Nightvale because she's a good boss:)

Martin scolds Tim for how he's been treating Jon and Sasha because of the changes caused by first and secondhand paranormal bullshit exposure

Jon gets to go out for drinks with people who actually like him

Everyone learns why Jon has a shirt that says "the difference between me and Superman is Superman has Super Vision, I need constant supervision

A discussion about who takes Jon home with them is had because at some point the poor goober lost his shoes and started trying to wrap around Martin like a belt

Sasha gets kidnapped on her way home

Michael helps her because some part remembers being an archival assistant and she's treated hers so much better than Gertrude did

Helen doesn't take Michael's place but the door still rejects him and the corridor collapses as both Sasha and Michael crash into Jon's new flat

Michael is freed but is in such bad shape he needs to be in the hospital for several weeks on recovery

Things attempt to be normal

Tim and Jon are menaces to Elias in very different ways

Jon doesn't want anyone traveling alone

Elias doesn't care but can't STAND the idea of Jon being there without a buffer so Sasha gets to have company on her trip, Tim goes to India and gets the ghost bullet, cue Mystery Mousketool meme

Martin, Basira and Daisy are handling the workload as best they can but since none of them are particularly suited to the task things go badly because Martin is terrible at direct leadership

When Sasha and Jon get kidnapped by Trevor and Julia, Sasha decides that the best way to clear some of the air is through lore dumping her backstory (still to be determined)

Jon is deemed suspicious by the false cop cause he does NOT look sober

Insert attempted police brutality interrupted by a shotgun

While the false cop is regenerating Jon gets the "how did you two meet" Statement from Julia

They get to the cabin and Jon freaks out a little at the idea of reading ANOTHER cursed book

Big relief when nobody gets eaten this time

Nobody ever believes him but Jon has kept every promise he's made (not that he's made many before but it's the principle of it)

Yoinks the page

Our duo finishes the assignment

Back home

Sasha learns about the storage unit

JON STOP REACHING FOR THE EXPLOSIVES YOU ABSOLUTE GREMLIN

Tim is EXTRA motivated to wreck shop at the Unknowing

Jon and Martin stay behind to be distractions

Big boom happens, Tim makes it out because the guy's literally too angry to die, Sasha is in the coma, Daisy is in the Coffin and Basira is just having a time of it

Jon gets mind fondled by Elias and it makes Martin want to rip the bastard's throat out but the best he can do is have the cops rough him up as much as possible

Jon is temporary head of the Archives and the pressure swallows him whole and he crashes like a meteorite because he desperately doesn't want to be the one giving orders

Martin's "assistance" has been leaving cobwebs in places nobody checks

And thus we enter season 4

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #martin blackwood #au fic

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starlightsuffered · 2 days ago

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My Goddess

A/N - does the "stop the fucking charade" scene get anyone else hot and bothered or just me?

Warnings - smut, pregnancy, cheating, sensitive nipples, climaxing from nipple stimulation, oral (female receiving), knife play kinda, angry Hal, breeding kink, cock warming, unprotected sex, desired voyeurism

"Bring her to me!" He screamed at his servants. Usually he was kind, he was respectful, but not now. He was so riled up, and only one thing could fix it. It was a well kept secret of the palace. King Hal had a wife, a Queen, but he was weak for you and only you. Nowhere else was he weak, but you made him this way.

You were just a wet nurse. Your nipples were used all over town to feed babies that mothers couldn't. Hal loved that, the sensitivity of your nipples. You were embarrassed, you felt weak for having such sensitive nipples, but your love adored it. He suckled on them day in and day out. He was obsessed with you and you were confused how you had drawn such a lucky card in life.

You'd met back in his wilder days, when the kingdom hadn't rested on his shoulders. You'd known he fucked around, but it was always you he came back to. He'd asked to marry you when he'd gone off to war, but you couldn't do it. You'd have so much to do, so much responsibility. Not to mention, the nation would despise you. If they reviled the once wayward King, what would they think of him picking a wet nurse to be his bride? Wet nurses were seen as little better than prostitutes in this kingdom, the only ones who appreciated them was the needy mothers they aided.

"Here she is your Grace," the Guard had roughly torn the baby you'd been feeding from your breast, giving it to the mother. You had been marched to the castle. They didn't normally retrieve you with such force. He must've been in a very bad mood.

King Hal had once been gentler, but the many betrayals he'd experienced had made him hard. He was never rough with you, but with others, he didn't pull back when he could have.

You were brought before the king. He was rushing towards you, hands eager and protective. He carried you off to his bedroom. You were wincing.

"Why do you make such a face my love," he demanded. "If they have hurt you, I will have there heads."

This was what you meant. Hal would have never beheaded guards before. He would have talked to them sternly, but not killed them. This is why you had been avoiding him lately, the secret you so badly wanted to tell him, was hard to keep in his actual presence.

"No, no, it is nothing," you said, not meeting his eyes.

Hal placed you on the bed in his decadent room. You always wondered how the Queen felt that you had spent more time in this room than she had. Although, there were many rumors of her escapades with French dignitaries. Hal did not mind, Hal only wanted you.

"You are hiding something from me, and you will tell me this instant," he snapped, pacing the floor. He knew you too well. Just one avoidance of his gaze, and he was reading you like a book.

"I do not wish to tell you," you mumbled.

"Why my love?" His voice was soft now. He was trying to look into your eyes. You bit your lip, tears welling.

"I've missed my cycle by three weeks," You admitted.

"You, what?" Hal seemed genuinely shocked.

"I'm pregnant Hal," you said, turning to him. A wild smile lit up his face. He was beaming.

"But my love! This is wonderful news, and it is surely mine?"

"You are the only man I've been with in years," you replied. He looked a bit pink at that. You knew you were not the only one he'd been with, but now, that problem was fixed. He wouldn't be obligated to try for an heir if one grew in your belly.

"This is amazing," he cheered.

"I'm not so sure it is," you said softly.

"Why ever not?" He asked.

"You have changed Hal," you whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"You are harder. I know it is not your fault, but it worries me. I worry you may be assassinated, or that you will start a new war. I know a King must be tough, but a father must be gentle."

He was silent for a long time after your speech.

"You are right y/n, if you choose to have this baby, I will endeavor every day to be the man you deserve, and the father my child deserves," he said, taking your hands.

"Oh, Hal, that is exactly what I wanted to hear," you sighed.

"You are also being moved into the castle. I am declaring you an official mistress of the King. You will be accompanyed by a servant, or me at all times. I want you treated no less than a Goddess."

"Hal," you hedged. "What about the Queen?"

"The Queen has seen this coming for a long time. I have long been drawing up papers for you to become my mistress."

"Hal, I want you to be kind about it," you instructed.

"I will be, but my first priority will always be you," he said gently.

"I love you," you told him, his heart melting words making it all the more clear he was your forever.

"Let me love you, my Goddess," he requested, and you nodded eagerly.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing your lips. You melted into the kiss. He pulled you on top of him. You straddled his waist, combing your hands lovingly through his hair. You let your teeth graze his bottom lip, earning a moan from him.

His hands were at the ties of your dress in an instant. He was undoing them, trying to get you undressed as quickly as possible. You remembered when you'd arrived here he'd been in a rage. Now he was using only gentle touches, loving touches. You were the song that soothed the savage beast. You loved how malleable he became for you and you alone.

"Hal," you moaned as he kissed your neck, tearing your bodice. He grabbed a defensive dagger from his bed side.

"I am going to cut that dress from your form, from now on you are either naked for me, or in the most expensive finery the castle can afford."

He came forward with the knife. You did not shy away. Hal was incapable of hurting you. He pulled your garment away from you skin, not wanting to cut you. You closed your eyes, waiting to be bare before him.

Soon he'd cut through all you wore, and you were completely naked before him. His eyes drank in your body. Every time he saw you unclothed, it was as if it were that first time all over again.

"My y/n," he purred. "Look at you."

"Hal, love me," you requested. He crawled over to you, a feral glint in his eyes.

"Though I will miss these being as tender as they are," he said, beginning to massage your breasts. You gasped at the feeling. "They are for only two people now, me, and the child you bear."

He flattened his tongue against your sensitive nipple. It was enough to make you scream. He suckled your nipple into his mouth. You loved watching him like this, attending to you. The image was enough to make you come. Once he had been content to do it for hours, loving how you continued to react the same way as time passed.

"Hal, oh Hal," you moaned as he continued to lick your nipples, tracing them with his tongue. The sensation drove you wild. Now he added hands as he lapped and kneaded you felt a cord inside you break, and your orgasm baptized you in bliss.

"That's my girl," Hal praised, as you moaned. "I barely have to touch you."

"You are perfect, my King," you told him.

"And you my darling, are enough to make your own King bow before you," Hal said as he got off the bed and onto his knees. Your legs hung off the bed, and you presented him with your glistening pussy.

"No wine, no matter how fine, has the taste of you my dear," he said as he prepared to devour you. He kitten licked at first, making you squirm, but then he changed. He was lapping at you, tongue blessing your heat as it moved. He sucked your clit into his mouth, then traced it. He had you bucking into his lips, hands tangled in his curls.

There had been times when he'd sat you on his throne, naked, and worshiped your body. Him still in full regalia. You could knock the crown from his head with your needy hands, and he would not reproach you. That was how much he adored you.

"I'm going to come," you told him. He growled his approval into your heat. The vibration pushed you over the edge. You called his name as he continued to lap you through your orgasm.

When his face showed, it was covered in your essence. You were breathing heavily as he licked his lips. He did not wipe his face, but got back on the bed to kiss you thoroughly. You tasted yourself on him, and you moaned into the kiss.

"I can't wait," he said. "I want to see you grow, to see the proof that you are full of me."

He was removing his every article of clothing. You watched, eagerly. His beautiful form was often hidden under so many layers of finery, that you couldn't even make out the shape. You liked him bare the best. His slender body and milk white skin. He was beautiful.

"Yes, Hal," you agreed, as he lined himself up with you. He pushed into you, letting out a deep groan.

"My Goddess," he crooned. "So full, been cummed in so many times. I'll be the envy of every man who knows that you are mine alone, forever."

He was snapping his hips quickly, needy for the feeling of you. He hated any position that hid your face from him. Your breasts bounced as he quickened.

"Everyone will know it was I who bred the finest cunt in the land. It was I that filled her to bursting," he whimpered, only you would every hear the King whimper

"Yes Hal, yes, and you will fill me again and again, all of my days," you agreed, whines leaving your mouth as he fucked deep into you.

"You'll be so swollen with me, and your breasts will be ever heavier with milk. The thought alone is enough to make me explode," he panted.

"Oh Hal, I could live the rest of my life with your cock never leaving my cunt. Imagine you, ruling the kingdom, riding to battle, ordering your men, all with your cock buried in me."

"You're going to make me cum my love," Hal moaned.

"Then do it," you begged. "Fill me again!"

He rutted into you several more times before he was shooting ropes of hot cum inside you. He reached down to toy with your clit as he filled you. The sensation threw you into your third orgasm of the night. You were screaming, arching as it seemed like an impossible amount of cum filled you.

"There you are my Goddess, rest now," Hal said, cock still inside you, but urging you to relax. The two of you fell asleep that way. Lying in your lovers arms didn't have to end anymore, you were his mistress, and the mother of his child.

#reader insert #x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothée chalamet #hal the king #hal x reader #Hal #my goddess

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obwjam · 13 hours ago

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a small surprise part 3 (gravity falls g/t)

omgggggg i'm still doing this! i actually have so much written! i didn't think i'd get this far but i just can't stop. enjoy!

parts 1 and 2!

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

“Alright, shorty, where does this go?”

“Right there. In the – yeah, that one.”

“Are you sure? This doesn’t look right.”

“How would you possibly know what looks right?”

“Don’t question me! I can look at a picture and know what it’s supposed to be!”

“Diagram. It’s a diagram.”

“Psh. Whatever. S’just a word to make dumb nerds seem smarter than the rest of us.”

“Pretty sure Ford is smarter than the rest of us.”

That’s how pretty much every conversation had gone today.

The first couple of days weren’t too bad, though it was mostly spent by Stan working on something alone until he remembered Jay was there. Sometimes, he would disappear into the portal room for hours, trying to get it back on by sheer willpower.

Now, it was day five – no, six – seven? – of the portal reactivation effort, and if Jay had to put a number on it, she’d say zero progress had been made. She was trying her best to honor this truce of sorts that they made, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the days went on, especially the ways he’d mock their size difference.

“Hey, hand me those pliers, won’tcha?” he would say, a wicked smile plastered on his face. Or he’d be sitting on the floor and pretend he couldn’t reach the table when he needed something. More than once, Jay threatened to drop something on his head, but that just seemed to make him laugh even harder.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just teasing you, tiny,” he would say, feigning innocence, and then he’d give her a hearty poke in the back and she’d stumble forward, often half-falling and needing her hands to stop her momentum. “Don’t take it so personal!”

“Easy for you to say,” she’d mumble, rubbing whatever part of her body was now sore.

“Take it from me, kid. When life punches you, you gotta punch back. Don’t be such a pushover.”

It was almost like he was giving advice to himself as much as he was lecturing Jay. She didn’t need to be told how to survive, least of all by a giant.

Jay tried to keep her distance, offering up nuggets of wisdom where she could, but Stan was mostly dismissive of anything she had to say.

Until she actually figured something out.

He was mindlessly flipping through the journal one day when he suddenly stormed off, presumably to find a soda, or something a little stronger. Curious as to what got him so mad, Jay trotted over to the open journal and ambled onto the page, setting her hands on her hips as she read over the impossibly large display.

Jay’s eyes scanned the page dutifully, trying to pick up the little things she learned from Ford. He had shown her that equations that seemed like a random amalgamation of letters, numbers and squiggles actually had meaning when you knew what stood for what.

That’s when she spotted it. It was a large, red W – something Ford called the “weirdness coefficient.” She didn’t know exactly what it was used for, but she actually recognized the string of data that succeeded it. She followed it along, running across the page a few times to get it all in her head. She was so distracted that she never noticed Stanley enter the room, drink in hand. The loud cracking of the can’s tab snapped her back to reality.

“Ew,” Stan said, eyeing her with suspicion as he sat down. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“No! Don’t sit! You’ve gotta help me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think I figured something out.”

Stan nearly spit out his drink. “You? Figuring something out? Hah, sure, and I’m a millionaire.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Jay retorted. “It’s not like you’ve done anything.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, squirt. I’m just gettin’ started.”

Jay rolled her eyes. Stan’s machismo attitude was really unmatched. “Okay, well, can you hear me out on this one?” Stan took a long sip of his soda, then nodded. “Okay, you see this here? This big W? That’s the weirdness coefficient. It’s supposed to account for the average amount of weirdness – or, anomalies – that can leak through to this dimension at any given time. So this equation here, it stipulates the maximum amount of W – weirdness – that can be allowed through P, or the portal. So, we have to make sure the leakage output doesn’t exceed this number here.” She pointed to a bold number circled in red, looking up at Stan, a little winded from all the talking.

Stan blinked. “I have no idea what you just said.”

She groaned. “It means we have to input this number,” she tapped it again for good measure, “into that machine over there.”

Stan squinted at her tiny arm pointing outward, trying to hide his amused smile. He turned around, then turned back. “How do you know that’s the right one?”

“I just know. I saw Ford using it a million times.”

“What if you’re wrong and we blow up the place?”

“Hey, if you don’t trust me, you can just say you don’t trust me.”

“Alright. I don’t trust you.”

“Okay, you weren’t actually supposed to say it,” Jay said, crossing her arms. “Come on! How can we work together if you won’t listen to me?”

Stan tapped his chin. He seemed to actually be thinking about it. “You bring up a valid point.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now, could you put the number in?”

For the slightest moment, Stan hesitated. The inflection in her voice, and the authoritative way in which she spoke, sounded so much like Ford that it almost made him scream. Yes, yes, I know might as well have been his catchphrase. Stan tried really, really hard not to think about it, but for a nanosecond, his mind was filled with so much pain at the reminder of this little person spending so much time with Ford that she picked up on his speaking patterns that it made him want to curl up his fist and –

He stopped. Come on, Stan, you need her. You know you do. The sooner Ford is back, the sooner you’ll never have to see her again.

“Where am I putting it in, short stuff?” he finally asked. Jay tried to point him in the right direction, but even when he found the right knobs, he didn’t know how to do it correctly.

“Ugh, why don’t you just do it?” Stan sighed angrily.

Jay furrowed her brow. “This again? Are you serious?”

“Don't think this doesn't hurt my ego. But the only thing worse than having you do it is listening to you squeak about it,” Stan grumbled. “Now, c’mon, just do this so we can move on.”

Jay nervously laughed. He didn’t sound like he was joking. “Stanley, I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t exactly walk over there and start pressing buttons.”

“What, I thought you wanted to be all self-sufficient? And didn’t you say you were good at climbing?”

Jay clenched her jaw. Maybe telling him little things about borrower life wasn't such a good idea. “Well, yeah, but I don’t – that would take a while, and I don’t think you want to wait. So just, listen, you just have to–”

“Nope! Not this again,” Stan declared. He took a few steps toward her and was now looming over her, hand twitching. She knew what he was about to do, but was powerless to stop it.

“Be – careful!” she yelped. She felt her arm bend uncomfortably against her body as Stan stuck his hand underneath her and lifted her into the air. She shut her eyes tight as the pressure in her head mounted. Even when they stopped moving, it didn’t feel like it.

Stan stared intently, wondering why she wasn’t moving. “Uh. You okay?”

His booming voice only made her ears ring more. It had to be 30 full seconds before she finally felt centered again. Her stomach dropped when she opened her eyes and saw just how far the ground was. Sure, she had been up higher, but the anxiety of sitting in Stan’s hand only exacerbated her unease. She never even felt 100% secure in Ford’s hand, given the way he would sometimes forget she was there. Fidds was the only one she felt remotely comfortable holding her.

“Tiny? Hello?” Stan shook his hand a bit, as if the issue was that she forgot where she was. He felt the tiniest of pressures as she pushed her palms into his, and he immediately stopped moving. Oh.

“Please – move slower,” she croaked, not even bothering to look up at him. “And don’t just pick me up without asking.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” he said, sounding a bit dismissive. Truthfully, he was fully aware and then some about what he just did, but he didn’t want to admit that he probably fucked up. He walked the few steps over to where the control console was and stuck his arm out, holding her out in front like a platform.

“Okay, short stack. Just tell me where to move you.”

“The row of five switches with the red light up there.” Stan pointed to confirm, and she nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

She should have prepared for how fast he was going to move, but it still caught her off guard. She wanted to yell at him for not listening, but getting fresh with a giant while she was in their hand was not something she was interested in.

Stan chuckled in amusement at how much effort it took her to turn the knob, and it turned to a full-blown laugh at the way she couldn’t push one of the switches back up.

“Oh, is this funny to you?” she huffed, clearly exhausted.

“Oh, yes,” Stan grinned. “Extremely.”

“Just – flick it yourself, please,” she sighed, plopping down in his palm. His hand reflexively twitched at the movements, and he shot her a brief look. Man, she actually looks beat from that.

“Fine, fine. Let the big guy show you how it’s done,” Stan said with that smarmy smile. Jay watched incredulously at the way his arm seemed to stretch on forever from his body to the panel. It hung over her like a heavy barrier; something her weight wouldn’t even register against. He could swing his arm and knock her off his hand and he wouldn’t feel a thing.

It was even worse watching him flick the switch with ease. Sure, she had watched Ford and Fidds do crazy human things all the time, but something about the way Stan did it was different. It was almost… taunting.

“There. Now what?”

“Well, if I’m right, it should–”

Suddenly, she couldn’t speak. It was as if her entire body was frozen. A dull sensation reverberated through her, and then, pain. A loud popping sound zapped her ears and she fell backwards, landing hard on her butt, her head ringing, her body aching.

“Woah!” Stan shouted, flinching back. A small spark jumped out from the panel, but he narrowly avoided it. “Was that supposed to–” he started, but stopped. She wasn't moving. Again.

“Hey, tiny, you alright?” Nothing. “Kid?” Still nothing. She was definitely breathing, but seemed to be in a lot of pain. “Jay, you okay?”

She grit her teeth, trying to usher the pain out of her body. Luckily, it melted away after a few seconds, and even though her head was spinning, she was alright. It was no worse than being whipped around on Stan’s hand, anyway.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, though her voice almost sounded like it was glitching. She took another moment to recompose herself. “Guess it didn’t work.”

Stan almost forgot to respond. “I don’t even know what it was supposed to do.”

“It was supposed to – once you put in the W maximum, it should have calibrated a couple other systems. Thing must be fried after the portal was turned on.”

“Oh,” Stan said, pretending to understand. “So, how do we fix it?”

“I – don’t know,” Jay admitted. “I’ve never been inside there before. Not really sure what to do with the wires.”

Stan hummed, unsure of where to go from here. This was the most tangible progress they had made since forming this unlikely alliance, and it got them nowhere.

“Well, uh, if it makes you feel any better… good job.” Jay winced at the way he sounded like the words were being tortured out of him. “Figuring this thing out, I mean.”

“I got it,” Jay said, a small smile forming on her lips. Why did that compliment make her feel so… warm? “Thanks, Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t be expecting any more compliments from me,” he shot back, though there was no bite to it. “Don’t want you going soft on me.”

“Psh. Never in a million years,” Jay teased.

To her surprise, Stan set her down slowly on the table before burying his head back in the journal. He was only half-reading it, though, because he couldn’t get his mind off Jay. It was so contradictory – every time she did something impressive, like spout mathematical nonsense she had no business knowing, she would be rendered immobile by a slight altitude change or a small electric shock. She was so much more fragile than he thought. It was beginning to dawn on him that he actually did have to be careful, or else he might accidentally kill her. He shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t be so reckless when it came to someone’s entire life.

Not again.

Ever since then, he seemed to care a little bit more about her opinion, which confused Jay to no end, but she didn’t complain. Even if he was invasive and had no regard for her personal space, he seemed to have a... gentler air about him. Like he was trying more.

But it didn’t always show, especially when he got frustrated. They were rapidly approaching that territory right now.

“I think the red wire has to connect to the other end,” she said, glancing at the journal. “No, not that one, the other one! Right there – you keep missing it!”

Stan clenched his teeth. He was getting tired of being bossed around. “Well, if it’s so easy, why don’t you come do it?”

Jay felt her blood boil. “I hate when you say that.”

Stan grinned wildly. “I know.”

“Ugh.” Jay flopped on her back. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

“We? You’re not even doin’ anything.” Stan abandoned his rewiring effort and joined Jay at the table. “Maybe you’re reading this thing wrong.” He grabbed the journal and pulled it to him, taking Jay along with it. She yelped and held on tight as she was moved at a blinding speed from one side of the table to the other.

“C’mon, get off,” Stan began to shoo her away like a fly, and Jay quickly jumped off the book. “I gotta look at this thing.”

Jay stumbled when she landed, staring up at Stan with a disapproving look until she gave up trying to telegraph her annoyance. The worst part was he didn’t ignoring her maliciously; he genuinely didn’t care that she was there. She swallowed, her unease growing at the extended silence as Stan scanned the journal. She had been in close physical proximity to him for basically a week now, and it was unnerving. She had no idea what he was ever going to do, and the only thing stopping him from picking her up all the time was that she grossed him out. But that didn’t feel like a strong enough motivator to stop him from swiping her clean off the table if he got mad enough.

“Ugh, what am I missing?” Stan groaned. He tilted his head, along with the journal, trying to find some hidden message.

Jay marveled at the way he so easily swung the book around. “I don’t think you’re missing anything. There’s only so many ways to read it.”

“C’mon, short stack, you hung out with my know-it-all brother more than any female ever has. You gotta know something. What about these…” he narrowed his eyes, “weird secret codes?”

“Yeah, I’ve tried my best with those, but I don’t think I know enough to figure them out.”

“I’ll say,” Stan mumbled under his breath. Jay heard it, but chose to ignore it.

Stan took a moment to think. Maybe I should go to the library and find a book about this or somethin’. Hah, now I’m really thinking like Ford. But the last thing he wanted was to go into town. There had to be an answer in the journal somewhere. Where there’s a test, there’s always an answer sheet.

But first, he was going to do it his way.

“I’m gonna go shove the lever around again,” Stan announced, grabbing the tool box and disappearing into the portal room. Jay knew it was a futile effort, so while Stan got himself needlessly tired, she would go back to working on her secret project — the new hook that would buy her freedom.

At best, Stan was tolerable, and being at his mercy was giving her increasing amounts of anxiety. If she couldn’t go back for the contraptions that Fidds made her, she’d just have to do it the old fashioned way. But she only went to work when Stan was asleep or in the portal room. There was no way he could know about this.

Jay had been relegated to sleeping on the table while Stan was here. He had only gone upstairs to get food and drinks, often falling asleep right on the table and getting back to work when his own snores jolted him awake.

Thankfully, there was plenty of material to work with. Not so thankfully, none of it was a rope and a paper clip. She had already fashioned two hooks out of sharp pieces of metal, so her next step was either finding something long enough to lower her to the ground or tying a bunch of short but sturdy things together. Even a parachute could work at this rate.

Her mind flashed back to times with Ford, when they would test out her physics with paper hang gliders and makeshift obstacle courses out of rulers and tape dispensers. He went through a phase of trying to see how far a fall she could take before hurting herself, but that only lasted a week before Jay made him drop the subject. His final conclusion? “Very far.”

Evidently, though, she got too into tinkering, because she didn’t even notice when Stan walked back into the room, jacket shed and face sweaty from all the work. He watched her curiously, trying to see what exactly she was doing. Maybe she just messes with metal like it’s a toy or something. She was working on sharpening her hooks and finding heavy enough things to wrap them around when Stan cleared his throat, and she nearly shot 500 feet in the air.

“What’re you doing?” Stan asked.

“Nothing!” Jay squeaked. “I mean, not nothing nothing, I’m just – it’s –”

But Stan was no longer interested in her ramblings. He reached down and carefully pinched one of the metal hooks between his fingers, ripping it right out of her hands.

“HEY!” she yelled, but to no avail. Even if she could fight him for it, it wouldn’t have mattered, because her legs turned to jelly and her arms became numb the moment his massive fingers came next to her, filling her entire body with a sense of dread. She quickly let go to avoid being pulled up into the air.

“What is this…?” Stan turned the object, observing it intently, marveling at just how damn small it was. Jay felt sick at how miniscule her only path to freedom looked between Stan’s fingers.

“It’s nothing! Give it back!” she tried, but one glance from Stan promptly shut her up and even pushed her back a few steps. God, he’s so far away.

“Huh… you made this?” he asked, holding it out to her. She just shrugged, unwilling to answer.

Stan wouldn’t have been suspicious otherwise, but he had spent the better part of his life either around criminals or being the criminal. He knew what guilt looked like. He also knew a bad liar when he saw one. He just couldn’t figure out what she was trying to hide.

Not at first, anyway.

He tried to think: if he was that tiny, what would he need something like this for? It certainly wasn’t for fixing the portal, so what was it for? Fun? Stan didn’t know what was so fun about bent metal. Maybe she was just bored? Then there was no reason for her to act so suspicious. She would have just said so.

Then it hit him. What’s the one thing she wanted more than anything, besides getting Ford back? To be left alone. And it wasn’t like she could just walk out of the room whenever she wanted.

She had been looking for an escape since Stan found her. She was manufacturing a way out.

Stan ahh’d in realization, and the way Jay’s face went pale was all the confirmation he needed.

“Not sure how you were planning to escape with this, and I admire the effort. Really! But you can’t hustle a hustler, kid.”

Jay didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t matter. Her heart was pounding, her breathing labored. She had no clue what was coming next.

“Look, if you don’t wanna be here, I won’t stop you. In case you haven't noticed, I’m not running a charity here. I’m trying to get my brother back, and I can’t seem to figure out if that’s really what you want or not.” He callously tossed the metal back to her, and she scrambled out of the way as it clanged a few inches from her. “So scram, alright? Get outta here.”

Jay blinked. He was… really going to let her go like that? She didn’t believe him. Humans didn’t do that. They never did. They’d always be back.

But that part didn’t even matter, because she did want Ford back. Even with the threat of opening the portal, she wanted her best friend back more than anything. She just really, really hated working with his irritating brother, and she didn’t know how to deal with him. The only people she had ever dealt with this closely were Ford and Fidds. She wasn’t used to anything else. She couldn't handle anything else.

“I’m – I’m not trying to – to leave,” Jay stammered. God, that sounded so pathetic. “I just – need some freedom, that’s all.”

A light went off in Stan’s head. “You can’t leave, can you?”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Of course I can leave–”

“No, not this room, this house. You don’t want to leave here. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”

“I–” Jay started, but she had no words. He was right. He was right, damn it! He saw her as this helpless little thing, and he was right.

“Huh, so the squirt that thinks she’s better than me needs me to keep her safe. Right?”

“I don’t – I don’t think I’m better than you!” Jay said, but it didn’t sound convincing. And she didn’t even try and dispute the other point.

Stan’s face scrunched up. “Huh, you sure act like it. Well, squirt, you may need me, but I don’t need you. If you disappeared right now, I wouldn’t waste my energy lookin’ for you, because I’m the one who actually cares about fixing this damn thing and saving Ford!”

Jay knew fighting back would be a bad idea. It had never, ever worked before. But she couldn’t take the constant antagonizing. She just couldn’t.

“Stop acting like I don’t want him back, either!” Jay blurted. Stan looked at her in surprise, but it was too late. The floodgates were open. She was tired of hearing this. “It’s just – it’s dangerous! And there’s only so much I can do!”

“Yeah, and you do a pretty terrible job! Half the time you sit there and mock me for not knowing the “difference” between a picture and a diagram! And there isn’t even a difference!”

“There is!”

“See! You’re just like Ford, always talking down to me, acting like I’m just some – bumbling idiot who can’t possibly be on his level.”

“That’s not true!” Jay asserted. “I don’t think you’re an idiot!”

“Well you certainly fooled me!”

“You’re just – so stubborn!” Jay was nearing the edge of the table now. “You ask for my help, and yet you can’t even fathom that I would know something you don’t!”

“Maybe I’d listen to you more if you weren’t so damn tiny! I’m taking orders from someone who can’t even walk up the stairs by herself!”

Jay’s eyes widened in shock. Oh, so that was it. Of course it was. How could she think it was anything else? Her heart was racing now, her stomach churning. How could she respond? Why did she ever think she could fight a giant?

“And you act like you’re so much better because you were best friends with him,” Stan sneered, placing particular mocking emphasis on that part. “He’s MY brother! MY family! He probably only talked to you because you’re – weird and small and he felt bad! You’re just a thing, an experiment for him to get all excited about! He never cared about you!”

Jay knew responding would be a bad idea, but her lips moved faster than her brain. “Oh yeah? He didn’t even want to think about you! I didn’t even know you existed until you showed up here! Maybe if you weren’t such a lazy freeloader, he would–”

It was at that moment her life flashed before her eyes.

#the suspense!!!#and the rewrites i did for this entire part...#ended up having to split it in two #my downfall is trying to make things as realistic as possible #which is definitely achievable when writing about four inch tall people #gravity falls g/t #gravity falls #g/t #giant/tiny #obwrites

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maya65789 · 3 days ago

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Falling in love

Pairings: Mark lee x f!member reader summary: You are in love with Mark, but you don't know if he has feelings for you or not, and also you are members of the same band, so you are afraid that the company and fans will notice. Note: I apologize if there are any mistakes. English is not my first language , and sometimes I use translation in some words or sentences, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

I knew I was bad at writing stories, but I didn't think I was this bad. If you read this, just bear with me. I will get better with time.

Mark eyes always seemed to linger longer on you than the other members, was he feeling something he shouldn't be feeling?Y/N's heart fluttered every time Mark looked at her, but she tried to push it down, to ignore the growing feelings she had for him. It was just a crush, right?But as time passed, those feelings only grew stronger. You found yourself finding any excuse to be around him, to just get the chance to talk to him for a few seconds.Y/N's thoughts were interrupted as she remembered the strict rules the company had set in place. It was forbidden for members to date each other, and she knew the fans wouldn't take it well if they found out.As a result, she had to keep her feelings hidden, burying them deep down inside. However, every time Mark would glance at her, or make a passing comment, her heart would skip a beat, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her emotions in check.

She didn't know how much longer she could go on like this, keeping all of her emotions inside and pretending like everything was normal. It was like walking a tightrope every day, knowing that one misstep could mean the end of her career and her secret.Meanwhile, the other members of NCT started to take notice of how Y/N would act around Mark. They would catch her stealing glances at him during practice and how she would blush every time he would talk to her.At first, they thought it was just a harmless crush, but as time passed, they could see that it was developing into something more. They would jokingly tease her about it, but deep down they knew that it was a precarious situation. They also didn't know how Mark felt about Y/N. He was usually pretty good at hiding his feelings, but they noticed the way his eyes lingered on her during performances and how he always seemed to be the first one to help her when she needed something.As her fellow members, they couldn't just ignore the situation. They knew they had to talk to her, to make sure she wasn't getting in too deep and to warn her about the dangers of pursuing a relationship with another member.And so, one evening after practice, they pulled her aside and spoke to her about Mark. They told her they knew about her feelings, and warned her about the risks of pursuing a relationship that could ruin her career.

Y/N: what?? (The other members looked at her seriously, their faces filled with a mixture of concern and understanding)

Johnny: "We've all noticed the way you've been looking at Mark. It's pretty obvious you have feelings for him."Doyoung: "We just want to make sure you understand the risks. The company has strict rules against dating between members, and if it ever came out, it could ruin your career."Y/N: I know but... Taeyong: "We understand how you feel, Y/N. We know how hard it is to keep those feelings suppressed, but you have to think about the future. Your future in the group and in the entertainment business."Y/N: But I don't even know if he loves me. Jungwoo: "That's another risk. Even if he does have feelings for you, what if things don't work out? What if you guys break up and it affects the group dynamic?"Yuta: "We just don't want to see you get hurt, or worse. We care about you, we want you to be careful."Y/N: I will try

The members smiled, appreciating that she was understanding their concern and advice. They knew they couldn't make her stop her feelings, but at least they had warned her about the potential risks. As the conversation ended, Y/N walked away, her mind whirling with thoughts. She knew they were right, but she couldn't help the way she felt about Mark. And now, she couldn't stop wondering if he felt the same. Over the following days, Y/N found herself more observant of Mark and his behavior towards her. Every glance, every smile, every word he said to her, she analyzed, trying to find any hint or sign that he might feel the same way she did. Y/N tried to keep her distance, to follow the advice of the other members. Every time Mark tried to initiate a conversation, she would find a way to cut it short, making sure not to give her feelings away. It was hard. Every fiber of her being wanted to talk to him, to ask him how he was, to seek comfort in his presence. But she fought it each time, her mind filled with the warnings of the other members and the consequences if their feelings for each other were discovered.

Mark slowly began to notice her change in behavior. He found her more distant, less willing to talk to him like she used to. He wondered if he had done something wrong, did he say something out of line to make her pull away like this?Each time he would try to approach her, she would make an excuse and leave. It made him feel confused and hurt. Why was she avoiding him all of a sudden? Had he done something wrong?Concerned and confused, Mark went to the other members, seeking answers. He approached Taeyong first, knowing that he was one of the most empathetic members in the group.

Mark: "Hey hyung , can I talk to you about something?"Taeyong: "Of course, Mark, what's on your mind?"Mark: "It's about Y/N... she's been acting differently lately. She's avoiding me and won't talk to me like she used to."Taeyong could see the confusion and disappointment in Mark's eyes. He knew the reason behind Y/N's behavior, but he didn't want to betray her trust. He struggled with what he should do, torn between protecting his friend and keeping her secretTaeyong: "Mark, I um... I think I know why she's been acting like this."Mark: "Really? Why? Is it something I did?"Taeyong took a deep breath. He didn't know how to say it without sounding like he was meddling, but he knew that Mark deserved an answer. Taeyong: "It's not something you did, but... well... I think Y/N is avoiding you because she has feelings for you."

Mark's eyes widened, startled by the confession. He wasn't sure how to respond, his mind reeling with the information. Taeyong: "But I can't say more. She doesn't want you to know, and the rest of us are just worried about where this could lead, considering the company's rules."Mark nodded slowly, still trying to process this revelation. He wasn't sure what he should do about it, but knowing that Y/N had feelings for him made his heart skip a beat. (He thanked Taeyong for telling him, and walked away with a new understanding of the situation. As he was alone with his thoughts, he began to wonder, did he have feelings for her too?)He spent the next few days observing Y/N from a distance. He watched her interactions with the other members, how she would laugh and smile with them, but how her expression would change when she caught sight of him. He began to realize that maybe he did feel something for her too. As the days passed, Mark could no longer stand the distance between them. He had to talk to her, to clear the air. So, one evening after practice, he approached her as she was packing up her belongings.

Mark: "Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to you for a minute?"(Y/N looked up, her heartbeat quickening at the sound of his voice. She was nervous, knowing what he probably wanted to talk about)Y/N: "Um... sure, what is it?"Mark: "I've noticed you've been avoiding me lately. Can I ask why?"(Y/N was caught off guard by his directness and she struggled to find the words, her cheeks heating up)Y/N: "I... I just... I've been busy lately, I guess. I didn't mean to avoid you..."(Y/N shifted on her feet under his gaze, her eyes looking anywhere but into his. She didn't know that Taeyong had spilled her secret to Mark, and her heart was racing in her chest)Mark: "Y/N, are you sure that's the only reason? Because it seems like you've been avoiding me even more than usual. Did I do something to upset you?"(Y/N was getting more and more flustered with each question Mark asked. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, and her palms were starting to sweat)Mark: (seeing her nervous state) "Y/N, are you okay? You're all flushed..."

(Y/N felt like she was under a bright spotlight with him observing her so closely. She felt like she needed to find a way to change the subject before she completely unraveled)Y/N: "I-I'm fine, really. Just tired, that's all."(Y/N looked into Mark's eyes, her emotions swirling in her head. She wanted to tell him the truth, to confess everything she was feeling, but she was so scared of his reaction, scared he would reject her.)She took a deep breath, forcing herself to look away from him. She couldn't bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. But then she found herself whispering in a barely audible voice, her words escaping before she could stop them. Y/N: "I-I can't tell you... it's too complicated..."(Mark heard the words, his heart aching at the pain in her voice. He wanted to know what she was hiding, but he also knew that he needed to be gentle with her)Mark: "Y/N, please... you know you can trust me. Whatever it is, I won't judge you."(Y/N's heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. She took a shuddering breath, looking up into Mark's eyes. The words she had been so scared to say were right on the tip of her tongue)Y/N: "I... I can't keep it hidden anymore. Mark, I... I love you."

(There was a moment of stunned silence as the words hung in the air between them. Mark was taken aback, his eyes wide as he tried to process what she had just said)Mark had known from Taeyong that Y/N loved him, but hearing her say the words out loud still made his heart skip a beat. He had never expected her to confess her feelings like that, and he wasn't sure how to respond. (Meanwhile, the other members of NCT were watching the scene unfold from afar. They were all hidden in the shadows, witnessing the intimate moment between Mark and Y/N)They watched as Mark and Y/N stood there, eyes locked on each other. They could see the tension in the air, could see the emotions on both Mark and Y/N's faces. They could see that something important was happening between their two members. (Mark was still reeling from Y/N's confession of love. His mind was racing with thoughts about what this meant for them, how to respond without hurting her)He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. He reached out and took her hand, holding it gently in his palm.

Mark: "Y/N... I have to tell you something too."Y/N: "What is it?" (Her heart was hammering in her chest, bracing for whatever he was about to say)Mark: "I... I feel the same way." (He looked into her eyes, his expression sincere and honest)Y/N: "R-really? You do?" (The hope in her voice was tangible. She desperately wanted to believe what she was hearing, but a small part of her was still afraid it wasn't true)Mark: "Yes, I do. I've been realizing it more and more these past few days." (He gently squeezed her hand in reassurance)Y/N: "But... what about the rules? What if the company finds out?"(Mark smiled softly, putting his other hand on hers)

Mark: "I know there are rules, but I don't care about any of that. I care about you, and about us. We'll figure it out, together. Whatever challenges come our way, we'll face them together."(Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. Hearing him say those words made her feel more secure, more reassured that they could somehow make this work, no matter what obstacles they faced)Mark: "But we need to be discreet for now. We can't let the company or the fans find out until we figure things out. Can you handle that?"Y/N: "I can handle it. I just... I just don't want to have to hide how I feel about you."Mark: "I don't want that either, but it's for our own good. At least for now. We can still spend time together, just... more discreetly."(Mark pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. The other members, who were still watching from afar, couldn't help but feel happy for the two of them. They let out a quiet cheer, silently wishing them well on their new relationship)As Mark and Y/N held each other, they both felt a sense of peace. They knew they had a tough road ahead, with lots of secrets and challenges to keep their relationship private, but they were determined to make it work. As long as they had each other, they could face anything.

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