#PTSD implied

[starstruck-flames]

Comfort - Mirio

A/N: Please… please forgive any shitty writing/typos! I still have a cold… recovering from a tattoo. My god it never ends!

You know, it takes a lot to feel ready to love again. I just want you to know I’m really proud of you.

Content includes!! Shower fluff, shower smut, implied trauma/PTSD, Mirio is a big ol softie but also he’s loving what he seeees, overall this is just a soft loving post but as always tell me if I miss something!, fingering, soft sex implied after

Song for your mood?

He could hear the shower as soon as he walked through your apartment door. Chances are you poorly timed it for his arrival, that’s okay! He smiles, striding over to the bathroom door. He can hear music playing but…

A knock.

“Mirio?!” He hears you call out, clearly you definitely didn’t realise what time it is… he can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Sure is! Mind if I come in? Or do you want privacy today?”

“…Come on in!”

He can’t help but smile softly, of course he wants you to know when those boundaries are set but it does always make it more fun when he can appreciate the natural state of your body. He gets himself all hyped up just thinking about it as he runs back out to the hallway, knowing EXACTLY which wall leads into your shower. He grins, letting his head phase through slowly.

Though, what he didn’t expect was for you to be totally ready for that, giving him a wet kiss on the forehead.

And my…

The view is impeccable.

“Haha… hey sunshine!” He calls out, glancing around. “I’m gonna come through, back up a little for me?”

You take a step back as Mirio phases through, his clothes obviously already off as he lets out a soft sigh at the hot water against both of you.

“I needed this…”

He looks a little surprised as he feels you press up against him, not in a… sexual way but it’s clear you needed some love right now. Mirio chuckles, pressing a soft kiss against your wet hair.

“And this. Is everything ok?”

“Rough day.” Is muttered out, your face smushed up against his chest. “…Memories is all.”

His smile flattens a little as he hears this, pulling you in more for a tight embrace. Mirio’s hand messing with your hair as he thinks on what he should say…

“You’ve come to trust me a lot more, haven’t you honey?” He asks softly, feeling you nod against his chest. “And I think… I really do think that’s incredible. I can’t imagine how it even feels but I can only imagine how incredible you are to be strong enough to keep going.”

You feel his chest let out a long huff, struggling to speak. He knows you don’t need words but he really wants you to know just how he feels. It’s incredible to watch from his perspective, and maybe it’s a little biased but Mirio truly, truly loves you for your strength. Even if he’s physically stronger, ehe.

He takes a step back, making you look at him as he smiles. “I really couldn’t be luckier to have met you, and to have your trust. I hope you know that.”

Planting a soft kiss on your wet skin again, he chuckles, noticing your wandering eyes. Maybe you hadn’t intended to look… there, but he knows sometimes you get embarrassed by these softer moments.

“Hey, hey, eyes up here sunshine.” He chuckles, leaning in ever so slightly. “Unless you…” He trails off, wondering if this is badly timed. “Hey, if I’m ever being a pig, tell me, okay?”

“You’re not.” Is all you can respond, fingers… ever so lightly trailing his abdomen. “I’m really glad you found the patience to love me.”

He smiles brightly again, his hair completely flattened by the water at this point as his hands wrap around your butt. He’s careful, pressing you up against the shower wall.

“Honey… I would have waited years for you if you needed it.” He chuckles. “Of course… I am glad to be here. Right now. With you.”

There’s a long pause.

“…Can I-“

“Yes.”

He smiles softly, pulling you into a gentle kiss. His fingers are careful, feeling around your hole before a single digit slips in. The small gasp and whine as he presses in is enough to already start making him go crazy but today… today he’s going to make sure you feel nothing but loved. His movements are slow, precise as he feels your body respond oh so positively to him. And his body aches for you.

“Now… one more question.”

“Mm?”

“Do you want to keep going here or…?”

[to0needy]

not being able to kill myself is the worst feeling

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Tags: Romance, fluff, smut, mental health, healing from trauma, enemies to lovers, slow burn, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending.

MINORS DNI.

* This story is complete *

Chapter Directory:

The Book, or Inez is a Fucking Goddess

The Mission, or Is Barfing on Captain America's Shoes Treason?

The Hospital Room, or Give My Best to Ovid

The Beginning, or Tin Man, Beefcake, Man Bun, and Natasha

The Beginning's Beginning, or The Abridged and Heavily Redacted Life and Times of Cleo Blake

The Crystal, or Cleo's Mother is Right for the First Time in Recorded History

The Neighbor, or Meg's Goldfish Might Need a New Godmother

The Assignment, or In Defense of the Mighty Ovary

The Lie, or The Truth Without the Calories

The Run, or To the Window, to the Wall, 'Til the Sweat is Fucking Everywhere

The Test, or Clint's No Good Very Bad Day

The Power, or The Mandatory Forced Proximity Event

The Theories, or Overwhelmed by the Power of Quarterflash

The Question, or I'll Make an Avenger Out of You

The Name, or A Return to My Natural Habitat

The Philosopher, or If You Want Peace, Prepare for War

The Phone Call, or Hey Look, Ma, I Made It

The Text, or As Easy as Biting off Your Own Finger

The Bar, or Good Company and Bad Jokes

The Interruption, or An Abundance of Party Crashers - Part One

The Interruption, or An Abundance of Party Crashers - Part Two

The Haircut, or Level Two Friendship Activities

The Appointment, or Therapy is One Hell of a Drug

The Lamp, or Making a Habit

The Visitor, or Eight Harry Potter Movies and One Second of Bravery

The File, or Secrets, Sparring, and Escapes

The Fuck-Up, or The Road so Far is Full of Mistakes

The Friend, or Low Times at Sneaky Pete's

The Moment

The Note, or The Thesis Defense from Hell

The Soldier, or I Fucking Love You

The Intervention, or Righting Some Wrongs

The Miracle, or Ten Words and a Thousand Kisses

Bonus Content:

Character Doodle - Cleo

Avengers Karaoke Jams Playlist

Character Doodle - The Siren Suit

Character Doodle - The Philosopher

Angry Feminist Killjoy Playlist

Poll - What comes next?

Character Doodle - The Siren Suit with Helmet

[bpdmaxxer]

“But he was just a child”

So was I

And I’m suffering and he’s not

[pineconepie]

Hello! I love your stories! What if the reader came back to Cullen and August with severe PTSD and trauma? For example, how would they handle a reader who hates to be touched in any way due to their trauma or if the reader cannot handle loud noises like yelling? Would they force the reader to still have cuddles with them or would they give them space?

I got a few similar asks to this, so I'll just answer them all with this one!

They'd both handle it pretty differently, but the biggest similarity is they'd both really be trying their hardest.

Cullen would be better at understanding your boundaries, and would gently remind August to give you more space, even though he wants to hold you just as much as his husband.

Where he'd struggle, is yelling. Typically he's an overall easy-going guy, but I think his worry for you would cause his stress to skyrocket sometimes, and he'd lash out when you flinch from him or refuse to eat.

It's not something he'd do to hurt you, and he'd always feel beyond guilty about it each time.

"Dammit, don't look at me like I'm gonna hit you! I'd never, why can't you get that through your head?! Do you know how much it hurts to see your kid, who you love more than anything, looking at you as if you're a monster?!?" *pause* "Wait, no, no, sweetie, I'm sorry--"

Meanwhile, August would be best in terms of calming Cullen down and reacting to your panic attacks, and any other trauma-related issue that may happen, but of course he'd still be extremely overbearing.

He'd cry and unintentionally make you feel guilty each time you look at him in fear, hide from him, flinch from him, etc. He'd basically break down each time, but would always speak gently to you regardless.

His biggest struggle would come in terms of respecting your boundaries. He'd constantly be trying to hold you, kiss your forehead, pet your hair, anything.

And each time, he'd act heartbroken if you express not wanting that.

I think he'd never force cuddles, but he would plead and continue unintentionally manipulating you.

"Please, I just want to hold my baby again... it's been so long since I've gotten to. You're breaking your Papa's heart..."

[badaziraphaletakes]

Making jokes and laughing about a frightening experience does NOT mean someone does not appreciate the gravity of a situation. Quite the contrary, in fact - it is a very, very common way of processing trauma.

In fact, I can't offhand think of any traumatized people I know who haven't make a joke about their traumatic experience/s. It's a deeply normal, human thing to do.

(And please don't try to tell me Aziraphale seeing Crowley be kidnapped and then being hit over the head with a crowbar (?), violently kidnapped himself, and dragged to hell, and then seeing the awful people and place Crowley had been stuck with for the past 100k+ years, witnessing the usher being murdered in cold blood before his eyes, and wondering if the same thing might happen to him, and/or if he hell was going to discover his and Crowley's secret, not to mention seeing for probably the first time what exactly the thermos of holy water would have done to Crowley if he'd used it, wasn't traumatic. First of all, that just is. Second of all, look at his irises. He was probably having a bit of fun - not surprising considering how relieved he was that the holy water didn't work on him and hell appeared not to have caught onto the deception; of course you'd be a bit giddy - but he was also terrified and scarred and angry and disgusted and I don't even know what else.)

There's a reason the rates of depression found among comedians are off-the-charts. And it's not because humor causes depression (we know it actually alleviates it). It's because traumatized people and people with mental illness (I mean, the Venn diagram between those groups is basically a circle, but y'know) gravitate to humor. It is one of the most powerful weapons we have to ward off despair. Humor can save us when nothing else can.

It can also stop you from wanting to punch someone when you're really, really angry. I propose that we can see smoldering contempt and fury and outrage and disgust on Aziraphale's face at the end of the scene, hidden just under that cheeky grin. It's some masterful acting work by Tennant, so many emotions going on at the same time.

Also - may I point out that Crowley loved Aziraphale's jokes about the whole thing. Aziraphale knows how to cheer Crowley up. A big part of the reason he was so sarcastic in hell was for Crowley, to score some points against the people who have been oppressing him for millennia without him ever being able to answer back. (And also he was acting that way because he figured it was how Crowley would act and he had to be convincing. If he'd gone in there and hadn't been 100% confidence and swagger, hell would have noticed something was off. They're paranoid, and Beelzebub, at least, is smart. No flies on that one. Heh, heh. Did Aziraphale overplay it a bit? Maybe. But the deception worked, so clearly his approach was correct overall.)

And finally: Don't tell me Crowley wasn't having a little fun with all this, too. His laugh on the bench was sincere:

He could arguably also be accused of overplaying it a bit with the neck cracking (which I don't blame him for; I would have done the same - but I don't see anyone getting mad at him for having a little fun the way they did with Azi):

And he LOVED getting to breathe fire at Gabriel & Co.

Which is exactly as it should be. :)

[it-never-gets-better]

MY BODY TURNED INTO A CORPSE WHEN YOU TOUCHED IT VIOLENTLY.

[16woodsequ]

[devilboycomic]

The prettiest sinner 🌼

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Fuck-Up, or The Road so Far is Full of Mistakes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, eventual smut, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: *clears throat* Sing it with me, now - angst angst angst angst angst angst everybody! Also, the second title of this chapter is a reference to the show Supernatural. I'm as big of a nerd as Cleo is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Cleo and Bucky take turns being real bad at feelings.

Chapter Directory

I have half a mind to ignore the knock on my door when it comes, interrupting my very important laying-on-the-floor-in-an-anxiety-spiral time. In fact, I try to, but it comes again - firm and clear - so I huff a frustrated grunt and climb to my feet.

When I open it, Bucky is standing there. I sigh deeply. “Bucky, I appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to do, but I think we should just call it a night.”

He rocks nervously on his feet. “Did you know that I didn’t enlist?” he blurts out, completely ignoring what I’ve just said.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I was drafted, actually. Steve was always the gung-ho patriot… I just wanted to go to college.”

I take a step back and open my door wide. “Alright, come in.”

He nods and makes for my couch, pausing to stare at the framed photos I recently hung on the wall above my kitchen table. In the center is the picture we took on our shopping trip - Bucky with his head tipped back in laughter and me grinning widely at the camera. He smiles softly at it before shaking his head and continuing on to the couch.

I sit down on a chair opposite him, giving myself some distance. “So you wanted to go to college?”

Bucky nods, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands, watching his own movements intently. “I did, yeah. Don’t know what for, but I thought I’d figure it out when I got there. Instead, I got drafted.”

I look at him with a tender expression. “I’m so sorry, James. That isn’t fair - you should’ve gotten to go to college.”

He finally meets my eyes. “No - I mean, thank you, but that wasn’t my point in telling you. I’m just trying to say…” He rubs a hand roughly down his face, a gesture I’ve become quite familiar with. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes shit happens that’s out of our control, and it ends up changing things. I got drafted, shipped off overseas, fell off a goddamn train, and ended up frozen and brainwashed by HYDRA with this thing.” He holds up his metal arm. “If I’d gotten to go to college like I wanted, I’d never have been turned into the Winter Soldier.”

I nod, not really understanding where he’s going with this, but wanting to hear him out all the same.

“As much as I want to say I’m the same person, that nothing’s changed, that would be a lie.”

I sigh, understanding washing over me. I pause for a moment before speaking. “You know, I fucking hate it when people say ‘everything happens for a reason.’”

Bucky frowns. “I never said -”

I hold up a hand to let him know I’m not done, and he nods. “I fucking hate it, because it feels like the kind of thing you say to someone who’s gone through something major when you’re too uncomfortable to say anything real. And it’s a complete lie - sometimes things happen for no other reason than people are shit, and make shitty choices. And then we,” I wave a hand between the two of us. “We have to deal with the fallout of those choices, even though we aren’t the ones who made them.”

I put my fingers to my temples, resting my elbows on my knees. “It’s stupid of me to think that knowing about Robert wouldn’t change the way you see me. But I’ve been living my whole adult life dealing with the fallout of his shitty choices, and sometimes I just get sick of it and want one single thing that hasn’t been impacted by what happened.”

Bucky nods. “I really do understand that, Cleo.”

I smile sadly at him. “I know you do.”

“Does knowing about the Soldier change how you see me?”

I sigh. “I see what you’re doing, Barnes - you’re not sneaky.” He chuckles. “Fuck, of course it does. But not in a bad way - I just… I feel like I know you better, the more I know about the Soldier, and…” I wipe at the corner of my eye, shocked to find a tear spilling out. “James, it makes me so fucking proud of the man you are right now, knowing how hard you had to work to get here.”

Bucky blushes furiously, but doesn’t try to hide his face. “Then you understand how I feel about you.”

I stand and pace over to my kitchen table, bracing my arms against it. My crystal is glowing, my eyes are leaking tears, and I just know my face is as red as Bucky’s. “I really don’t like this mushy stuff.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Bucky says sarcastically, chuckling.

I roll my eyes and turn back to him. “So… What do we do now?”

Bucky shrugs. “I seem to recall asking you about a show you recommended before you took off earlier.” He walks over to me and holds his arm out.

Though my mind is screaming at me to shut things down again, I decide to try taking my therapist and Meg’s advice for once. 

I accept the olive branch and grab the crook of his metal elbow, linking our arms and walking with him to my door. “It’s called Supernatural, and it’s fifteen seasons of absolute madness. It’s a pretty big undertaking.”

Bucky nods, peering down at me. “I think we can handle it.”

“Fifteen seasons though.” I whistle, opening my door. “That’s a lot of hours to be stuck with me on the couch, Barnes.”

“I know,” he says, looking ahead. My door closes behind us as we start the short distance to his room. “That’s most of the draw.”

I grin and look down. 

“I also just think ghosts are pretty cool.”

I laugh and nudge him with our linked arms, and he nudges me back. Bucky’s nudge is significantly harder, though - however unintentional that may be given his super strength - and he’s forced to yank me back to save me from falling into the wall. I stumble over my feet and collide with his side, and he takes the opportunity to reposition his arm, unlinking it from mine and wrapping it around my shoulders. 

I inhale a gasp of air at the rapid succession of events, exhaling it slowly to gather my nerve. As we walk, I lean my head against his chest just like that night on his couch, and Bucky responds to the movement by holding tighter with his metal arm. Neither of us says a word as we amble down the hall, but the silence is comfortable - easy, even.

As we near Bucky’s door, Steve’s creaks open and I freeze. I expect Bucky to withdraw from me, to school his face into that familiar, icy mask, but he doesn’t.

“Hey, Buck, I was just going to -” Steve falls silent when he sees the two of us and presses his lips together tightly, clearly hiding a wide smile. 

I force myself to look at him squarely, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, hoping to the gods that I’m not blushing as furiously as I think I am. I glance at Bucky out of the corner of my eye, and he’s grinning confidently - almost cockily - at Steve. In this moment, I completely see the ladies’ man Bucky used to be. Still is, if I’m being honest with myself.  

Steve clears his throat, eyes dancing with barely-controlled glee as he observes his best friend’s face. “I was just going to tell you,” he continues, “that I’m grabbing something from the common room and then turning in.” He gives an obviously fake yawn, stretching his arms overhead dramatically. “I’m pretty tired, so we’re going to have to rain-check those plans. Sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s arm tightens marginally around my shoulders, enough for me to feel it but not enough for Steve to see it. “No problem, man. Get some rest.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, great.” He raises his eyebrows conspicuously. “Have a good night, you two.”

I open my mouth to explain, to deny that there’s a ‘you two’ happening here, but Bucky speaks before I can. “Thanks, we will.” Steve’s grin breaks through at that, and he turns quickly and walks down the hall toward the stairs to the common room.

We turn back to Bucky’s door and he leans closer to my ear, making me shiver slightly. “I don’t think I even had plans with Steve.”

I chuckle as we enter his apartment, the door closing behind us. “He was definitely acting weird.”

Bucky unwinds his arm just long enough for us both to settle on the couch, replacing it as soon as the blanket is covering our laps and I have the remote in hand. “Yeah,” he says, looking at me instead of the television. “He’s never been the best wingman.”

I look down at the remote, refusing to ask what he means by ‘wingman’ as I navigate through the menus. “So listen,” I say to change the subject. “Before we begin, I need you to know that this show is absolutely, insanely ridiculous, and also if you say a single word against it, I’ll have no choice but to smother you with your new throw pillow.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good,” I say, wiggling so my back is leaning against his chest a little more comfortably. Bucky makes a small noise at the increased contact, but quickly adjusts his arm in kind. 

We start the show, and even though I don’t know what the hell this thing is between us, I do know that I never want it to end.

******

“I don’t know - what if it ends up raining?”

Bucky takes the umbrella out of my hands and sets it next to where he’s sitting on my bed. “Cleo, it’s one night. If it rains, I’ll buy you a damn umbrella.”

I roll my eyes, turning back to my closet and thumbing through my clothes nervously. Bucky has agreed to help me finish packing for our trip to Culver tomorrow - a choice he likely now regrets. Since our impromptu sparring match and subsequent heart-to-heart a few nights ago, we’ve been nearly inseparable, spending almost every spare moment watching TV, going on walks, reading books aloud to one another, or just talking. I still have no idea what we are, but I know I’m a fan of whatever it is. I like to think Bucky is, too.

I pull out a thick winter coat and hold it up against myself, looking in the mirror to gauge if it still fits. Bucky sighs and stands, walking over to me and gently taking the coat out of my hands and hanging it back up.

“Cleo, you have no reason to be nervous. You’re gonna do great, the committee is gonna love you, and we’re gonna come back to the Tower and celebrate the fact that I’ll be able to call you Dr. Cleo Blake.”

I grin wryly, looking down at my hands. “I do like the sound of that.”

He guides me away from my closet and shuts the door behind me. “Does that mean you’re ready to stop panic-packing random things? Can we close your suitcase?” he asks hopefully.

I bite my lip, thinking over everything I’ve already packed, and Bucky makes a weird sound. I flick my eyes to him and he shakes his head. “Sorry, something caught in my throat.”

I sigh and nod. “Alright, fine. Close the suitcase, Sergeant Barnes.” He repeats the weird sound and moves quickly toward the suitcase, zipping it closed with his back to me. “Do you need some water?”

He shakes his head quickly. “Nah, I’m alright. So. You’ve packed everything you need. I’ve packed everything I need. Does that mean we’re ready?”

“Unless you think I need my snow boots,” I say teasingly.

Bucky pales and places a firm hand on my closed suitcase. “Absolutely not.” I laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Should we see what Sam and Dean are up to since we finished packing early?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. “I actually think I need to do something physical,” I say, blushing when I hear the unintentional double meaning. “I mean, like a run or sparring or whatever. Just to get some of this nervous energy out before I break something accidentally.” 

He sighs. “Cleo, I’m serious - you have no reason to be this nervous.”

I look up at the ceiling. “I know, but… just with everything that’s been going on lately, The Philosopher and then the files and everything we talked about… It’s a lot, and I think I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. I - I’ll just be glad when this defense is over and I have one less thing to worry about.”

Bucky’s face looks conflicted for a moment, wavering on the brink of concern, before settling on a crooked grin. “Yeah, okay. Let’s spar. I’ll even go easy on you.” I roll my eyes, smiling back anyway. As always.

******

We circle each other on the mat for a few seconds until, to my surprise, Bucky makes the first move. I barely dodge the swing of his arm, ducking at the last possible second.

“Gotta be quicker than that, Barnes.” I aim a kick at his side, hoping to throw off his center of gravity, but he catches my foot in the air and pushes hard, sending me stumbling back. I manage to turn on one foot, catching myself before I fall, but I’m breathing a bit hard.

“What were you saying about being quicker?” he snarks, a smirk on his handsome smug face. I roll my eyes, but he robs me of the chance to respond by rushing toward me and feinting with his left arm. I know this move, though - it’s one of his favorites - so I block the hit from the right with my forearm and land an open-palmed strike to the center of his chest with my other hand.

It’s my turn to smirk as he scowls. “Hit,” I say, voice deceptively light.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and I laugh. High on the successful strike, I run at him, and when he ducks to avoid the head blow (just like I knew he would), I take advantage of the momentarily shorter target to leap up onto his shoulders, wrapping my thighs around his neck in the move Natasha taught me. 

I squeeze just tightly enough that his breathing is restricted but not cut off. “Ready to tap out?”

Bucky grabs at my thighs and I hold tighter, ignoring the heat pooling in my center at his touch, but his superstrength is obviously superior and he manages to pry apart my legs. Knowing I’m about to be unseated, I try to push backward off his neck to land on my hands in a backhandspring, but he holds firm. 

He twists me around until we’re face to face, and for the briefest moment we both just stare at one another, breathing hard. His pupils dilate, and I feel a blush rising on my cheeks. He shakes his head and throws me off, allowing me to execute the flip I’d tried a moment before. When I land back on my feet, we freeze - eyeing each other. 

I see an unmistakable heat in Bucky’s eyes, and I’m struck by the realization that I’d be an idiot if I didn’t think whatever’s been going on between us has been building to something. At least, I realize that I hope it’s been building to something. 

He clocks my moment of hesitation and distracts me with a flurry of blows aimed at my head, forcing me to block with my forearms and lose the ability to see what he’s doing. Bucky sweeps at my feet with one leg, and I grab at his moving arm as I fall, hoping to keep myself upright. Instead, though, he’s thrown off balance and we both tumble to the mat, Bucky landing squarely on top of me.

He braces his metal arm against the mat, keeping most of his weight from falling on me - something that would have undoubtedly knocked the wind out of me. I blink up at his face just a few inches above mine, mouth open in a surprised ‘o,’ and a delicious warmth worms its way through my stomach. 

Bucky’s pupils are completely blown, and without even thinking about it I reach a hand up to brush some hair away from his eyes. He shudders at the touch, never once taking his gaze off me.

My eyelashes flutter, and I look up at him from beneath them. “James…” I murmur. Is this really happening? Do I want this to be happening?

His eyes are hooded as he looks down at me. “Cleo?” he whispers.

And before I can think better of it, I lift my head up, closing my eyes and the millimeter’s distance between us at the same time.

The moment our lips touch, I can feel the crystal in my chest warm, its glow bright enough that I can see through my eyelids. Bucky pauses for a moment, completely still, and then he’s moving - kissing me hungrily - like he’s wanted to do this as long as I have. I thread my fingers through his hair and his right hand traces the edge of my torso, landing on my hip and gripping it tightly as if he’s lost at sea and I’m the life preserver. I moan at the press of his fingers, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between my parted lips. 

I think that I could become addicted to this - to the honeyed taste of him, to the firmsoft feel of his lips on mine.

I move my arms to encircle his neck, and he lowers himself until he’s flush with me. I gasp as I feel our bodies press against one another.

Bucky freezes at the sound, spell apparently broken, and jerks up, resting on his knees. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, Cleo, I’m sorry.” He stands and takes several steps back, eyes wide, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.

I shake my head, pushing up to sit on the mat. “Wait, what do you mea- ”

“Goddammit,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Cleo, I never should’ve let that happen. That was a mistake.”

“James, wait, what -” I stand, but he’s stalking toward the door before I’m even on my feet.

“I - I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

I numbly press my fingers to my lips as he disappears down the hall.

******

Bucky practically runs up the stairs, heading for Nat’s room on the floor above his own, his head an absolute mess of thoughts. It isn’t long before the worst ones take control.

I can’t believe she kissed me.

I can’t believe I let her kiss me.

That was the best kiss of my fucking life.

That kiss never should have happened.

It almost felt like she lo-

I took advantage of her when she was vulnerable.

I’m a horrible person.

I’m a horrible person.

I’m a horrible person.

Nat opens her door with a bewildered expression, quickly surveying the agitated man standing before her.

“I’m a horrible person,” he says, eyes wide and wild. 

Her eyes narrow instantly. “What did you do to her?”

“I - I’m the worst, Nat. I’m the worst person on the planet. Maybe on all the other planets, too.”

“What did you do to her, Barnes?” she repeats, voice a growl.

“I fucking kissed her.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up, mouth dropping open, before a wide smile creeps over her face. “Jesus, Barnes, you had me going there for a second. It’s about damn time.” She takes a step back and pulls him into her apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“No, you don’t understand - before… before that, we were sparring because she was feeling overwhelmed. Y’know, the files and her stepdad and The Philosopher and all of that.” Nat stares at him, a blank expression on her face. “So she was really vulnerable, with everything that happened getting brought up, and I took advantage of her emotional state. I’m the worst.” He sits down on one of Nat’s chairs, braces his elbows on his knees, and drops his face into his hands.

“Did you force her to kiss you?”

He whips his head up, looking at her like she’s gone crazy. “Jesus, Natasha, of course not. She… she kissed me first.”

“Was she upset?”

His eyebrows knit together. “No, she…” he blushes. “She definitely didn’t seem upset.”

Natasha punches his arm - hard. “Then what makes you think you took advantage of her, you idiot? She’s a consenting adult who made the first move. Christ, men are stupid.”

Bucky blanches, rubbing his arm absently even though it doesn’t really hurt. “You - you don’t think I’m a horrible person?”

Nat rolls her eyes. “No, but I do think you’re a dumbass.”

“I just thought she’d definitely regret it, and probably hate me forever. Why - why would she want to kiss me, if she wasn’t feeling emotional, or whatever?”

Nat gives him a flat look and holds up a hand as if to say see? “I rest my case. Dumb. Ass. Maybe she’s nuts - don’t ask me what she sees in you, because I certainly don’t get it.” He huffs a laugh in spite of himself. “But you’re an idiot if you haven’t figured out by now that she’s got it bad for you.”

Bucky blanches. “She does?”

“Christ, Barnes, do I have to spell it out? She spends all her free time with you, she talks about you constantly, and her crystal lights up like a damn beacon anytime you enter the room.”

He blinks. “I… I had no idea.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

“What do I do now?”

“Well, since you evidently ran out of there without explaining yourself - due to the aforementioned dumbassery - you should probably start with an apology and some serious groveling.”

Bucky nods. “Okay. Apology and groveling. I can do that.” He stands and charges to the door before turning back. “Thanks, Nat.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No problem, I’ve always dreamed of being a relationship counselor.”

He grins in spite of her obvious sarcasm and runs toward the gym. When he gets there, though, a set of hand wraps are laying in the center of the mat and Cleo is nowhere to be found. He shakes his head and races to his own hall - the hall he shares with her. When he arrives at Cleo’s door, he takes a few steadying breaths and knocks. He waits a few moments - nothing. Bucky knocks again - still nothing. He puts an ear to the door, but doesn’t hear any sound. 

“Cleo? It’s Bucky. I - I know I fucked up, if you’ll just let me explain what happened…” Nothing.

Bucky looks to the ceiling. “JARVIS? Can you tell me where Cleo is?”

If it’s even possible, the AI sounds almost angry when he replies. “Miss Blake has taken the Quinjet and left.”

Shit. “Do you know where she went?”

“I believe she is on her way to Culver University, sir.”

[k-y-g]

I used to be strongest at night,

until you took from me.

now I'm lost in endless shadow,

a personal hell you created and abandoned me in.

look at me.

suffocating as tar coats my throat, obsidian and insidious

hands clawing over the raw, gaping cavity of my rib cage

a wall of tears fall from petrified eyes perpetually forced open against grit and hurricanes

as realisation and horror dawns again and again and again.

and all I can do is remember.

my final breath in is agony, broken shards of shattered mirrors slicing my lungs

and my scream is a cough, blood and acid falling from my ulcerated mouth

the empty laugh of a thankless god echoes as my heart finally stops.

just for it to begin again. and again. and again.

flashbacks. // k-y-g

[it-never-gets-better]

NO ONE GETS IT. NO ONE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS LIVING IN THIS BODY.

[earthangelrage]

I’ve been wanting to paint this in the style of Tracey Emin for years and I finally drew it on my iPad on procreate. I can’t wait until I’m able to paint this on a canvas. This is about how I’ve only ever felt pretty while having my trauma re-enacted through rough and degrading sex with a partner who did not give a fuck about my well-being. I broke my own heart each time that I recreated my sexual abuse but I also laid it out on a silver platter for the predator to devour it as well. This was a partnered effort that made me feel at home during the act and torn with shame and self disgust afterwards. This piece is the visual representation of sex used as self harm. I know that many victims of csa/sa who have acted out in both sexual and self destructive ways because of what we suffered before. I make this art for many survivors who can relate but also for the survivors who have too much shame to speak out about it. The world has shunned us enough for something that was out of our control so please have compassion and grace towards yourself. Love, Grace <3

[uhhhj13iguess]

Could you write a Peter Parker story in witch reader has trauma from r4pe from past and while they were having a movie night a scene from movie triggered the memory of it, but Peter comforts them and it's just full of fluff? I would really appreciate it.

let me be near you

peter parker x gn!reader

wc: 0.9k

cw: references to SA scene playing out on tv, reader has flashbacks and a panic attack, but nothing is talked about in detail. peter is a sweetheart the entire time

masterlist

sorry this took so long, i rewrote it like a million times lol. thank you for writing me a request, i loved it! everyone please send more!!

peter immediately felt your energy shift.

he looked down to see you staring into the distance, eyes wondering and watery. he noticed as you shrank smaller, hands pulled to your chest as you unconsciously picked at your nail beds, the skin raw and bloody from the action.

he reached out for your hands without a second thought. "hey,"

you twitched slightly, his touch bringing you back to the present as you looked up at him, staccato inhales raking your chest.

peter had never seen you like this. his heart broke as your eyes darted off again, your body stiffening as you forced yourself to look back at the screen. you couldn't do this right now, not in front of peter.

as the scene played out, a heavy sense of dread blanketed your senses, a suffocating weight on your chest as you couldn't stop your mind from wandering. you pleaded, downright bargaining with your brain as the flashbacks forced their way to the forefront, violent images flooding your thoughts. you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, doing what you could to steady your breathing.

peter brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. "hey, are you alright?"

you nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to disappear and not embarrass yourself further. you stared back at the TV, jaw clenched tight, "yeah, fine."

just be normal.

you're right here. it's just a show. you're safe.

you flinched as peter spoke your name, your vision beginning to tunnel. you felt your heart rate pick up, increasing exponentially until you were convinced it was going to burst out of your chest. you stood quickly, the action dropping your stomach and sending a wave of impending doom throughout your entire body. your knees buckled, and peter's hands flew up to stabilize you.

"'m fine," you slurred out. with shaky steps, you gathered all your strength to head down the hall, incoherently mumbling about 'needing to go to the bathroom quick'. peter watched you run out of sight and a rock formed in his stomach.

as he stood to follow you, a scream from the TV caught his attention.

"no, please! stop!" the woman's voice burned in his ears. he turned towards the criminal minds episode on the screen.

peter watched intently as the scene played out before him. with each act of violence, each scream, he slowly put the pieces together, and a range of emotions flooded his system.

he was horrified. when you'd been flipping through channels earlier with him, neither of you expected this would be what would come on. he felt uneasy himself, but your response was different. it was reactionary, visceral in nature. and as he put together why, he felt scared like he'd never been before.

he was heartbroken, the thought of you having been hurt so badly. the pain in his chest was physical as he watched the assault unfold on the screen and pictured you. how scared you must have felt. how hurt you must have been.

he was angrier than he'd ever been before. peter saw red as he thought about it, yearning for blood on his hands from whoever had done this to you. he hadn't felt this way since uncle ben.

peter shook himself out of it, hearing the bathroom door shut. he bounded down the hall and called out your name, a crack in his voice as he choked down a sob. he reached the door, softly knocking against the wood.

"sweetheart? can i come in?" peter was met with sniffles, and the pain in his chest radiated.

"honey, please. we don't have to talk, just... please. let me be near you," he pleaded.

on the other side, you let out a heavy sigh, crawling out from the ball you'd formed on the bathroom floor. standing with all your strength, you didn't dare look at yourself in the mirror as you reached for the handle. you pulled slowly, meeting peter's gaze with a pit of shame in your stomach.

his shoulders relaxed as soon as he had you in his sight again. "hey, honey."

you looked down at your feet. "i'm sorry, that was a lot over nothing."

peter took a step towards you, a cautious hand reaching out to graze your arm. "hey,"

you looked up to meet his eyes again. "none of that."

you took a deep breath, your nervous system beginning to slow down again in peter's presence. you slowly moved forward and looped your arms around his waist loosely, a limp hug all you had in you as a response. he reciprocated it immediately.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shook your head against his chest. "not right now."

peter nodded and pulled back from the hug, a hand slipping down to intertwine his fingers with yours. "why don't we go lie in bed, bug?"

you whispered out a soft 'okay' as you followed him to the bedroom, climbing into the bed and clinging to peter's side tightly. he wrapped you in his arms, peppering your face in light kisses that tickled your skin. he felt himself relax as he heard your soft laugh, and he vowed to himself he'd do anything it took to keep you safe and happy.

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Thirty Two: The Intervention, or Righting Some Wrongs

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: Second-to-last chapter, my loves 🥲 Can you believe it?? I just started working on my next project, though, and it's in the same universe as this one! So don't fret, you'll see our Cleo and Bucky again ❤️

Summary: Cleo and Bucky tie up a loose end and start to learn what life looks like after... everything.

Chapter Directory

Avengers minus Thor (only use when 🔨 off-planet or to talk shit about Loki)

Katniss: Where is everybody?

Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist: I’m in the lab with the doc

Giant Green Rage Monster: We’re looking over some of the tech from the sub, trying to figure out how Sapros got his powers.

Katniss: Hard pass ✋

Katniss: Anyone else?

Nat TonyifyouchangemynameagainIsweartogod Romanov: I’m in the gym practicing my knife-throwing.

Nat TonyifyouchangemynameagainIsweartogod Romanov: I could use a moving target if you want to join me.

Katniss: You know, we used to be fun 😞

Katniss: Clucky? What are y’all up to?

Lite Brite: What in the flying fuck is a Clucky?

Katniss: It’s your couple name - Cleo + Bucky = Clucky 👩‍❤️‍👨

Lite Brite: Kill it with fire.

Katniss: Listen, I don’t make the rules 🤷

Loverboy: Where are you, Barton?

Katniss: … I don’t think I want to hang out anymore

Katniss: Very busy. Lots to do.

Loverboy: I’m asking for a completely non-violent reason.

Katniss: Nope. Byeeeee 👋

Lite Brite: I think you should be wearing significantly less clothing.

Lite Brite: OMG NO NO NO

Lite Brite: THIS WAS THE WRONG CHAT

Lite Brite: NOBODY READ THAT

Lite Brite: BRB changing my name and moving to Mozambique

Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist: 🤮

Katniss: 🤮

Nat TonyifyouchangemynameagainIsweartogod Romanov: Barf.

Loverboy: 😏

Captain Underpants: I’m going to ask Maria to schedule a training about workplace boundaries. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

******

The Quinjet touches down in an abandoned parking lot on the outskirts of my hometown, and Bucky reaches out to grab my hand, stilling my nervously fiddling fingers. “We can turn around and go home right now,” he says.

I shake my head. “No. I have to do this.”

Natasha gives me a feral grin. “Good, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Nat,” I say, eyeing the plethora of weapons on her belt. “Do you really need that many knives?”

She shrugs. “I like to be prepared for any possible outcome.”

Clint grins and hefts the quiver full of various tricked-out arrows. “Twinsies.”

“Are you forgetting that you’re only here for backup?” I say, looking at them pointedly.

Steve pats my arm with a gentle smile on his face. “I think this is how they cope with their anger,” he says, nodding to our friends. “But don’t worry, we know the mission - you and Buck take the lead.”

Tony sighs, chewing on a piece of an apple. “I still think you should let me go the corporate espionage route and financially ruin him. Takes a bit longer, but the fallout is so satisfying.”

Bucky comes up behind me and takes my hand, squeezing it once in a comforting gesture. I had been reluctant to share any of the information he and Nat had found on my stepfather with the rest of the team, but after the submarine - after getting Bucky back and finding out about my dad… Well, I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf. I’m trying to share more, much to my therapist’s delight. It’s disgusting and horrible, but also kind of great.

I survey my assembled friends, none of them besides Bucky and I necessary for the mission, but all of them here for me - with me - just the same. I give them a grateful smile. “We all know I’m shit at mushy stuff, but… thanks, guys.”

Clint mimes wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh my god, that was so beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and Nat punches him in the shoulder. “You ready for this?” she asks me.

I tap my glasses, helmet extending into place over my head to match the suit I’m already wearing. “As I’ll ever be.”

Bucky and I draw more than a few stares as we walk up the street of gaudy McMansions leading to my mother and Robert’s house. He’s quite the sexy intimidating sight, in the black tactical suit that leaves his metal arm on full display. And though I absolutely love it, the Sirensuit isn’t exactly subtle, either.

“Ten bucks says we’re on a gossip blog within the next hour.”

I huff a laugh, knowing he’s trying to distract me from our task. “A whole hour? I say no more than thirty minutes.”

His eyes crinkle in my favorite version of his smile - the one that tells me how much he adores me - and he shrugs a shoulder. “Fair enough.”

As we near my parents’ front door, my crystal starts to throb. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. 

“We can turn back any time,” Bucky reminds me, and I open my eyes and nod.

“I know,” I say. “It’s fine. I’m ready.”

My mother’s car is absent from the driveway, just as we’d planned, so when I ring the doorbell, I know the approaching footsteps are Robert’s.

“Wha- Cleo? Is that you? And Sergeant - what are you doing here?”

I tap my glasses again, helmet retracting. I’d wanted to wear it as an intimidating shield, I suppose, but here - facing him - I decide that I want him to have to look me in the eye. “We’re here for something that is long overdue, Robert.” I stride past him into the house, not waiting for an invitation, and Bucky follows behind me.

Standing in the middle of the foyer, I pull out the device Tony gave me and click the button. Holographic versions of the files Bucky and Nat assembled blink to life in the air between Robert and I, and I watch the blood drain from his face.

“What the hell is this, Cleo?” he asks, clearly aiming for anger but sounding more like a scared little boy.

I casually flick through the pages, showing him the sheer quantity of data we have at hand. “This is a lot of things,” I say, voice deceptively light. “The police might call it evidence.” He blanches, but I continue. “My team might call it a reason to Avenge.” Pages fly by, and I watch the reflection of the collected information flicker in Robert’s wide, fearful eyes. “You might call it a rather large skeleton in your closet. But me,” I say, spreading my fingers to zoom in on a photo from my childhood. “I call it the beginning of a story.”

With a wave of my hand, the hologram disappears, and I return the device to my pocket. “And today, Robert, we’ve reached the ending.”

His fearful eyes dart between Bucky and I, but Bucky remains (as we discussed) standing in front of the door with folded arms, backup if I need it but otherwise simply a blockade. A very, very angry blockade.

I lift my hands, levitating off the ground, and Robert shrinks before me, a shadow of the man who once brought me so much pain. Reaching one hand forward, I squeeze my fingers, Robert’s airway constricting as I do, and he scrabbles at his throat with his own hands, clawing at empty air. Bucky says nothing, and as Robert’s face turns a deep red, I know he would remain stoically silent and allow me to play this thing through to the end, if that's what I wanted. Robert’s face turns purple now, and I imagine he’s starting to see spots in his vision. His pants darken and I realize he’s wet himself in fear. All the while, Bucky stands at my back, allowing me to choose - always allowing me to choose.

After one more moment to take in the scene before me, I wave my hands and Robert inhales a gasp of air, falling to the floor as tears leak from the corners of his eyes. My feet gently touch down on the hardwood of the foyer, and as Robert wimpers on the floor, I pull a letter out of my pocket and arrange it carefully on the key table. My mother’s name is written on the envelope.

I take a step toward Robert and he scrambles backward in an awkward crab-crawl, eyes wide in terror. My hands haven’t touched him once - a courtesy he did not extend to me - and yet he still cowers in fear before me. My face is grim as I look down at him. “You have no power over me anymore, Robert, and you never will again.”

Sirens wail in the distance as Bucky and I exit the house, hand in hand, leaving the front door wide open. The police can close it when they’re finished.

******

As always, Meg answers on the first ring. “Cleo? How’d it go?”

I hope she can sense my grin through the phone. “It was everything, Meggie. I finally feel like I have closure, whatever the hell that is.”

She sighs, relieved, and sounds much less tense when she speaks again. “Did… did you take him out?”

I laugh, loud and unrestrained, and she makes a little sound of offense. “You don’t have to speak in code, weirdo. You have a secure phone now, remember?”

“Alright, then, did you kill the bastard?”

I laugh again at her matter-of-fact tone. “No, I didn’t.”

“But whyyyyy?” Meg whines. 

“He isn’t worth it. I - I know what it feels like, now, to do that,” I say, picking at my fingernail. “And he’s not worth the pain it would cause me. Leaving him to rot in prison is enough.”

She sighs. “God, when did you become so damn reasonable?”

“If it helps, I scared the piss out of him. Literally.”

“Now we’re talking,” she says, and I really can sense her grin through the phone. “Tell me everything.”

******

Natasha Romanov has added you to a new group chat 💬

Intervention

Romanov: This is an intervention.

Barton: We love Clucky - really we do 🙏

Barton: But enough is enough 🛑

Rogers: I told you I didn’t want to be a part of this. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

Stark: Wait, what’s happening?

Romanov: We’re holding an intervention to tell Cleo and Bucky to stop eye-fucking each other in public places.

Stark: Oh hell yeah, count me in. Those two are gross.

Stark: I do miss the nicknames, though. You have no panache, Romanov.

Blake: Cleo can’t come to the phone right now because she’s changed her name and moved to Mozambique. Leave a message at the beep. BEEEEEEP.

Barnes: This is ridiculous, you guys. We’re not that bad.

Banner: … it has been kind of a lot

Blake: Et tu, Bruce?

Stark: What happened to Mozambique?

Blake: 😑

Barnes: Mind your own business and let us be happy.

Barton: I would, but now I can’t enter the gym without having flashbacks of you two on the weight bench 🤮

Rogers: Maria says the MANDATORY workplace boundary training is going to be next Thursday at 2:00 PM. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

Rogers: Also, did someone clean the weight bench? Sincerely, Steve Rogers

******

“Now I know where you get it from,” Bucky says.

“Hm?” I look up from the stack of papers to see him setting an impossibly heavy box of books down next to me.

“Your book hoarding.”

I huff a small laugh, smiling up at him. “Why do you think I fell in love with a supersoldier? Who else is going to carry all my books for me?”

He rolls his eyes but bends down to kiss me, distracting me for just a few moments. Or minutes.

Finally, I pull back, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from chasing my lips with his own. “Down, boy. I have a lot of work to do.”

Bucky crosses his arms. “You’re the only one setting a deadline.”

I sigh. “I know, but if I keep putting it off, I’m afraid I’ll chicken out and leave this stuff in storage forever.”

His eyes soften. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll stop distracting you.” He sits down in a chair on the opposite side of the desk and pulls a stack of papers toward himself. “Where do we start?”

I look up at him again, eyebrows knit. “What do you mean, where do we start?”

Bucky grins crookedly. “Well, I know I’m not as smart as you, but I figure four hands are still better than two. Put me to work, Dr. Blake.”

Now I’m the one who causes the distraction, leaning across the desk to plant a grateful kiss on his lips. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

In an effort to keep me on their good side, given the inevitable blowback from the media surrounding the employment of a HYDRA operative as a tenured professor, Culver decided to waive the requirement that I present my thesis to a committee in order to graduate. They accepted the final draft of the written copy immediately, and I had my degree by the end of the day - no ceremony required. I’m mostly relieved that I didn’t have to jump through that particular hoop, but part of me is still a little disappointed. I suppose it doesn’t really matter in the end, though, as I’ve committed to remaining an Avenger for the foreseeable future.

I sigh, looking at Bucky. “I don’t really know where to start, to be honest. I’ve just been reading through everything and trying to organize it chronologically, for lack of a better system.”

He nods, thumbing through the stack of papers in front of him. “What do you want to do with everything once it's organized?”

I frown. “I hadn’t really gotten that far.”

“Maybe figuring that out will help you decide how to move forward.”

I cast my eyes around the room Tony is letting me use to store my father’s research. It’s full to the brim, and it’s absolutely overwhelming. “I just… If I make a decision about what I’m going to do with his things, it’s like I’m…” I rub at my eyes. “It’s like I’m making it real, that he’s gone.”

Bucky nods, understanding in his gaze. “Yeah, I get that. But Cleo, you have to give yourself permission to not be ready yet. It isn’t going anywhere, and you have a whole bunch of people in your corner willing to help you when the time is right.”

I reach across the table and take his left hand, running a thumb over his metal fingers absently. “Now you sound like Dr. Benally.”

He smiles. “Well, she’s a smart woman. And generally speaking, if your therapist tells you something, it means it’s a good idea.”

I level a flat gaze at him. “Oh, so you listen to everything Dr. Raynor tells you?”

“Uh,” he says, freezing. “On second thought, there’s no time like the present.” He grabs the stack of papers again and starts reading them with gusto.

I giggle and push back from the desk. “I’m teasing. You - you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready, just yet.”

Bucky stands and takes two large steps to reach me, pressing a tender kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, and he laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders to lead me out of the room.

“Y’know, since you aren’t busy anymore, I had some ideas for how we could fill the time,” he says, raising an eyebrow at me.

Heat pools in my belly instantly at his words alone, and I pick up the pace. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You might be smarter than me, Sergeant Barnes.”

He groans, and we all but sprint to his apartment. 

I really could get used to this.