#and it’d hit her so hard bc he barely cries and the fact that there was a point where nimbus and onyx almost killed her on sight

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

just watched One Day on netflix….not okay 😭😭 made me think of demonrry and angel 😭😭😭

DONT!!!!!!!! SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!

[1kook]

distractions

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

summary: “Soft.” / “No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.” tags: gamer kook, soft bf jeon, extensive knowledge of the MCU (Mario Cinematic Universe) warnings: nsfw; mostly tit play, dry humping, slight praise, jizzing in ur pants like ur fifteen again wc: 3k barely 

when u have 34827 other fics to finish but ur brain hyper focuses on this image at 1 in the morning. not proofread bc idk ppl 

ty for all the nice comments on skirt chasers btw<333

There were a lot of things about Jungkook that you didn’t learn until you were official. Like the fact he rarely matches his socks unless they’re cool socks. Or that he prefers his pancakes pre-drizzled with syrup. Not necessarily bad things, just aspects the general public wouldn’t normally see. In fact, the worst “trait” you’ve learned about Jungkook in the past year is how easily distracted he can get. Nothing crazy, just tiny actions, like forgetting to eat for three hours because he refuses to leave his Wii until he can beat the guys in three rounds of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate in the Mushroom Kingdom stage. Strangely specific, but it’s Jungkook and you’ve long since learned he’s an enigma.

Times like now, when you creep up behind him as he continues screeching into his headset, voice cracking every now and then in that adorable way it does when he’s overwhelmed. You are no stranger to Jungkook’s apartment, having visited more times than you can count, and even dropping by and doing a little dusting while he was on tour. However, you’re surprised you can see the back of his coconut hair from the low backing of his new computer chair. He’d told you he recently threw away his big leather, super villain gaming chair because it’d started to tear, but it was a fact you hadn’t really paid much attention to.

Now, however, you’re feeling a little happy he did, because it means you can slide your palms around his shoulders in somewhat of a back hug. It’s way better than having to walk all the way in front of him, and you bite down on a grin when he mutters the softest “hi, baby.”

“Which stage are we battling on today?” You murmur, pinching the tip of his mic to twist it away. Faintly, you can hear Taehyung’s voice shout a greeting your way.

Another button smash of his remote, hands enveloping the tiny device. “Wii Fit Studio with Wario,” he replies, eyes flickering across the screen like his life depends on it. You snort.

“I thought you hated Wario,” you point out, and move with him when he jumps after being shot off the screen.

He looks at you for the first time as he waits for his character to respawn. “Changed my mind. He’s just misunderstood. Listen to my theory, babe,” he starts, and you let go of him because you have the back of a ninety year old war veteran and can only hunch over for so long. You take up a very bodyguard-esque position behind him, watching him play and gently pressing your thumbs into his shoulders. “Imagine this. You’re a kid trying to have fun and this other kid who looks exactly like you but better is somehow also cooler than you.”

You hum, letting go of his shoulders to toy with his hair. You pull it into a makeshift ponytail and giggle, not that Jungkook minds, too immersed in his game and his sudden loving Wario speech to care. “Then, you get older and this same dude is still getting all the credit for being exactly like you. On top of that, his little brother is doing the same to your little brother! I’d be so pissed.”

You let his hair drop, and then quickly brush the strands away from his face when he whines. “Uh huh. But theoretically speaking, aren’t you the Mario of your little universe?” Jungkook is silent. “If we’re going by your little story, I hardly doubt there’s another Jeon doing better than you,” you point out.

Jungkook’s Wario gets blown off the screen for the last time, and he’s left blankly staring at the screen. You poke his neck. “I don’t wish to discuss this further,” he says rather matter of factly. You laugh, shaking him and his seat. “Baby, why would you say that!” He cries.

You smile, flicking the switch on his headset before pushing it off his head. Jungkook moans again, head lolling back to glare up at you. “I finally come to terms with the fact that Mario is the true asshole, just to find out I’m Mario? Fucking absurd.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, fingers dancing down the stretched column of his neck. “Listen, no one told you to go out and create an entire deep backstory for the Mario Cinematic Universe.”

He scoffs, eyes fluttering shut as he continues basking in your soft caresses. “The MCU,” he chuckles under his breath. On screen, Taehyung is still fighting with whoever else they were playing with tonight, a little Isabelle and Dark Samus dancing across the screen.

Meanwhile, you’re still absentmindedly running your fingertips along Jungkook’s skin. For a second, you think he’s asleep by the deepening of his breaths, his body so soft and relaxed beneath your touch, but then he gets one of those weird twitches of his, and pushes his head between your breasts.

“Ah,” he sighs, eyes still shut. “Soft.”

“No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.”

The little shit snuggles closer at your words. “My favorite place in the world,” he croons, and you pinch his neck for his stupidity. “Tell me when they’re done,” he mumbles, sounding as if he’s actually gonna fall asleep.

You relent, continuing your gentle massaging of the muscles in his neck as you tune into the match on screen. You’re not exactly sure which one Taehyung is, but your gut tells you he’s probably playing as Isabelle, so you root for her. You’re weirdly into it, jumping every time a good spar happens.

By the time the match ends (literally only like 4 minutes later) and you check on your boyfriend, he’s snuggled his way between the valley of your breasts, his cute nose poking out from between. “Oh my god,” you sigh, having to take a momentary pause to collect yourself from the sight.

Jungkook giggles.

“Well. Taehyung’s done,” you inform him, and he hums though he doesn’t really seem to care about Smash anymore. His hands go slack around his remote, crawling up to dwarf yours.

He sighs, sounding so happy with himself. “Baby, you’re so soft,” he hums, and you try desperately, and you mean desperately, to ignore the sudden drop of his voice, his hands ever so gently tangling with yours.

You try to hit him with the facts, because you know where this will go if you don’t. “Well, breasts are made up of mostly fatty tissue, and lobes for producing milk,” you inform him.

Contrary to your goal, the handsome smile that envelopes his face has you fighting down the curl in your stomach. You can never win.

“You know I love when you talk anatomical to me,” he purrs, and it takes everything in you to not punch him straight in those pearly whites.

You don’t have enough time to respond, too caught up in a mental pep talk to re-evaluate what your body considered attractive. Jungkook’s corny jokes should definitely not be high on the list, but your rock hard nipples said otherwise. “So, you gonna let me suck on them or what?”

“I hate you,” you groan, reaching over to completely unplug Jungkook’s headset because you were absolutely terrified of creating an accidental porno with your celebrity boyfriend.

Jungkook chuckles. “No you don’t,” he teased, finally wiggling his way away from you to whirl his seat around. “Could feel your nip nops pressing into my forehead. No bra today? She’s bold.”

“She’s bold and embarrassed that her boyfriend calls them nip nops,” you sigh, climbing into his lap. His remote presses hard against your thigh, and you yelp before he tugs it out and throws it on the desk behind him. Vaguely, you register the screen lighting up behind Jungkook, but then he’s nudging your shirt upwards.

He’s barely brushed his hands against you, but you’re already shivering and squirming in his lap. “Relax for me, baby,” he assures you, a new depth slowly creeping around his words. “Gonna take care of you, alright?”

You nod, breath already caught in your throat just from the way he looks at you. He flashes you another smile, bunny teeth slightly pressed against his lower lip, before he’s pushing your shirt above your chest, and marveling at your boobs.

You don’t miss the way his gaze becomes glossy, eyes hyper focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Just as you’re about to urge him to do something, he’s reaching up to brush his thumb around your nipple. “Oh,” you blurt out, the skin around your nipple rising with goosebumps.

Jungkook lets out a soft huff of air at your reaction. “So sensitive. Bet I could make you come just by touching your tits, baby.”

You scoff, choking back another sound when he does the same to the other nipple. “I wanna say I doubt it, but I feel like you’ll prove me wrong,” you retort.

At this, Jungkook smirks. “Oh, so now it’s an expectation?” He smiles, and it’s the last angelic side of him you see before he’s ducking down and latching his supple lips around your breast.

Immediately, your back arches forward, hands scrambling to grip onto his shoulders as he licks across your breast. “J-Jeon, wait—“ you cry, body shaking at the way his tongue dances around your nipple.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, tugging and twisting it as he flicks his tongue back and forth, knocking it against the hard pebble. You moan, and almost choke when he pulls away with a lewd pop.

His lips are glossy from his own saliva, red from the friction. He’s looking at your glistening breast like a starved man, thumb returning to glide over his own messy artwork. “So pretty,” he hums, Puckering his lips to blow a soft tuft of air against it. You shiver. “Aren’t you the softest little thing,” he says, one hand falling to your waist and gently easing you closer to his crotch. His sweatpants do nothing to conceal how he’s feeling.

You hate to admit how your insides had turned into a Fruit Gusher the second he started sucking on your boob, and now that you think of, you'd be absolutely embarrassed if you did come from just this.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Jungkook meets your gaze. “I fucking knew it,” he says, slightly out of breath. You furrow your eyebrows, to which he pointedly raises his and gestures to his crotch. “You started pressing down so hard on me the second I got my mouth on you,” he brags, and as if to punctuate his statement, grinds his hips upward into you. “Did sucking your titty make you that wet, doll?”

Your cheeks flush at his words. Belatedly, you nod, your eyes falling to his lips that quirk up into a smile. “Oh, you’re just so desperate to be touched, aren’t you?” He continues, and then reaches up to pinch your nipple between two rough fingers.

You gasp, body arching into him. The pain is new, but definitely welcomed. “Yes,” you cry out, hand reaching out to grapple around his wrist. Though you try to tug it away, it feels disgustingly good and you know he knows, which is why he gives it a slight tug.

Finally, when he lets go of you, he doesn’t hesitate to lower himself down by your other, ignored breast. “I wanna see you cream your shorts, okay? So I’m gonna suck your other titty until you’re near tears, baby,” he states, before giving you a soft push of his hips.

“Please, be gentle,” you choke out, words stuck the moment he wraps his lips around you. This time, he’s ruthless with his tongue. He traces it all over, tonguing your nipple like a lollipop. It feels nice, the wet caress, that you don’t see that bite coming at all. You moan, body unconsciously pushing away from him in surprise.

“Nuh uh,” Jungkook tuts, strong arms wrapping around your lower back to bring you back into his embraces. This closer position has your core pressing down directly over his dick, and the sudden double stimulation has your vision momentarily going white. “Gonna give you a pretty little bite right under your tit, doll,” he announces, and in a scary act of trust, presses his fingers into your spine until you’re staring at the ceiling, the only thing supporting you his strong arms. He nudged your breast with his nose until he finds the perfect spot to place his impromptu hickey.

It’s right against the bottom curve, where your skin folds over, that he settles on. “Need you to to sit nice and still for me. You can do that, right baby?” Jungkook says, big doe eyes looking up at you. You nod your head quickly.

His teeth are cold, unlike the rest of his mouth. “Jungkook!” You moan, toes curling and thighs attempting to clamp shit. They hit the outside of the chair instead, slightly squeezing around his thin waist. “You’re s-so good to me,” you wail, pushing down into his covered cock for friction.

As much as you wanted to act like this wouldn’t affect you, your body is no liar. Fingers tangled in his long curls, you find yourself gently rutting against him. Much to your surprise, this makes him break away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting his mouth to your chest. You mourn when it finally breaks.

“Told you to stay still, doll,” Jungkook warns, one set of long fingers sprawling on the small of your back as the other reaches up. “You had all the time in the world to work yourself on me, but you wanna choose now?” He gently reprimands you, twisting your nipple between two pinched fingers. You mewl. “Promise you’ll be good?”

“I can’t,” you whine, desperation seeping into your voice as your traitorous hips jolt forward again. You nearly fall onto him when a particular nudge of his cock over your core feels just right. “Want your cock so bad,” you wail, throwing all hesitation out the window as you begin full on humping yourself against his crotch.

Jungkook sighs, trying to act annoyed with you but the twitch of his cock beneath you cannot lie. “Well I’m not done having fun with you,” he says, though the way his words are tinged with complaints, you can tell he’s trying hard not to pout. Nonetheless, he latches his mouth around your breast again, and you nearly faint when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

“Jeon,” you cry, looking down with probably the world’s worst quadruple chin only to catch him absolutely savoring your titty. He’s got his eyes closed, pink tongue licking across every inch he can get. His arms are wrapped around the smallest part of your waist like he can’t possibly fathom letting you go. When he moans, a whole new found wetness coats your walls. You choke on a sob, “I-I love you, Jungkook.”

You can feel a smirk pressed around your breast. It’s this moment when Jungkook finally gives up on his little quest to tame you, hips bucking up to meet your offbeat grinds against him. He pulls off your breast with another wet pop, though he’s slightly lower than you from how consumed he was when sucking you tits. He has to make a little effort to stretch his neck up to look at you, and even then it’s over the top of his nose that he gazes at you.

His lips pucker slightly, and the next time you grind down onto him has them brushing against your lower lip. “That’s it,” he croons, admiring the different expressions that contort your face as you become closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come all over your pretty panties for me, baby,” he encourages, sucking your lower lip between his.

His mouth had been so dangerous to you today, licking and sucking in all the right spots, but nothing has ever felt as right as having it on yours. “I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, fingers knitting themselves in his hair.

“Don’t be,” he comforts, gripping your hips and swiveling you in a circular motion. “Next time you’ll do better, won’t you?”

You nod, head bouncing like a bobble head. He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your thighs twitch. “I was gone for so long,” he rambles, hips picking up their pace the second he hears your breath hitch in your throat. “Didn’t think you’d become so sensitive and needy.”

A faint smile passes through your lips, and your toes curl and your belly tightens in that delicious way it does right before orgasm. Another grind against Jungkook, and he sighs “I love you,” as you cream your pants like a dweeby high schooler being touched for the first time.

Jungkook’s gentle movements halt the moment he sees that orgasmic face overtake you, pressing soft smooches all over the bottom half of your face, peppering your lips with them, until your fingers finally loosen in his hair.

“Fuck, I’m embarrassed,” you huff out, feeling gross and sticky in all the worst spots. Jungkook chuckles, and you can still feel his hard cock nudging the insides of your thighs.

“Nah,” he says. “It’ll make it easier for me to slide in.”

Even in your post orgasmic state, his words have a brand new coil of heat revving up. God, you were whipped for him. “Bed?” You ask, and he nods as you clamber off his lap, tugging down your shirt.

Immediately, he whirls around and catches sight of his abandon Smash game. “Huh.” He says, and you already feel the distraction staple itself into his mind. “Have you ever noticed how Dark Pit—“

You cut him off, gliding your hands around his neck and slowly craning it back until you can give him a tiny Spider-Man kiss. “If you make me cum a second time I promise I’ll listen to whatever theory you have about him,” you purr, punctuating your words with a tiny smooch.

The screen is off in record time.

[snarkwrites]

wakeup | greg sanders | csi vegas | mature.

Notes:

Okay, so... This fits into the same universe as the fic I’m currently writing ( trouble ) but.. You do not have to read it for it to make a lot of sense? I mean it’s basically just wake up sex...

Listen, I needed to write this. I had to get it out. I had to.

Prompts Used:

None, actually. This is just a random scene that came to mind.

Other Parts

( ONE ) - ONLY LINKING TO THE FIRST CHAPTER BC i THINK I LINKED TO THE OTHER PARTS THROUGHOUT.

Warnings:

Uhh. This content is not meant for minors. Absolutely not meant for minors. So if you’re under 18+ click away now. If you don’t like smut, you’re not going to like this. Facts. If you continue to read, despite knowing all of this ahead of time, this is now your problem. I warned you right here in black and white.

If you’re sticking around, first of all yayyyy!, second, these are some things you need to look out for or be aware of: unprotected sex / body fluids, biting/sucking. that’s pretty much it.

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave​ 

@twistnet​ 

                                                WAKEUP,

Sunlight filtered in through the blinds covering his bedroom window. For a few seconds, Greg leaned in the doorway to the room, dragging thick digits through spiky hair, just watching her sleep. The blanket was barely covering her body and when she rolled over onto her side, cuddling herself against his pillow with an arm over it, the blanket slipped to the floor as it gave up the fight. The blanket’s absence revealed crimson colored cotton and Greg had to work to swallow the lump in his throat as it built.

,, I am… The very definition of a lucky bastard.” the thought came just as he started to really strain against his jeans. He bent, pulling off his Vans and leaving them by the bedroom door. He pulled off his socks next. Then he took off his jeans letting them settle on the floor seconds later and then tugging the olive green long sleeve shirt over his head, letting that settle next to his jeans.

A lime green wire was barely visible through the wild mess of dark brown hair and Greg could hear their song playing quietly. She’d fallen asleep listening to music or true crime podcasts again and it had him chuckling as he carefully moved his pillow from beneath her arm and slipped into bed next to her.

He slipped the earbud out of her ear and felt around until he located her cell phone, slipping it out from beneath her pillow and putting it on charge on his nightstand because if he didn’t, it’d be dead later.

She wasn’t ever really good at remembering to keep her cell phone accurately charged. It slipped her mind often. If she wasn’t forgetting to charge it, she was forgetting where she had it last.

As she seemed to realize that he was home from his shift at the lab, she curled into him, her arm and leg slipping over him as she did so. Greg’s hand raised, caressing her cheek and pushing the black velvet eye mask she wore to keep the light out of her eyes up and out of the way. Her body molded against his completely. Her mouth pressed lazily against his as she yawned out “You’re finally home. I can actually sleep.”

Her words had him chuckling. His tongue dragged slow over the outline of plump lips before slipping between them. She rocked into him just a little and his arm slipped over her, hand settling on her ass, gripping. A quiet whine escaped her lips, lingering in the small space between their mouths. He felt the shiver pass through her body as he gave her ass another squeeze, rocking her into him all over again. 

“I thought that’s what you were doing, babe.” he muttered into a deepening kiss  in between the soft sounds of their mouths meeting. She took his face in her hands, deepening the kiss even more. The kiss broke and they pulled apart to breathe. Her hands were all over him now, trailing over his chest, making him growl quietly as he settled on top of her, leaning down. Hands ghosting over her sides and slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt, that she’d been sleeping in. Working it up over her head slowly. Her hand dipped down, a delicate fingertip dragging ever so slowly across his abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers, making him groan quietly.

“I was trying to. Now I can actually do it.” Belle answered sleepily, pulling him down on top of her completely. Whimpering when she felt him hard enough to break, straining through his boxers. Greg thrust himself against her, his hands skimming over her sides again, hanging on her curves as he gazed into big and bright but sleepy brown eyes and promptly started to get lost.

Just like always.

He was an addict and she was his shot of dopamine. And so much more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Belle asked, biting down on her lower lip as she gazed up at him. Greg chuckled, shaking his head. Trailing a finger over those kiss swollen lips of hers and making her give a quiet whimper and promptly pout, accusing him of being a tease before he finally got to answer, “Nothin, babe. Just can’t stop thinking about how sexy you are. How lucky I am that I get to come home to you.” he bucked himself into her and she met the motion, her arms slipping around his neck. Fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck as she smiled and gave him a deep kiss.

Filled with longing. Her hands all over him because she just couldn’t keep them off or still for very long.

“I’m telling you, I’m the lucky one, Greg.” her legs raised, bent at the knee and one of them resting on either side of his body. In the softest and most teasing tone he’d ever heard, she muttered against his mouth as she licked at the outline of it when the kiss broke again at last, “Wanna put me back to sleep, baby?”

“Mhm. Very much so.” Greg’s voice was husky and warm against her skin as his mouth moved down the front of her throat slowly. Stopping to nip and lick, making her come alive beneath him. Her legs squeezing his sides as she rubbed against him more. Desperate for friction. Desperate to feel skin on skin completely. With an impatient whine, she reached down between them, tugging at the thick band of his boxers, gazing up at him with a begging look that had him caving in a split second.

He tugged her panties down, tossing them out of the way and then he pulled away from her and she rose to sit, tugging at his boxers, letting them pool at his feet. He kicked them free and he was settling back on top of her, pushing her back against the mattress all over again as his hands caressed her face and his mouth buried in her mouth all over again, deeply. 

His hands wandered then settled on her hips and he sank into her slowly, burying inch for inch inside. Gazing deep into her eyes as the kiss broke. Slow deep drives so that she could feel every single inch as it buried inside her. The soft creak of their bed made them laugh a little, especially when it started to get louder.. Faster. She clung to his body and nipped at his neck, marking it up, making him groan and grip her body tighter, really starting to slam into her. His forehead settled against her forehead.

All he could do was stare down at her. Mesmerized by every little move her body made pinned beneath his. He bit down on his lip, a quiet groan escaping and hanging in the air between the two.

She was staring right back at him, her hips perfectly meeting his with each deep and drawn out drive deep into her body. When he bottomed out, her head fell back and her eyes fluttered open and shut as she moaned his name. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in deeper still, her heels digging into his backside as he pumped in and out of her, the sound of skin against skin and the slow and steady creak of the bed competing with the sound of her whimpers and cries of pleasure and his moans. 

He felt her tensing, starting to shake a little and he slowed. Peppering hot little kisses against her face, lips and neck. Touching her all over. Her nails scraped at his bare back and his fingers dug into her hips as he tried to work himself back from the edge.

“You’re fucking amazing.”

“So are you.” she met his lips in a slow but fiery kiss, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip just slightly, the pressure making his lips ache and he knew that hours from now, he’d still feel that ache and he’d smile to himself about it when he thought about why his lips were aching and his back was scratched… why there were love bites littering his neck, throat and chest.

And he’d remember every single handprint, love bite and mark he left behind on her as well.

“Baby, please.” she whimpered when he started to fuck into her all over again, slower. Deeper. Touching her everywhere he could get his hands. “Please what?” Greg asked, a teasing chuckle against her skin as his mouth roamed down the side of her neck, marking it up even more.

“Faster. Harder.” her legs grip on his hips tightened and he grunted as the way she angled her hips had him hitting right against a spot that felt so fucking good he didn’t want to stop and almost couldn’t. He barely managed to keep himself from obliging her, speeding up as she was begging for, but he managed to slow down, shaking his head.

“Uh uh.” he teased, rolling his tongue over the outline of kiss swollen lips, making her stick her tongue out to meet his. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of it. He slowed even more, nearly pulling all the way out only to slowly bury himself back inside of her, inch for inch. And the more he did this, the more her fingers dug into his shoulders or her nails dragged down his back.

The more he did this, the more he tortured himself until finally, he almost couldn’t hold back anymore. His mouth dove against her own and he muttered quietly, “Now baby. It has to be now, I can’t take anymore, fuck.” 

When he felt her tighten around his length, he growled, nipping at her neck, lips latching on, sucking as he fucked into her faster, erratic thrusts of their bodies meeting and the sound of skin against skin competing with their moans and groans or the way she whimpered his name over and over as she went racing over the edge and he went right along with her. He fucked them through a shared orgasm and pressed himself against her before falling to the bed beside her and rolling onto his side, wrapping his body around her, hands caressing her face as he gave her a long and slow and deep kiss.

“Tired now, baby?” he teased when she yawned and nodded. “Very.”

He yawned too, nodding in agreement. “Same. Let’s go to sleep, yeah?”

“Mhm.” she purred, lips brushing against his chest, already starting to drift off...

[justauthoring]

Pleading For Mercy - Stiles Stilinski

Ooooh go on then!! Can I request a stiles stilinski x reader where the big lizard thing (I can't remember what it's called!) gets her in the garage say she's working on stiles' jeep instead of the dude and he rescues her/pulls her away just in time before the thingy collapses? You can throw in some sarcastic stilinski at the end if you like :) hope you enjoy!!

can I have a stiles x reader where the reader and stiles aren’t together but she almost gets killed (whatever villain/ thing you’re dealing with atm ) and he saves her and just holds her afterwards and comforts her bc she’s scared.

Requested by: @creamychickenuggets

Author’s Notes: So, I wasn’t exactly sure how to write this, given that in that scene, the dude died. Therefore, it’s slightly different for writing purposes.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Word Count: 706

-

There was a sudden sting in the back of your neck. You felt the slightest touch of something, though you weren’t sure what, almost like a claw, before your entire body froze. You opened your mouth to say something, but found the words caught in your throat. Your body was more than just frozen, it was rigid and even though you tried, you couldn’t move your own limbs.

You felt back then, the last strength in your body being ultimately your down-fall. You thudded against the ground, the back of your head hitting the concrete and for a moment your vision blurred. You blinked, trying to see or spot something. Whatever had hurt you, it’d paralyzed you as well. And as you stared up before you, you saw Stiles’s jeep above, the machine it’d been on directly above you.

Even though nothing had happened, you knew, deep down, that that thing hadn’t just paralyzed you for the sake of it.

The only thing you could move was your head, but even then, only slightly. You felt your heart race, the frustration of not being able to move your own body only adding to the complete terror you felt. You tried to think of something, anything, that could help you. Then, you remembered - Stiles.

You tested to see if you could move your mouth, and you could. You hoped to God that the boy was still around, and hadn’t run off since your last conversation.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the familiar hum of machinery echoed. And as you slowly moved your eyes back out before you, you realized your fears were coming true. The lift that the jeep had been resting was slowly moving downwards, picking up velocity as it went. In mere minutes, it’d crush you.

Eyes widening, you used every last bit of your strength to call out; “Stiles!” Part of you wanted to just accept the fact that Stiles had probably already ran off, and there was no saving you. The pessimistic side of you at least. But the determined part of you, told yourself to fight. You may not be able to move but you could scream at the top of your lungs until your throat was raw.

And so you did. Repeatedly calling Stiles’s name as you watched it grow closer and closer, minutes, even less than that, away from crushing you to death. You pleaded for help and cried, desperation flooding your better judgement. There was absolutely no way to tell if Stiles was there, if he was coming to help you or not, because you could barely move your head. You just had to wait, lay there, unable to move; to either be saved or to die.

Then, seconds before the weight of the entire jeep would fall on you, hands slipped under your armpits, tugging. A breath of relief flooded you, willing yourself to help Stiles, or whoever, pull you out. But you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried.

And then, you stopped and the arms disappeared. You heard a metallic clang, and figured that the machinery had lowered finally.

Stiles’s face appeared above you, wide eyed and panicked as he breathed heavily. “Jesus... fuck,” he whispered, “Y/N. Y/N, are you okay? Are you hurt?” You weren’t oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t asked what happened, or why you were paralyzed. But you didn’t really care either.

You just nodded, still stunned. Then, as if realization of everything came crashing down on you, you felt your eyes water. Stiles noticed almost immediately, and his hands fell on you once again, this time on your shoulders as he hauled you upwards. Before you knew it, and despite only knowing Stiles because he was in one of your classes, the boy wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

You let him. Even if you could’ve moved your limbs, you would’ve let him. Right now, his comfort was the only thing keeping you sane.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Your eyes drifted to where Stiles’s jeep was, feeling your heart still racing madly against your chest. “Oh God, thank you.”

Stiles only grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you closer to himself as you let out a sob. 

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open!

[movedto-dazaipositive]

one guess where this started. couldn't have done it without @taggianto 💜 you.

CW: rape and resultant pregnancy; severe self-worth issues; mentally ill character with wrong ideas about what constitutes mental illness.

so, I've got a running headcanon that Kent's mom is alcoholic and she has ptsd.

rape & pregnancy TW // she was raped in college and that's how she got pregnant with Kent. she kept him out of choice, but she loves him no matter what

but that doesn't change the fact that she has ptsd and for many years while she was working 3 jobs to keep them alive and Kent on the ice, and she had to get through somehow. so she drank at home

and she wasn't ever really there for Kent. she couldn't be, between drinking and working. does Kent resent her? I don't think so. I don't think he knew it was even an option until he met the Zimmermanns and Jack

and saw the way they behaved with each other. but he loves his mom and he'd do anything for her. it's why he sticks with hockey even when it hurts–his mom worked hard to get him where he is, and he can't let her down now

but she crashes around the time Kent is 16/17. she's no longer got Kent around to survive for, and it really messes her up. and Kent watches Jack and his mom crash and burn, up close and from afar, and it fucks him up

like, bad. he can't stop thinking that it was him, that he's the reason they're the way they are. that he's the only thing they have in common and they're both–the way they are, and it must be him. it must be Kent

jack's OD breaks Kent, pushes him over the edge of a cliff he was already clinging to with his fingertips. he shuts down completely and only surfaces to a) send his mom to rehab with his first NHL paycheck b) and play hockey

he withdraws completely. cuts himself off from human contact at the exact time he needs it the most. he spends his rookie year with the Aces Captain, Patty, his wife and their two kids, barely holding on to his humanity

it's a good thing the team forces Kent out regularly, because otherwise he'd turn into an Actual Hockey Robot. it's not that he isn't friendly with them–he plays beautiful hockey and laughs and chirps with the rest of them, but there's something off about it. he's skittish and awkward, and he gets this look in his eyes sometimes, like he survived something awful but not really.

like he isn't all there. they worry about him. he's too small and too good at hockey and he needs someone to watch out for him

the first year, it's the whole team. all how-many-ever of them, looking out for Kent on and off the ice. the second year, Jeff comes to them

Jeff is...good with Kent.

Jeff's been playing on the NHL for a couple years, got drafted third or fourth to the Seattle Schooners. he's a good teammate, dryly funny, chirps that take a second to sink in. he plays good hockey, not as good as Kent, but good.

but he seems to know, instinctively, what Kent needs at any given moment

Jeff drags Kent into being social and actually, y'know, forming meaningful connections with other people by giving Kent puppy eyes until Kent agrees to hang out with Jeff and teammate of the week

and Kent, horribly unused to being someone people want to spend time with and nearly incapacitated by loneliness after a year of next to no human connection, says yes every time

and Kent is a person? under that weird obsessive hockey robot exterior? he's fun to hang out with. he's even funny. he's a bit a total dork and likes helping people and he always knows a good place to eat

so people on Kent's team start to seek his company even without Swoops around and Kent goes ? but he doesn't like to let people down or say no

Kent is still like, messed up inside. he doesn't sleep well and there are a lot of days when he won't get out of bed of he doesn't have to. but he's still trying

except... he's not trying to be better at Humaning for himself. he's doing it for Jeff and the people who depend upon him to show up and entertain their kids for two hours so they can go on a date

the only thing that's changed is the manifestation of Kent's chronic self-sacrificing and the people who receive it.

and Kent is honestly trying really hard and overcompensating for a year of not being a good Human Person so he swamps himself in helping people and overworks himself

and it's Jeff that picks up the pieces of Kent's dumbassery. it's Jeff that calls people to let them know that Kent has the flu, no they haven't been to the doctor yet, yes he's mostly okay he's puking right now, so no he can't come and take care of your kids Patty find a fucking babysitter you're a millionaire jfc

(Patty is kind of a dick)

Kent: [in between puking] but I promised

Jeff: shut the fuck up

Kent's bedridden for almost a week. he misses two games, both of which the Aces lose

it's during this week that Jeff realises just how fucked up Kent is, because in the middle of puking his guts out and shivering under six blankets he still finds time to blame himself for everything that goes wrong in that week. e v e r y s i n g l e t h i n g. it's not really Kent's fault, being sick pulls down all walls that keep him from airing the constant internal monologue of self blame and loathing, but Jeff calls his cousin Rashmi and has a slight breakdown

well, I say slight. he nearly cries

Jeff needs to talk about how much Kent is hurting and omg I never knew im a terrible friend eeeee

she tells him to a) calm the fuck down b) don't take this so personally, you can't help him if you think you're the one to blame, he's doing that already c) here's a bunch of helpful links on how to deal when you think your friend might be mentally ill

Jeff tries to be subtle about bringing up the 'you might be mentally ill thing'. Kent, however, is not dumb. he catches on to this really fast, and panics hard. his only experience with mentally ill folks is his mom and Jack, and they are not a good place to start–both addicts who've been unintentionally emotionally abusive to Kent. Kent draws the best conclusion he can with this data pool. the conclusion is I am a horrible person who will soon be drug addict and hurt the people around me, whoops time to Shut Down

Kent [shutting down] I am a horrible person that deserves nothing good, ever. Jeff: nO Kent: I can't hear you over the sound of my self loathing Jeff: N O

and Jeff does not know how to deal with a Kent who's gone straight back to rookie year levels of skittish I-am-a-virus-don't-touch-me. the team, on the other hand, knows perfectly well how.

or, at least, they know how they dealt with it. but they're hockey players, with the combined emotional intelligence of a nail clipper, and when they tell Jeff about it he's horrified. so he figures out his own methods–he sticks as close to Kent as possible while not overwhelming him, and he does his best to be Supportive

it is difficult to be supportive when the person you are Supporting does not want to be supported. so he does his research, and hits upon the perfect solution

he goes to the local pet shelter and asks for the most unlikely to be adopted kitten, because he knows that Kent has a soft spot for hopeless things

they give him a three month old Calico, blind and almost certainly headed to a shelter without a no kill rule

Jeff: ......I'll take it

Kent is baffled and enchanted. Jeff really thought it'd be harder to sell this to Kenny, but Kent's holding squirmy, curious little kit, already babytalking to her, asking her if she knows what a pretty princess she is, yes you are, aren't you and Jeff has a second where he thinks Oh, shit

bc this more humanity and interest than Kent has shown in almost a month, and then Kent is turning to Jeff to ask him questions about raising cats that Jeff didn't even know were a concern, but clearly this is making Kent happy, so Jeff gives him a book he'd picked up at the recommendation of the volunteer at the shelter, and drives Kent helplessly to the pet store and watches as Kent buys cat shit off Amazon

Kent doesn't realise she's blind, at first. kit (Jeff named her) has large golden eyes that are permanently dilated. Kent only figures out she's blind when he's sitting on the floor watching her toddle around, and she keeps walking into his outstretched legs. Kent calls Jeff in a panic, asking him if he knows what's with kit's eyes, and Jeff thinks I knew I was forgetting something

and then he explains the situation to Kent, and Kent reacts exactly the way Jeff expected him to–with a sudden fierce dedication to kit, even more so than ten minutes ago when he would have died for her

Kent cat-proofs his house–he pours a lot of time and money into getting everything exactly right so Kit needn't suffer more than necessary. he lavishes Kit with all the love he's capable of–and he's always capable of a lot more love than he thinks–and makes sure that everyone coming to his house knows that one move that frightens Kit is more than enough to get them banned

so Kent pours himself heart and soul into loving kit. he spends every second he isn't on the ice taking care of his beloved baby princess

and it's incredibly healing. he knows he has to get up in the morning and come back after runs (not walk into traffic) and that he has to get done on the ice so he can come back to her

and it's incredibly healing. he knows he has to get up in the morning and come back after runs (not walk into traffic) and that he has to get done on the ice so he can come back to her

there's a period of like, six months, where the only reason Kent does anything at all is because kit needs him to. and he won't let himself think about how Jeff could also maybe take care of her. he won't.

his mom's rehab clinic is expensive but ridiculously intensive and extensive. it's almost 14 months of rehab and therapy and relearning hire to be a person without addiction, as well as working through whatever led you to seek addiction in the first place

Diana Parson comes out of it changed. she feels more like a person than ever before in her life. she feels whole, healed still, but so much better

so she goes back home, and Kent is in Vegas depressed as fuck, and his mom is in New York living for herself, and doing things she loves, and discovering herself outside of therapy

she comes back home at a time when it's incredibly difficult for Kent to do even basic things like have a conversation. so all through the season, he doesn't visit her and he can't even summon up the guilt.

and her therapist tells her it's okay, that he needs time too. and she loves him and she gives him the time she needs, but she also decides that she's stable enough to foster a child

which goes well! Lydia is 7 and slightly untrusting but Diana has patience and love and she's been reading and she's financially stable and she has time (ask things she didn't have with Kent). she has time to ask Lydia how her day went. time to play and talk and do bonding activities with just the two of them

and soon enough she and Lydia love each other so much! and they have rough times but they get through it.

the season ends. and the aces lose. and Kent is probably even worse than before. and someone suggests that since the aces will no longer be in town to make sure that Kent buys groceries/stays a person, hey you should go visit your mom!

so Kent, depressed and hating himself, gets to watch his mom get her big second chance

and he tries do hard not to be bitter but it's killing him. he keeps wondering what his life would be like if he were Lydia. if he had a financially stable supportive mom. and he can't blame his mom so he blames himself

he blames himself for needing more than she could give him. because she did her best and she raised a pro NHL player and he doesn't have any right to expect more

and one night it gets so bad that drives himself to Jeff's place

this would be okay but Jeff actually lives in Canada

he's just. in this place where Jeff is the only person that Kent knows won't hurt him

and he's so, so tired

and Jeff, chilling with his family, suddenly has an armful of distraught sleep-deprived Captain

and he's just like ......sorry I gotta take this

Kent knows where Jeff lives bc he's been there at least once before

and Kent just. breaks down. he cries for hours. and Jeff can't do anything except drag Kent up to his room and cuddle him while he cries and pet his hair. Kent cries himself to sleep, but he wakes up with Jeff wrapped around him and there's like, 14 seconds where he just feels safe and good because Jeff's there and hugging him in bed so something somewhere must have gone right

anyway Kent wakes up and gets dressed with Jeff hovering gently over him, knocking into him once in a while to make sure he's okay

(like when cats wind around your feet because they're excited to see you. except they might trip you up. the issue w Jeff is that he is Big)

he finds his phone in some weird corner of his car and plugs it in. and finds out that he has 200+ missed calls from his mom

because his mom doesn't have the numbers of any teammates she can call and she's been so worried and he feels Horrible for Being This Way

so he calls her. and she picks up on the second ring and she's been having panic attacks and flashbacks for 4 days and she doesn't remember parts of her therapy

so she yells at him. and Kent is still way too fragile to handle this but he also has to do this? and he just. panics

mother-son bonding via hyperventilating to each other on a phone line

but Jeff gets so mad on Kent's behalf, and pulls the phone out of Kent's hand and cuts the call.

but then he feels guilty so he sends her a quick text message to let her know that Kent is safe and he'll call when he feels better

and the next few days are just Jeff hugging Kent and Kent wearing Jeff's clothes everywhere because he didn't bring his own

and when they kiss it's just so natural? Kent stops hiding how much he wants Jeff. it's too much work. and Jeff is close to Kent almost all the time. and they're so stupidly in love that Jeff's older brother walks into them making out against the kitchen counter and moon walks back out

they make out for so long that every member of Jeff's family sees them and walks back out.

[thejamesoldier]

81 Bucky x Reader?

Thanks lovie for sending something in! This was so fun to write bc let’s face it, we’re all jealous hoes when it comes to Bucky xxx

Prompt #81: “Who’s texting you? - “Umm. Nobody.”

{im sorry but this gif is actually making me cry. he’s just so beautiful someone stop him}

A Naked Face & A Phone

There were a couple of Things that happened that ultimately led to your downfall.

The first Thing was Bucky got a phone.

The second was Bucky shaved for the first time since the 40′s. Like not stubble management, but actually full on shaved. Naked face and all.  

Both were huge steps for him and you were so proud. You didn’t tell him that because you’re not Steve and it’d be weird. The only reason Bucky and you have ever spoken is because your the only one he let’s work on his arm.

Stark brought you in because you’re the best of the best when it comes to modern cutting edge technology (which Tony never said straight out, but it was implied and coming from Tony Stark you were flattered). Originally you were only supposed to conference with Stark about creating a new arm for one Sergeant Barnes. Help him with ideas and such because two geniuses were certainly better than one. But when you both brain stormed up a possible first model to present to Barnes before actually making it (because Barnes knows more about it than you two ever would and it would be stupid not to have him involved in the process), he took one look at the graphs and walked out without saying a word.

Tony almost chased him down being offended, furious, and exhausted from about two weeks of no sleep and too much coffee trying to make this for him with you. But you held him back and talked some of Barnes perspective into him. You figured the idea of any kind of surgery on his body would with out a doubt be one of Barnes’ big red ‘DON’T PUSH ME’ buttons on the PTSD panel in his brain.

It took a month of hard conversations and more model work-throughs before Stark, Barnes, and you decided on a final draft. You and Stark manifested this final theory into reality to make the first physical model of Barnes’s new arm. When it came time to put it on though, Barnes took one step into the surgery/tech room, one look at the metal table in the center of hovering machines and assistant drones, and plummeted into one of the most heart wrenching panic episodes you have ever witnessed. It down right broke you in two.  

It took another month for Barnes to be comfortable enough to even look Tony and you in eye (not that it was personal, you had to keep reminding Tony of that), and then another month after that to agree to try again. You couldn’t blame him for his fears. Honestly, if it were you, you would have given up long ago. But Bucky has the kind of soul that is so resilient, so strong even at it’s weakest, that he truly does belong in those comic books and museum murals. He deserved to be made a constellation in the sky to be look up to an awed at. Bucky astounded you.

Of course you’ve never told him that.

It turned out that Barnes was only comfortable with you touching him and securing the new arm because during his time with Hydra, no woman ever worked on him. Sure there were women scientists, but the actual surgeries and operations and tune-ups were left to the male “doctors”. Tony, for once, wasn’t offended if maybe a little troubled. Tony understood it wasn’t about him, it wasn’t even about Barnes, it was about fear and how it controls the mind and body, irrational or not.

It’s been about a year and a half since you attached that first new arm; a year and a half of you hopelessly and secretly pinning over Bucky Barnes.

Currently, you’re sitting in your own tech room (after the realization that Bucky wouldn’t allow anything to be done to him unless you were doing it, you were permanently hired) at Stark Tower, sitting a little crooked on a rollie-stool, bent over at an odd angle, nose deep in Bucky’s newest upgraded arm: JBB Model #024.

For the last hour you have been trying to get a set of wires to cooperate in his forearm and are heavily relying on your stores of patience to not do something childish or over dramatic in front of Bucky. Bucky still couldn’t make himself sit in a chair with a high back or head rest, so instead he sits on a stool too, metal (or vibranium – courtesy of T’Challa) arm resting on the sturdy work table between you. A bunch of tools and gadgets are displayed haphazardly on the generous wide tray. At the beginning of your tune-up the tools were all perfectly organized by purpose and necessity, but as this process dragged on a lot longer than originally planned, you got sucked into the mechanics of his arm and sacrificed your pretty tray for a messy one.

Your eyes hadn’t left the inside of his arm the entire time, blindly grabbing at tools and things as you could not pull your focus away or relax the line that felt as deep as the grand fucking canyon inbetween your eyebrows. Bucky watched every tick and snap you made in his arm. At the beginning he had to watch because he never was aloud to watch before, making sure you were doing what you told him you were doing. He sometimes felt the need to apologize for treating you like a Hyrda doctor, but one look at your face and he knew you understood and weren’t even the slightest bit offended.

He was so grateful.

Bucky now watched yes to oversee progress, but his gripping fear lessened the more he trusted you, and instead his eyes had wandered to watching you. He hadn’t looked at a woman and thought, ‘She’s pretty’ in such a long time that when it happened to him in the middle of one of your regular tune-ups, he had to exercise every inch of self control to not jolt in his seat. You thankfully didn’t notice but Bucky was left with a big ol’ ball of yarn to grapple with now.

As he observes you now, focused like the world will end if you break your concentration for even a second, he gives himself permission to admire you. He’s as familiar with the planes and lines and curves of your face as you are with every inch, inside and out, of Bucky’s arm. You’re simply beautiful, and Bucky feels so refreshed at having such a human thought but also nervous because shit how does this work again? and he’s kept this precious feeling he has for you tucked safe away inside his chest. No danger of being found out because if Bucky is good at anything, its holding onto things.

Barnes believes he’s too fucked up for you, but there’s no law against admiring you from a far (or one foot away) is there? He doesn’t remember that there was. Staring is only rude if you’re caught, which he made sure he never was.

As you tinker away you’re so absorbed in your work that you don’t feel Bucky’s gaze on your face, never have. You go into this zone when you work where everything blurs out, time, hunger, thirst, rest, your surroundings, and its a curse and blessing. Tony is the only one (and Bruce) who gets that.

Now nothing short of the world blowing up could pull you from your focus –

Beep beep!

Your ears register the sound of a phone vibrating and for some reason your brain deems this ‘world blowing up’ serious because you tear your eyes away from the godforsaken wires, to see Bucky blinking down at his Stark phone, large thumb tapping across the screen.

Your sore fingers want to twitch but instead you let your left eye do the twitching instead. Before you can stop yourself because who the fuck is texting Bucky?!! you finally, after a year and a half, trip up.

“Who’s texting you?” You would like to say your voice was casual and friendly, but instead it sounded hoarse from not having spoken in a while and surprisingly sharp.

Bucky’s thumb pauses. A number of reactions and emotions flutter and tumble through him at your tone. Plus the fact that you never once have been distracted, or even made small talk, while working on his arm before and now of all times you break your streak? Bucky ends up settling on feeling mushy and warm but also like gongs were being banged on in his stomach when he hits send, locks his phone, and stuffs it back into the front pocket of his jeans before responding.

“Umm. Nobody.” Now Bucky had no idea why he lied. Obviously someone had texted him (it was Sam yelling at him in capslock accusing him of eating the last of the oreos he had called dibs on; Bucky was totally guilty of this quote ‘HEINOUS CRIME’), but for some reason a foreign instinct told Bucky to be cryptic. To be mysterious.

Barnes’ words hit you like a slap in the face. The obvious fact that you had expected him to tell you was beyond embarrassing. He might be yours in your head, but in reality he barely said two words to you. Of course it wasn’t your damn business to demand to know who’s texting him! Bucky’s looking at you from the corner of his eye like you might have another head sprouting out of your skull or something. Your heart cries and hides under metaphorical covers.

Bucky keeps his profile to you, side-eyeing you with what he hopes is a dark horse (as Nat had called him) sexy confidence, but seeing your face heat up and your eyes blink back an expression of unfiltered humiliation, before you practically stuff your face inside his arm as you get back to work, he realizes you may have misinterpreted him.

Fuck, he thinks, barely stopping himself from huffing like a child, this flirting shit is harder than I remember.

You almost can’t take the never ending Niagara Falls level of embarrassment pouring over your head and soaking your body to the bone. You want to vomit. You want to stab yourself in the eye with the electric tweezers in your hand. You also couldn’t stop even if you wanted to the rush of theories running through your head at who could be texting him. The phone is new, barely a week old so you comfort yourself that he couldn’t have gotten loads of girls’ numbers…

Yet, you’re inner asshole adds.

You know Nat is trying to rope Bucky into her matchmaking game, the same one that she’s been doing with Steve. Your heart gives an extraordinarily uncomfortable squeeze in your chest, but you’re proud to say you didn’t wheeze. You only continue working on the wires, praying you can fix them because sitting here under Bucky’s obviously disgusted eye is Purgatory itself.

Bucky hears your heart do an impressive chorus of pumps and jolts, the only hint that you’re as effected by this as he wanted you to be. Okay maybe he didn’t want to make you feel humiliated, but the confirmation that you cared was so satisfying; he actually loved you wanted to know who was texting him. Your exterior expression is back to its professional masked coolness and Bucky is hit with the itching urge to try to do something to break it again. To peel you out of your formalities and get you offering –

Offering? Bucky’s eyebrows would have knit together but his face is as cool and empty as yours, Offering him what?

Its another ten horrible minutes from hell before you finally fix those fucking wires. As quickly as you possibly can you carefully re-plate his arm, making sure everything is secure and smooth, before near leaping out of your seat and sprinting for the sliding glass door even if this is your workshop. Shut up, escaping was vital to your survival at this point. You shout some excuse about really having to go to the bathroom before Bucky can say anything, door already sliding close behind you.

Bucky stares after you, outwardly impassive, but inside there’s a hurricane of What the Actual Fuck Am I Doing?

It’s been a week since your outburst. You keep torturing yourself with re-runs of the moment to remind yourself why you need to avoid him at all costs. I mean not that you spoke that much anyway, but still you made extra sure. You wish you were cool enough to not have to avoid him and could hide your feelings so effortlessly like Natasha tried to teach you, but you were much more pathetic and therefore, weren’t good at hiding your feelings. You’re surprised you’ve gotten away with it this long. If it was a normal dude you would have been caught much sooner, but since Bucky is so far from normal you realize that’s been your cop out.

Now you’re panicking. Because Bucky, while oblivious to certain things while he re-learns how to be a man, was and still is one of the world’s most deadly assassins with instincts and reflexes as sharp as a fucking laser. Nothing got past him in a professional setting, but now that he’s realizing he can apply those same skills to everyday communication in reading people you have a fairly good dooming feeling that your time has run out.

He’ll emotionally snipe your ass so quick you won’t even know what hit you.

Bucky’s arm tune-ups are weekly. Sometimes more than once a week if there are any minor training incidents or the like. Tomorrow he’s due back in your workshop and you’ve been laying sprawled out on the carpet of your bedroom in your place in Queens for the better part of three hours.

You’ve been meticulously going over emergency procedures, installing ‘self-eject’ buttons, on multiple situations that could occur in that room. You know your end is here but goddammit you’re going in prepared. You know you might be over-dramatizing things, but you’ve been head over heels for this guy for a year and a half. You give yourself a little slack.

It’s tomorrow and your about ready to vomit sitting, or more like jittering on your stool obsessively organizing and re-organizing your tools. Your hair is tied back into a loose ponytail to keep your hair out of your face as you work, but you are tempted to yank a few strands out to hide behind. Before your nerves can get the better of you and release a curtain of your hair, Bucky strides in.

You don’t look up right away, pretending to be professionally preparing your tools for the tune-up. It’s not until Bucky grunts his usual hello and sits down, before you brave a quick glance up and do a painfully embarrassing double take. Your lips part, your fingers drop the tool you just picked up, and your lungs peace out.

Thing #2 happened. He shaved.

The once rugged look Bucky sported had disappeared completely. The loss of stubble on his face revealed the elegant lines of high cheekbones and a diamond cut jawline, high arched eyebrows sitting low and enticing over crystalline cobalt eyes, a swath of coal lashes that cast soft shadows on either side of a swooping nose sitting above the deep valley of his cupid’s bow. It all collected into this handsome portrait of old world charm and beauty.

The sound of your tool clanking against the metal of your tray wrenches you out of your staring. You fumble with it some more making an awful ruckus. Bucky is smiling fondly at you scrambling cross the work table and gently places his metal elbow down in the usual position you like it when you first start. When you eventually wrangle your tools back to their spots and a loud silence reigns over the two of you, you gently run your fingers over his arm before starting the tune-up.

Your cheeks are like two bonfires that adamantly refuse to go out. Bucky watches you blush and blush and blush and blush as you dive nose first into his arm. It’s downright adorable. He hears your heart pump unevenly and fast, doing it’s best imitation of Thumper in your chest. Bucky rolls his shoulders a little and swallows against a dry throat. He takes out his phone and opens up the messaging app.

“Sorry!” You squeak when your fingers twitch at seeing Bucky fucking texting again who the hell is he texting?! and a sensor on the inside of his bicep sends an electric jolt into Barnes’ shoulder.

Bucky feels the jolt but doesn’t do anything but smile when you look up all doe-eyed and jumpy.

“Didn’t hurt.” The supersoldier says kindly, looking in your eyes and letting his smile ink into his gaze. You bite your lip, flutter your lashes in a nervous flurry, and snap your eyes back down to his arm.

Bucky is so damn smug with himself. Knowing for sure that him possibly communicating with other people makes you jealous. At first he didn’t know why you were acting the way you were, he just knew he liked it. It wasn’t until he really thought about it that it came to him. Bucky doesn’t want to play with you, he just wanted to run a few tests of his own before going in for what he so charmingly called ‘Real Obvious Flirting Initiative’.

With a small steadying breath and without taking his eyes off you, Bucky types out a text. His smile grows with your terribly hidden jealousy as you listen to the thick pads of his thumb tap the screen. When he’s finished typing, he checks to make sure there are no weird autocorrected words then hits send.

Your phone goes off with a ding! in your back pocket. You pay no mind to it and continue to work, subconsciously plotting ways to steal his phone and see who he has in his contacts. Threatening every female in his contact list is too much right? Right, yeah too much. Maybe you could accidentally break the phone? No, Stark would get him a new one. Probably even a better one at that. You continue your devious train of thought while pacing on through the tune-up.

Thankfully Bucky doesn’t pull out his phone again, so when you finish you don’t have to bolt out of the room. Again. You look up and deliver (what you hope is) a professional smile and a nod, wiping the grease and fluid off your hands with a rag. Bucky stands, looks down at you and winks.

You’ve never felt so close to death (and maybe heaven) in your entire life.

When Bucky leaves you breathless sitting dumbly on your stool, you pull out your phone and subconsciously check for any messages. 

Today 16:30

Unknown Number: Hi

You furrow your eyebrows and respond.

Today 18:12

You: Who is this?

It’s not a second before you get a reply. 

Unknown Number: Next tune-up you’ll find out

Things went pretty smoothly from there. Sickeningly cute actually but you weren’t complaining (only Tony did but what’s new).

Hi so I hope you liked it! I had a blast writing jealous!reader and smug af!bucky xx

Don’t be afraid to submit something if you so desire! Drabble Prompts are here .

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