#continuously provide coherent responses i guess?

[i-amm-mj]

Breeding kink - smut to fluff

afabreader! x Katsuki Bakugo

⚠️ smut, breeding kink, dirty talk, creampie ⚠️

Katsuki doesn´t come from a big a family, so he doesn´t know where this craving for impregnate you with at least four of his kids is coming from. He woke up one day with you beside him, and saw your beautiful body sprawled on the mattress and he realized that you had awoken his most primal desires. He wanted to fuck you day and night until he got you pregnant; until he could see your belly all rounded and your breasts swelling and big from the milk that he was going to help you got out with his own mouth.

“That´s it, baby” he growled in your ear while pounding his dick in and out of your pussy “I´m gonna give you all of my cum and you´re gonna take it like the good girl you are, right?” You were so lost on the pleasure that the only thing you could do was dumbly nod.  

 “I´m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Going to give you as many kids as you want” he gulped hard when your walls pulsed around his dick “you´d like that, wouldn´t you?” you moaned. His sinful words and the way his hips moved against your own had your head spinning without a single coherent thought allowed to form.

“Yes, yes, please” you closed your eyes trying to enjoy the feeling starting to erupt in your lower belly.

“Please what?” He smirked while adjusting himself on the bed so he could lift your left ancle to his shoulder and have a better angle to that spot inside that had you curling your toes.

“Plea-please make me a mommy. I want your cum deep inside me” his breath hitched. Fucking hell, he loved when you responded to his dirty talk even with your mind all numb from the sex “Oh, fuck, I´m so close Kats, don´t stop” you said, and he inclined towards you to exchange a passionate kiss. It didn´t matter that it was all teeth and tongue because it was so fucking hot. You were fucking hot.

“Give it to me, gorgeous. Cum on my dick. Make a mess on me” He continued pounding into you so deliciously. You could feel every vein on his dick and the way it pulsed inside you wanting to explode right there.

“Cum with me, Kats. Please cum with me” you begged. A shiver went through his spine and his dick almost burst at the way your voice shook with every word.

“Fuck, I´m close too” he answered furrowing his brows, concentrating on the way your pussy sucked him in. You were so fucking wet that it slipped easily. He hissed.

“Right there. Right there” you cried out and Katsuki moved his thumb on your clit to amplify the sensations. That was all you needed to reach your peak. You moaned even harder and convulsed around his dick which made him cum at the same time. He spurted his cum in your pussy like he promised and then collapsed on top of you. You massaged his scalp, and he purred in contentment.

“I´m serious though” he murmured after giving your collarbones a light kiss.

“About what?” you asked a little confused.

“Knocking you up with my children” you giggled. He raised his head from your chest and pouted “What´s so funny idiot?”

“Aren´t we too young?”

“We´re 26”

“Exactly” you answered with a smile “Kids are a great responsibility and a very big investment.”  

“I´m hero number 5 right now, and in a few years I´ll be number 1 if fucking Deku doesn´t beat me to it, but even if I´m number 2 for the rest of my career I´m sure I can provide even a family of ten. And I´m sure you´ll get promoted sooner or later too because you´re the fucking best at what you do.” He stated.

“Ten!? Omg, didn´t you say four!?”

“Plans change” he smirked playfully. You laughed softly but wholeheartedly. Katsuki loved your laugh. He loved everything about you.

“We are not even married Kats,” you caressed his face with a smile on your face “my mother would never forgive me having a child outside marriage.”

He considered his words for a few seconds, and you tried to guess what was going on in that pretty but stubborn head of his. He then looked you in the eye and without doubt said “Let´s get married then. What are we waiting for?”

[nicad13]

Hey there. You mentioned doing PT for long COVID and I’m curious to hear what that entails. I have a couple of friends who have been dealing w various complications since 2020 but I’ve not heard of PT being helpful. If you’re willing to share, I’d love to hear.

Absolutely!

I'll start with two important points: 1) I am very fortunate to live near one of the AHRQ Long COVID clinics (a list of which can be found here), where the care I've received is provided by people who specialize in long-COVID. 2) Long COVID is not a coherent, unified syndrome - it manifests very differently in different people, and what has helped me will not necessarily help everyone. During my six-month check-in with the clinic coordinator, she stated it was "refreshing to hear from someone who is actually improving," which implied that many (most?) patients were not, but I'll admit I didn't pursue that line of conversation.

I'll continue with some context. I've always been an active person, even if only a mediocre athlete. I ran cross-country and track through middle and high school, and continued running until my mid/late 40's when old injuries caught up with me and I had to switch to an indoor rower. Just before I got sick, I was rowing 20K a week and could pull a 5K in under 22 minutes (not amazing, but pretty good for a 49-year-old woman). I mountain biked regularly and could ride a 25-mile cross country trail and still feel like a human being after. Never smoked, drank casually, and was effectively managing hypothyroidism with medication. All of this is to say I was reasonably healthy.

Despite being fully vaccinated and generally masking in crowded indoor situations, I managed to get COVID. Best guess is at the dentist, but there are a couple other possibilities, so I'm not really sure.

The acute phase actually wasn't too bad - first few days were like a moderate flu, then I made a quick improvement and sailed through the 5-day precautionary period feeling almost normal. Day 6 I woke up with a racing heart and my head feeling like it was stuck in a vice. My bout with long COVID had begun and that headache lasted for three months. It didn't really ease up until my next COVID booster.

The clinic I'm at doesn't enroll patients until you have symptoms for three months, and makes referrals specific to patient issues. Mine were primarily headaches and racing heart & chest pain after any kind of physical exertion - I went from the activity level I described above to not being able to walk more than a quarter of a mile at a time. A glass of wine a month after COVID made it feel like a xenomorph was trying to tear its way out of my chest. Near-constant chest pain made it difficult to sleep. My first referral was for a pulmonary function test to make sure I could handle PT. It was challenging, it was painful, and I felt like garbage for a couple days after, but my results were normal. On to PT!

The first test I did there was to walk laps around the gym for 5 minutes, with the goals of measuring how far I could get, reporting my pain level (2 or 3 on a scale of 1 to 10), compare my blood pressure from before, immediately after, and five minutes after, while monitoring my heart rate throughout. Recovery was reasonable enough so that the following week I did a Buffalo Test (developed at the University of Buffalo) - walked on a treadmill where the speed was gradually ramped up while my heart rate and pain level was monitored throughout, again with BP comparisons before and after. I recovered ok there, but, confirming my therapist's hunch, I had elevated stress levels (as measured by a Garmin watch) and felt like garbage several hours later. That lasted for a few hours and went away. Diagnosis made: I was having an inflammatory response to physical exertion, but with careful supervision, it's possible to train that out. One quick check with a cardiologist to confirm that my heart was up for it, and I got underway.

Two key points with the PT program I've followed: 1) unlike traditional competitive training that alternates hard & easy days, this has mostly been steady & consistent - no hard days, but no days off either. 2) closely supervised! I've had to keep an eye on my heart rate through all of this, made possible by the smartwatch I already had. I started off with getting a minimum of 10K steps in a day, including a brisk 1/2 mile walk every day with the goal of getting my heart rate up to 100 bpm but not going over that. (Normally, my resting heart rate is about 47 - at this point it was in the mid-50's and it didn't take much to get me up to 100.) Within a few days of that, I noticed that the chest pain improved and I was much more comfortable to sleep. After a while, that got bumped up to a mile. Then a mile and a half, etc., until a few months later when I got up to 4 miles. Then we added some rowing a couple days a week - first a few short intervals keeping under prescribed heart rates. (The smartwatch worked less well for this and I had to get a chest strap.) That felt horrible at first, but got better, and now I'm at 20 minutes twice a week, keeping my heart rate under 168 bpm. I have to be mindful to lay down and take it easy for a few minutes after to get my heart rate down (and keep it down for the rest of the evening).

My progress seems to have plateaued out for the last month or so. I'll hit the one-year mark next month. Current thinking is that the driving force with long-COVID is inflammation, so eating a diet that counteracts that (minimize processed foods & preservatives) is a general recommendation for everyone. So I do have to be careful about what I eat, and have noticed new things that disagree with me - Kraft mac & cheese (probably the preservatives in shelf-stable cheese), tomato sauce (high acidity, probably a GERD issue), and hummus (probably a preservative in that as well). I still can't drink without feeling like garbage and I'm big mad about it. CBD gummies give me chest pains and headaches as well.

So that's the general rundown. Again, what has led to improvement for me won't work for everyone - I had to pass a few tests to make sure I could tolerate it, and I was under very close supervision to start. I'm still nowhere near the person I was a year ago, and I have no idea if I'll ever fully recover. The funding cuts for scientific research and an anti-vaxxer getting installed at the head of HHS in the US does not fucking help. We'll see what happens.

[ghostwise]

48 for lace & lirio 👀👀👀

48. dancing with each other

“You know, I taught dance lessons once,” Harding tells him the night after the gala.

Lirio looks up, brows raised, the scarred corners of his mouth already lifted in an easy smile. “That so?”

“Well. Almost taught dance lessons, I should say,” she corrected. “I posted a flier at the tavern but, no one really… responded.”

“No one? Really?”

She nods, lingering for a moment on the memories of all those bodies on the floor, the way they had swayed in graceful revelry to the somber Nevarran music. She’d felt somewhat wistful, seeing how the dancers paired off with their loved ones. Until the giant skeleton had provided a distraction, anyway.

They are in her room, doing nothing in particular, just sharing an afternoon together. Days like this have become a soothing balm to her. There is plenty of excitement in both their lives; a moment of calm is welcome.

“It was back at Skyhold. I suppose everyone was kind of busy,” Harding says with a half-laugh. “Rifts in the Fade, Templars and mages, talking Darkspawn… though now we have Venatori, evil ancient mages, and two archdemons! Same shit, different day, huh?”

“You can say that again!”

“No idea how anyone managed to get anything done,” Lace continues. “Much less little things like… dancing. It was silly.”

“It’s not silly at all,” Lirio huffs. “Difficult times are when dancing is most necessary.”

“That’s a nice thought. You may be right,” Harding says with a smile—then she lets out a nervous giggle. Lirio has abandoned his book by the armchair, and is pacing around the room, looking for something.

“What are you doing?” she asks, watching him scan their surroundings.

“Perfect!”

Lirio swipes a scarf off the table. He wraps one end around his right hand, and the other end around his left, leaving a length of scarf loose on both sides, then he hurries back to Harding.

“Here!”

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, grinning ear to ear. He wiggles the scarf ends at her, and she raises a brow, guessing well enough to reach out and grab them.

“Alright,” Lirio says. “Show me.”

He pulls her up smoothly by the scarf.

“Oh-! Li! Be careful!” Harding gasps. The warning is punctuated by a giddy laugh.

“I am being careful. I’m interested in a dance lesson.”

Harding wishes she could formulate a coherent response, but all she can do is let out a mirthful shout as he spins her, the scarf twisting and untwisting. How well he knows how to coax out her laughter: The giggles from watching her father chase a loose hog at the farm, the late-night games of Wicked Grace at the Herald’s Rest, the laughing fits from a chaotic day in the kitchen with her mom, covered in flour, apple peels scenting the air…

“Alright!” Harding beams up at him. “We can probably do, like, a modified waltz? Watch me... and follow my lead.”

[nismunc-ipc]

U.S. Exposes Its Hypocrisy and Incompetence 

by ChengQi from Xinhua News Agency 

UNESCO - In a display of utter incoherence and self-contradiction during the UNESCO press conference, the delegate of the United States failed to provide a competent response when confronted about the nation’s misplaced priorities on so-called “human rights advocacy”. Despite their previous relentless insistence on dictating global morality, the U.S. exposed its hypocrisy by acknowledging its domestic turmoil while oering an unconvincing and uninformed justification for its actions. 

When questioned about why Washington continues to push LGBT agendas abroad while its own country is plagued by racial and social strife, gun violence, and political instability, the U.S. delegate provided an extremely muddled and unclear response, riddled with vague statements lacking any substance. The delegate’s remarks were centred around the transition to a new administration under Donald Trump, with some out-of-context remarks about a new terminology and how previous frameworks had been “blown away” and that funds could now be “diverted to other more important stu, I guess.” 

The blatant lack of direction and concrete policy details raises some serious questions: How can the U.S. justify interfering in other nations’ social policies when it cannot even articulate a coherent domestic plan? How does it claim to champion human rights while consistently failing its people? The response was not just disappointing—it was an outright embarrassment, exposing the U.S. as an unprepared and uninformed force on the global stage. 

If the United States cannot even answer a simple question about its priorities, how can the world trust them to lead discussions on human rights? The international community must recognize this façade for what it is: a desperate attempt to maintain influence while ignoring its deep-seated problems.

[choicesarehard]

I keep my streams about Wolf Bride light-hearted. It’s been a hell of a year, and I think we all need a space where we can laugh together. But part of responsibly consuming problematic media is being aware of where it fails. And that’s why I think it’s important to talk about Morgan, and Wolf Bride’s troubling depiction of blindness. 

Morgan is one of the first Love Interests in Choices to have a canon disability. She is representation many players with disabilities, like myself, are eager for. But like any form of representation, writing a blind character requires research. A quick google search will lead you to numerous visually impaired voices who outline the tropes and stereotypes that harm their community. Wolf Bride has included nearly all of them. 

signal boosts are appreciated

Not All Blind People Wear Sunglasses

Morgan is shown wearing dark sunglasses from the moment she appears on screen. And there are certainly blind people who wear sunglasses — particularly those who (unlike Morgan) can still perceive some degree of light and dark, and experience painful light sensitivity. But no context is ever giving for Morgan’s use of sunglasses. In fact, they aren’t even addressed for four chapters. 

[ID: Two screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box over a forest background, and reads “You glance at Morgan, and are surprised to see the dark glasses still covering her eyes.” The second features a labeled image of her sunglasses, placed over a black background, with a selectable button that reads “What does Morgan look like without these?”] What follows is a scene Pixelberry could have used to provide insight into an assistive device the sighted community may not be entirely familiar with. They could have touched on degrees of visual impairment, or why some blind individuals need dark lenses while others don’t. They could even have explained that for some individuals with visual impairments, dark lenses make tasks like reading or navigating dimly lit spaces harder.  Instead, and far more troublingly, MC is given the option to ask Morgan not to wear them anymore. And depending on your choice, the book is coded to remove the sunglasses from her sprite in future scenes. This reduces an assistive device to a fashion choice, something our MC can wish away if they don’t find it attractive. And that isn’t okay. 

Unusual Eyes

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a forest background that reads “With a start, you realize her pale eyes aren’t looking at you, aren’t seeing you, aren’t seeing anything.” The second features Morgan’s sad sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “...I’ve been blind since birth.”] Morgan has a customizable sprite. But regardless of the ethnicity you select for her, she is depicted with pale blue eyes. And that troubles me. Because the stereotype that all blind individuals have cloudy, distorted, or unusual eyes is pervasive and harmful. 

Even when it isn’t tied to another harmful trope — the blind character as mystical seer or psychic — this stereotype create an expectation that blindness is something that always manifests in a visible way. And for millions of blind individuals, that isn’t the case. 

And while cataracts, trauma to the eye, and corneal infections can all cause the clouded effect most of us recognize from media, none turn your brown eyes into blue.  Heightened Senses

Another common stereotype in media is the blind character who’s remaining senses have become heightened as a compensatory mechanism, often to a supernatural degree.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features Morgan’s surprised sprite in a forest setting and a text box that reads “I guess I sort of...feel things. Like the place on my cheek where the branch blocked the wind.” The second features Morgan’s neutral sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “I can smell the dew on the leaves, and the moss on the bark. Can’t you?] Individuals with visual impairment may learn to rely on their other senses to navigate the world around them. But they do not suddenly gain the ability to sense the location of a branch based on wind patterns, or to accurately throw a dart at a carnival game ballon based on its smell. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a carnival background that reads “Pop! Pop! Pop! Three darts fly through the air, striking their targets.” The second features the white MC with straight blonde hair. Her sprite is surprised, and beneath it is a text box that reads “So you did that by smell, too?]

This trope may seem harmless — after all, it gave us Daredevil, a beloved blind superhero — but it contributes to the unachievable expectations we often place on real-world individuals with visually impairments. And that isn’t fair. 

Of course, we all suspected Morgan’s abilities were due to something other than heightened senses. And that in and of itself is a problem. 

Magical / Supernatural Abilities

To the surprise of no one, Morgan exhibits these unusual abilities because she is a werewolf. But choosing to give a blind character magical abilities should only be done after asking yourself some challenging questions. As visually-impaired Tumblr user @mimzy-writing-online explains:

Your blind characters don’t need a magical ability that negates their blindness. [Ask yourself why it’s so important to you to give them one]. If it’s because they can’t do all the things you want them to do without it, then should you really have written them as blind in the first place? 

And that’s the thing. Morgan isn’t actually written as a blind character, not when it counts. Morgan shoots bullets with accuracy, runs through unfamiliar terrain, and navigates moving objects with ease. She doesn’t use common assistive devices like canes or screen readers. Her sunglasses are discarded at MC’s request. The scientific papers that fill her research facility are not digitized for accessibility or written in braille. 

Even her dreams, which should be reflections of how she perceives reality, look identical to Bastien's — which makes no sense for someone who has been canonically blind since birth. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapters Five and Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a scene from Morgan’s lucid dream. Set in a glamorous hotel, it includes visual details like twinkling lights, and patterned carpets. The color is tinted a grey-blue and the exposure on the image has been increased to an unnatural level. The second features a scene from Bastien’s lucid dream. Set in a forest, it shares the same tinted and over-exposed qualities as the first.]

Her blindness isn’t an integral part of her character. Instead, it’s a narrative device, paraded in front of the reader when it can further a central — and deeply disturbing — plot point. [content warning: discussion of discrimination and child abuse / abandonment ahead]  Morgan Was Left to Die Because She Was Blind 

And Jesus, what a plot point it is. In Chapter 11, we learn that Morgan was left to die in the woods because she was born “wrong, sickly, blind.” But the only canonical disability or illness she is ever shown to have is her blindness. 

[ID: Three side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first two feature the white MC with straight blonde hair’s shocked sprite in front of a forest background. The first text box reads “I don’t understand...” followed by two dialogue options “Why was Morgan abandoned?” and “Is that what you do to full moon babies? Kill them?” The second panel’s read box reads “Just because she was blind?” The third panel features  the old woman Noemi’s sad sprite, placed over a forest background. Her text box reads “If we know an infant will not survive, it is best to let it die quickly.”]

I...am frankly having a hard time thinking through the screenshot-induced fury to make a coherent argument here. To imply that blindness is an impairment so limiting that death is the only foreseeable outcome? That being born blind somehow makes a child “wrong”? The ignorance and prejudice shown in this scene is staggering. 

But equally troubling is the response of the main characters to this revelation. Yes, in fiction, bad people sometimes do bad things. But Noemi isn’t shown to be a bad person. Neither is Bastien, who knew what his pack had been guilty of in the past, and even seeks to justify it to a limited degree. 

Most shockingly, Morgan herself, who in the second screenshot below has just overheard that she was left to die as an infant because she is blind, isn’t angry or upset. She’s almost apologetic, still seeking a place within the pack. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first features Hispanic Bastien’s sad sprite in front of a forest background. The text box beneath him reads “It doesn’t happen often, Clara, but...” The second features white Morgan’s sad sprite in front of the same forest background. The text box beneath her reads “I didn’t mean any harm. Especially after...what I just overheard.”]

By introducing the idea that a child born blind cannot survive, let alone thrive, without superhuman abilities, and then failing to soundly and thoroughly refute that idea through the characters we identify with, Pixelberry is unintentionally perpetuating the same false beliefs that have led to real-world instances of infanticide for centuries. And that isn’t okay. 

I don’t know where Pixelberry will go with the story from here. Perhaps in today’s chapter some of these concerns have been addressed...but I doubt it. In the meantime, I’ve also written to their support staff to express my deep concern and disappointment in the treatment of Morgan’s character. And I’d encourage you to do the same. 

Will I continue to keep streaming Wolf Bride? For now, yes. My VIP subscription is already paid for, and frankly, I want to see Morgan’s arc through. I guess the small part of me that was excited for the representation is still hopeful the narrative can be corrected. 

But I’ll be adding a content warning at the start of each stream for ablism, and that’s something I never thought I’d have to do.  Screenshots courtesy of CrimsonFeatherGames on Youtube

[corpseblouse]

dumb little baby

warnings!!: hard dom!iwa, face fucking, aheago face, c!nt slapping, choking, spit kink, hair pulling, mating press, dacryphilia, dumbification, minor size kink

includes: f!reader, hajime iwaizumi

a/n: also, this is my first time writing a smut so pls be nice to me :)

navigation

you feel your cheeks flush, noticing the prominent bulge in iwaizumi’s pants. you look up from the floor with a small smile on your face, the grip on the back of your hair getting tighter.

iwaizumi is towering over you, lips pulled into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed, and a red tint to the top of his ears and cheeks.

he yanks your head back, eliciting a guttural whine from the back of your throat, “look at you, staring at my cock with that dumb fucking look on your face,” you feel his hand reach down and squeeze your jaw, ultimately opening your mouth. you take it upon yourself to slowly bring your tongue out begging for his spit to coat your tongue, but too shy to say anything.

iwaizumi scoffs and let’s go of your jaw, smacking your right cheek, “if you want something, use your words dumb slut.” you whimper, slightly shying away from his hard gaze. you feel his hand lightly tap your cheek, silently telling you to open your mouth wider. your smile grows, knowing you’re going to get what you’ve been wanting.

“aww, does the dumb little baby not know how to use her words?” he coos with faux sympathy laced into his words.

“i guess i have to give you what you want in order for you to stop fucking whining.” you clench your thighs together, listening to the way his tone falls octaves lower with each passing second.

you let your mouth go slack, pushing your tongue farther out. iwaizumi rolls his eyes while collecting spit into his mouth. your eyes roll to the back of your head, hearing the lewd noise of iwaizumi spitting into your mouth. “don’t fucking swallow.” he demands, you keep your mouth open, tongue wet with both his and your spit. it was truly a sight seeing the way your tongue was slowly dripping with his spit, iwaizumi knew he had to ruin you. you look up at him with pleading eyes, wanting to feel the taste of him linger in your mouth but knowing he won’t go easy on you.

“look at you, you’re such a messy little thing,” you whine, still not wanting to verbally ask for what you want.

“stop fucking whining, slut.” he says as let’s go of the back of your head. iwaizumi begins to unbuckle his pants and your mouth waters at the slight wet spot found on the front of his boxers. he slips his cock out, stroking it in front of your face.

his cock was something he surely took pride in, it was thick and long with a large vein running underneath. the tip of his cock was always a beet red and is extremely sensitive, especially after orgasming more than once.

often times, you would find yourself begging for, “just the tip.” because you adored how needy he would become to push the entirety of his length inside of you. but, of course respecting his baby’s wishes, he stretches you out with the tip of his cock while rubbing your swollen bud; hoping to elicit orgasm after orgasm out of you, even if it took all his will power.

you notice precum slightly leaking from the red tip of his cock, his thumb gathers it from the head and spreads it down the shaft. you make eye contact with him, wanting it in your mouth.

he grabs the sides of your face, pulling you towards his length. you keep your mouth open, anticipating his cock entering your awaiting mouth.

“keep your slutty mouth open and your head still,” he grunts, thrusting his cock into your mouth.

you shut your eyes, fighting the tears threatening to fall down your face, and a violent gag rising up your throat. his grip around your head tightens as he stares at your face, tears are rolling down your cheeks, spit drooling out of your mouth, and your cheeks and neck are adorned with a slight pink tint.

it was quite a filthy sight for iwaizumi, he took a moment to relish in how stupid you went for his cock. eyes crossing, tears streaking down your face, drool dripping down your chin, and his hard cock in your mouth.

“fuck,” he groans, snapping out of his haze.

he pulls his cock almost all the way out, tip still lodged between your lips, and snaps his hips back at your face.

you tightly hold your thumb into your fist, trying to alleviate the gag fighting it’s way up your throat from iwaizumi’s cock constantly pushing past your gag reflex. your eyes begin to blur with tears as iwaizumi pushes farther down your throat.

he growls, pulling your head back slipping his cock out of your mouth. you gasp for air, constantly blinking back tears desperately hoping you’re able to see his aroused face.

his flushed cheeks grow darker witnessing your doe eyes staring up at him with a fucked out face, he can’t help thinking about how stupid you’ll look being fucked wide open on his cock.

you feel yourself zoning out, staring at his throbbing cock. the head’s an angry red with beads of pre-cum dripping out of the tip. you lean your head forward, trying to lick at the tip, but you’re instead met with a sting on your right cheek.

“get up, and get on the bed,” he groans out, your eyes travel up his toned body where you meet each other’s eyes.

you get up from the floor and lay yourself onto the plush bed on your back, you clench your thighs together needing to alleviate the throbbing of your core.

iwaizumi kneels on the bed, placing his hand on your knee roughly separating it from the other. he catches the sight of your dripping c!nt, slick from the man handling and rough face fucking.

his thumb finds your cl!t easily, calloused finger rubbing the bud in slow circles. you keen, finally feeling some relief from the small amount of pleasure he’s providing for you.

he sits back on the back of his calves, admiring how your juices flow out of you in an obscene way. his eyes travel up to your breasts, noticing your n!pples hardening from your arousal.

he snaps out of his daze, slightly raises his hand up and smacks it onto your hardening cl!t. the slap makes a lewd noise from the constant arousal drooling from your quivering hole; the mixture of pain and pleasure causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

“you liked that, huh?” he teases.

“such a dirty slut, you like when i rough you up like a little slut?” you whine and nod in response, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

not being satisfied with your answer, he raises his hand again and slaps it back down onto your c!nt with much more force this time. you feel your lower half jump out of surprise, silently begging for more stimulation.

“i asked you a question, use your words and answer me.“ he growls out, much more frustrated than before.

you whine, meeting his eyes and shying away not having the confidence to say anything.

“yes,” you meekly whisper out.

“louder.“ he presses, slapping your c!nt once again. you try to push your thighs together, feeling your high coming faster than you expected. iwaizumi growls, roughly grabbing the back of your thighs and forces them back open.

“yes! i like it!” you say, this time much louder and with a newfound confidence in your voice.

“good girl,” you smile, finally getting the praise you’ve been wanting.

iawaizumi pulls his hand away from your c!nt, spreading your juices onto his cock. you whine, missing his touch, which results in him grabbing your chin roughly prying your mouth open.

iwaizumi, once again, spits in your mouth but this time let’s you swallow to give you some satisfaction while he preps his cock for your awaiting hole.

he lets go of your face, lining up his cock with your entrance.

iwaizumi purposefully didn’t prep you, because he knows you like to feel the stretch of his cock entering your tight c!nt. that’s just how much of a slut you are for him.

he brings your legs up, knees touching your chest painfully, and slowly pushes his tip inside of you. you already feel your walls straining around the head of his cock, trying to stretch around him to fit.

“come on baby, let me in, relax.” he coos into your ear.

you feel his abdomen lightly graze your clit, causing you to cry out at the little contact you receive.

“that’s it, let me in baby,” he pushes himself in deeper, ignoring your whimpers and cries.

“p-please.” you whine out, feeling the coil in your stomach slowly start to tighten painfully. iwaizumi feels your c!nt fluttering around him, squeezing him incredibly tight.

“are you about to fucking cum?” he chuckles out. you whimper, nodding your head but barely keeping the tears from falling from your eyes. his big hands press against your abdomen, thumb finding your clit, and starts rolling the bud between his finger, increasing the pace gradually.

he continues pushing himself inside, enjoying your spasming c!nt sucking him inside and your already fucked out face.

“come on, baby. cum for me.” his fingers speed up at the same time as his hips meet yours.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you come undone around his cock. the orgasm left your ears slightly ringing, and your poor cl!t swollen under his touch.

the aftershocks of your orgasm almost send iwaizumi over the edge, but he holds himself together wanting to properly fuck you silly.

not waiting for you to come down from your high, iwaizumi wraps his hand around your throat effectively cutting off the blood flow to your head.

he starts off with a brutal pace, not showing any mercy to your sensitive c!nt. you feel the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, bringing you the mix of pain and pleasure that you can’t get enough of.

“right there!” you almost scream out, not recognizing your own voice. he growls, pistoning his hips into the one spot that has your eyes crossing and c!nt drooling non stop.

his hand squeezes your throat a little tighter, making you lightheaded. you start babbling nonsense that even you couldn’t understand, but iwaizumi feels satisfied with how fucked out you’ve become.

“aw, look at that, the poor little baby can’t even speak properly,” he mocks, pounding his hips a little harder into you.

“have i fucked you that silly? you have that dumb fucked out look on your face.” he lets go of your throat and chuckles as you desperately gasp for air. he feels your c!nt fluttering again, knowing you’re close to your second orgasm of the night.

“who’s my little slut? say it for me baby,” he says as you moan out, reaching a hand down between your legs and touching your needy cl!t.

“i-i’m your little slut.” you yell, squeezing around him unbearably tight feeling your high coming faster as the seconds pass.

“good girl, such a good little girl for me. now come for me.” he growls, feeling his own high coming too.

you finally feel the coil in your abdomen snap, letting your orgasm wrack through your body. the hand on your clit is still rubbing furiously, desperately trying to ride out the high. iwaizumi stills inside you, watching your juices gush out of you and onto the sheets was enough for him to cum inside of you.

you both come down from your highs. you, a fucked out mess, and iwaizumi still incredibly hard from watching as his cum mixed with yours flowed out after slipping his cock out.

you both knew the night was far from over.

© all works belong to corpseblouse 2021, do not repost or modify.

[marjansmarwani]

we won the cosmic lottery

2.1k || ao3

When Mya convinces Carlos to try speed dating on what would otherwise be a lonely Valentine’s Day, he’s pretty sure it’s going to be a disaster. Until a man who manages to light up his world with one look slides into the seat before him, that is. Suddenly he’s feeling a lot more optimistic.

Or, Tarlos Alternate First Meeting: Speed Dating Edition

I wrote fluff again and I am probably more surprised than you are. 

But I found this prompt from @madamewriterofwrongs in my inbox from several months ago and figured why not write a Valentine’s Day fic and try to stretch those fluff muscles again. Beta’d by @officereyes 💕 

-----------

As bad ideas went, Carlos was pretty sure this was one. 

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.” 

“What, you had other hot plans for Valentine’s Day?” Mya asked him, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him over her drink. 

“No,” Carlos admitted, “but that doesn’t mean this was the correct alternative.” 

“Why not? You’ll waste an hour of your life, talk to some people, come out with some good stories if nothing else. I think it sounds like the perfect alternative to spending the night home alone with Netflix.” 

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he told her, tipping his glass to her before taking another drink.

“I have tried it Carlos, far too many times. You have too - that’s why we’re here.” 

“To get a look at Austin’s future serial killers?” 

Mya rolled her eyes at him before lightly smacking his arm with her clutch, “No, Officer Buzzkill. We’re here for a chance to maybe meet Mr. or Ms. Right.” 

Carlos twisted on his stool to survey the crowd gathered in the reserved section of the bar. He typically didn’t like to make assumptions without at least trying to get to know someone first, but he could honestly say that none of the men in the crowd even gave him the slightest glimmer of hope for the evening. He should have stayed home. 

He turned back to Mya with a dubious expression and she rolled her eyes again, “Lighten up Carlos, at the very least it can’t hurt.”

Carlos cast a glance back to one guy who was leering at him from the other side of the room and grimaced, “I’m not too sure about that.” 

His partner opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by someone grabbing a microphone and calling the crowd to attention. 

“Good evening lonely hearts!” the host said once the din of the crowd had died down. Carlos shot Mya a look but she ignored him. 

“We’re going to get started here in a few minutes,” the host continued, “but before we start moving I just wanted to go over the specifics. Upon checking in you were given a bracelet. These are to help with the logistics. If you received a red bracelet you will be taking a seat at any of the open tables. If you got a pink one you will be rotating between the tables.”

Carlos glanced down at his wrist to see a red bracelet sitting there. Mya held up her own wrist to show another red one, “Looks like we both get to have people come to us tonight.” 

Carlos chuckled at her before turning his attention back to the host, who was still explaining the rules. 

“When the bell dings, you will rotate to the table to your right. You will have 3 minutes with each potential suitor and when the bell rings, you will move to the next one. Make sure that you write down their number and check yes or no before you part on the card provided - that’s how we will be pairing you! At the end of the evening we will be comparing all the lists and you will receive a list of the names and contact info of any suitors you mutually matched with to the email provided. After that, the ball is in your court! So make sure you make the most of these three minutes; it could be the time you find your soulmate!” 

The room filled with polite clapping and Carlos turned again to Mya, “You can’t be serious.” 

“Lighten up Reyes,” she said with a wink, “you wouldn’t want to scare your potential soulmate away.” 

“Fine, I’ll ‘lighten up’. But if one of these creeps murders me to make a skin suit, I’m holding you personally responsible.” 

“I don’t believe in ghosts so your threats have no effect on me.” 

There were several more things he wanted to say to his partner, but he was interrupted by the sound of the host telling them all to head to their respective areas. As they went to stand up, Mya reached out to touch his arm, “it’s going to be fine Carlos, really. You’ve got this; try to have some fun for once.” 

Her tone and expression were much more gentle than before and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, “Thanks Mya,” he replied with a grateful smile. “Now go find Ms. Right.” 

She matched his smile and with a wave, she was gone. Carlos took another steady breath and headed to the guy’s section of the room, taking a seat at one of the tables. He pulled the card out of his jacket pocket and picked up one of the pencils waiting on the table, twirling it through his fingers anxiously. And when the first contender of the night slid into the seat before him he forced on a warm smile and held out his hand in greeting. Mya was right, he had this. 

--------

7 dates later he was less sure he had this. 

They hadn’t all been creeps, per se (though numbers 2 and 6 definitely had been) but they also hadn’t done anything to elicit any kind of spark in Carlos. They had been nice enough and reasonably good looking, but Carlos had decided a long time ago that good enough wasn’t worth the effort. If he was going to try and make a go of something with someone, they had to be someone who made him feel something. It had to be worth the risk. 

He was contemplating his abysmal luck when the next guy slid into the chair across from him. Carlos looked up and all coherent thoughts fled his head. This guy was... gorgeous was the only word Carlos could come up with that did him justice. Everything about him was perfect and Carlos couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

He eventually noticed the extended hand in what he sincerely hoped was a normal amount of time and took it, still studying him as he blurted out the first thought that came to mind: “I didn’t see you here before.” 

He definitely hadn’t been here when things were starting, Carlos would have noticed him in a crowd, he was absolutely sure about that. The other man smiled sheepishly, “yeah, I got here a bit late. I was trying to convince myself to actually come. My friends had to practically push me in the door.” 

Carlos chuckled, “My friend had to pretty much drag me here with her. Are your friends here?” 

“They’re at a bar down the street for ‘moral support’,” he responded with an eye roll, but a fond expression. 

“That’s so helpful.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

They both laughed again before Carlos suddenly realized they had yet to even exchange names, “I’m Carlos, by the way.” 

“TK, nice to meet you.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Does it stand for something?” 

TK grinned at him coyly, “It does, but that’s at least a level 4 backstory, and we’re barely at level one.” 

Carlos grinned back, feeling the quip come easily despite the butterflies definitely fluttering in his stomach, “Well, we’ve got some time to work on that. Personally though I recommend we skip over levels 1 and 2, those are mundane at best.” 

TK’s green eyes lit up as he laughed. The sound sent a shock through Carlos’s entire body and in that moment, Carlos decided he had been wrong. He owed Mya an apology: this had been an excellent idea after all. 

-----

His three minutes with TK had not been nearly long enough. When the bell had dinged he had nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been so absorbed in their conversation he hadn't noticed the passage of time. It felt like they had been talking all night, but also as if they had barely begun to talk at all. 

TK gave him an apologetic smile as he stood from his chair, “I guess that’s my cue. It was really nice talking to you though, Carlos.”

“Yeah, you too,” he responded. He hesitated for a moment as he studied the other man. In only three minutes he had felt more of a connection with TK than he had with people he had dated for weeks. Maybe it was that they were both first responders, maybe it was something else, but he wasn’t ready to let this go. So many things were mysteries, but Carlos knew one thing for sure: if he let TK walk away from him tonight, he might just end up regretting it for the rest of his life. 

“Would you maybe like to catch up when we’re done here? Maybe get a drink, talk some more?” 

TK paused mid-stride, raising an eyebrow, “You still have two more dates left, how do you know you won’t want to spend the evening with them instead?” 

“Call it intuition.” 

He could call it intuition or blind hope or desperation if he wanted, Carlos really didn’t care. He just knew in his gut that it was right, that TK was someone he needed to get to know more. TK was still considering him, and Carlos anxiously awaited his verdict. This was so far outside of his comfort zone and he was pretty sure that if TK turned him down he was going to head back to his condo tonight and not leave for at least two days, too buried in embarrassment and shame to face the outside world. But this felt worth the risk; he just hoped he hadn’t read these feelings wrong. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime passing in the moment of a breath, TK smiled. “I’d like that,” he said, “I guess bachelors 9 and 10 are out of luck for both of us then.” 

“Try to let them down easy.” 

TK laughed again, squeezing his shoulder as he walked away, “As long as you promise to do the same—getting turned down by you would be a tough pill to swallow, Carlos. Try to break their hearts gently.”  

-------

Carlos was still feeling the euphoria of TK’s smile 10 minutes later when a figure slid into the seat next to him at the bar. He turned eagerly, ready to see TK’s eyes again and felt disappointment, followed by instant guilt, when it wasn’t TK but Mya occupying the seat next to him. 

“Well that was a waste of time,” she declared as she slumped forward onto the bar, “you were right. I shouldn’t have dragged you here, I’m sorry. Wanna go get tacos at that truck you love to drown our sorrows?” 

“Actually,” Carlos began, but their conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone calling his same from behind them. They turned in tandem and Carlos felt his heart beat just a little faster at the sight of TK, who was looking between him and Mya. 

“Hey Carlos, I just wanted to see if you were ready for that drink yet. If you’re not we can...” 

Mya interrupted before TK could finish his sentence, “I was just leaving, actually. I’m Mya, by the way—Carlos’s partner and friend.” 

TK turned his gorgeous smile on her and held out a hand, “TK Strand, nice to meet you.” 

“TK’s a firefighter,” Carlos told Mya, biting back a smile as she raised an eyebrow and TK nodded, “I’m with the 126.”

“Well, TK Strand with the 126, take good care of my partner here. He’s pretty special.” 

“I’ve already gotten that feeling,” TK agreed, giving Carlos another grin that he felt straight through to his soul. 

Mya smirked as she stood from her seat, looking between them as she pulled out her keys, “I’d say have a good rest of the night, but I think that’s already a given. I’ll see you on Monday Carlos, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“And that would be what, exactly?” 

Mya shrugged as she started to walk away, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” 

“Text me when you get home!” he called after her. 

“Yes mom!” she called back as she reached the door. Before she opened it to head out into the Austin night she turned one more time and shot him a smile and a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes fondly, but nodded. Then she was gone and he turned all of his attention to the man beside him. He was grinning too and Carlos was starting to get the feeling that he might never get used to the things that smile did to him.  

TK slid into Mya’s abandoned seat and leaned closer to him, “So where do we start?” 

Carlos smiled back and waved down the bartender to get drinks for them. He wasn’t sure where to begin, but he had a feeling wherever it was would be the beginning of something great. He turned and caught TK’s eyes again, savoring the warmth that emanated from them. 

Tonight may have started out feeling like a mistake, but he was starting to think it may have actually been more like fate. 

[moonbeamsung]

Bad Dracula

I have no intention of scaring you, baby~

member: jaemin

au: vampire!jaemin x gn!reader, supernatural au

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff, a little angst, slightly suggestive

warnings: mentions of blood, kissing, implied strict parenting

recommended song: bad dracula by red velvet

author’s note: Based on the song above. This was so much fun to write and I thought it fit well with the time of year, so enjoy!

The dance floor in the large ballroom pulses with energy and vibrations from the DJ booth at the far end of it. It’s packed, so much so that all the people, all the shuffling pairs of shoes, threaten to overflow from the carefully manicured tiles on the ground and into the remainder of the space. This poses a problem considering there isn’t much, due to the dozens upon dozens of fancily decorated round tables scattered throughout the brightly lit chamber, some empty as their occupants sway to the beat of the music and others full with those still finishing their exquisitely prepared meals.

Dancing close to the edge of the massive crowd, you catch sight of the moon’s reflection on the polished floor, oddly clear. A strange feeling starts to overtake you as you continue to gaze at it, physically compelling you to raise your eyes. When you do, there’s a devilishly handsome stranger you’ve never seen before leaning against the wall, directly across from you. The moonlight spilling in through the glass casts a haunting shadow on his chiseled features, but your heart stops when the sliver of a fang peeks out from between his lips, gleaming a blinding white.

How no one else notices him, you’re not sure. What you do know, however, is that he’s definitely bad news.

...Right?

Your gut pinches at the thought, the silent signal begging you to correct your instant judgement based solely on his appearance. How could you possibly be wrong, though? He’s a vampire, for goodness’ sake! You’ve been lectured and warned enough times to remember that they’re always up to no good.

The inner dilemma going on in your mind causes you to stare blankly, zoned out and unaware that your focus is drilling into the boy. Amused, he waits for you to realize this.

Eyes blown wide with surprise, you whirl around to weave in and out of the throng of people, making your way to the center of the crowd in a pathetic attempt to undo what just happened. Attention trained on the ground, a pair of shiny black dress shoes come into your line of sight.

There’s that feeling again. You don’t want to, you fight the urge this time, but trying to resist the supernatural pull makes your head ache. Bracing yourself, you unwillingly lift your eyes again, tracing the length of his figure from the hem of his dress pants all the way up to the lapel of his suit. The wine-colored ensemble seems fitting, considering the craving vampires instinctively harbor for a similarly colored substance.

His looks are even more striking up close. The allure he possesses is something otherworldly, and he has to repeat himself for you to realize he’s speaking to you. “My name is Jaemin, and you are...?” He questions, the lilt of his voice silky and seductive. Stammering a somewhat coherent response, you freeze when his cold fingers grasp your wrist, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your trembling knuckles.

“Shall we dance?” It’s a statement, not a request, and not wanting to cause a scene, you make no attempts to protest. You get lost in the way his arms feel wrapped around you, every so often being twirled by the graceful movements of his hand.

Your eyes lock with his and they put you in an inescapable trance, casting a spell on your mind until the moment that he breaks the contact, glancing almost worriedly at something over your shoulder. He returns his gaze to yours as quickly as he removed it, and the enrapturing haze settles in around you once more.

For the final minute of your dance, he brings you closer than you’ve ever been to him before, head resting firmly against his chest. A triumphant feeling of rebellion bubbles up inside of you knowing that you’d be in big trouble if your parents could see you right now, in the arms of an enchanting vampire. The mere act of associating with one would be enough for them to explode with fury, so going even further than that would surely elicit a wrath of pure, unadulterated rage.

The song ends, its slow tempo coming to a stop before being replaced by a much peppier tune.

Most of your fright forgotten for the time being, you’re more curious than anything else when he begins to drag you away from the center of the ballroom, pulling you with urgency and a force that completely contrasts with the gentleness of his touches as you danced together. Stepping out from the crowd, he leads you around to the other side of the wide marble staircase, ducking to stand behind a pristine white column that extends all the way up to the heightened ceiling. It dawns on you now that he could actually be dangerous, and all the fear comes flooding back to you.

Jaemin sees it too, the way your pupils dilate to indicate your terror of the situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your terror of him. You’re about to cry out when he stops you by covering your mouth with his hand, the low temperature of his skin startling you even more, and you wince.

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers hastily, panicked. You take notice of the instant change in his demeanor but it does nothing to calm you down. “It’s alright, don’t freak out, okay?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he breathes, finally providing you with some sort of relief. You relax a little under his hold, still cautious but deciding to give him a chance. Slowly, he removes his palm from your lips, allowing you to speak.

“What do you want with me, then?”

Glancing around with that same look of anxiousness on his face, he leans in, murmuring into your ear with every word.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but I’m a vampire. I come from a whole family of them. My parents brought me here tonight to... uh, well, you’ve heard the stories. They want me to find someone with the best blood to drink.”

Come to think of it, you do recall seeing a carriage parked outside, black as night and delicately carved like it came from the darkest depths of the underworld. Must’ve been his, you realize.

“And that’s me because...?” You interrupt his explanation, causing him to wave a hand in the air, exasperated.

“Let me finish, okay? The thing is, vampires drink blood but it’s not the only thing we need to survive. In fact, we don’t even need it. Over time we’ve found ways to get the same nutrients in other ways and from other things. Some of us still do it for tradition’s sake. And my family is all about preserving history.”

Inhaling sharply, he continues. “But I... I can’t do it. Not only does it feel morally wrong, but I get sick just thinking about it. On nights like this, I just have to find a way to lie about finding some.”

“That’s,” he leans back to point a finger at you, “where you come in, angel. We just have to make it look like I took some of your blood, and that will be enough to satisfy my parents for a while.”

Too stunned to speak, you gape at Jaemin, leaving him waiting for your answer, wondering whether you’ll commit or not.

“Wow.”

“I understand if you don’t want to help, I can always find someone—”

“You are nothing like who I thought you were.”

Jaemin’s pale skin flushes with a color you’re not sure even exists before he beams at you. A few minutes ago, you would never have guessed the mysterious man leaning against the wall could smile this brightly. “Not all of us are bloodthirsty monsters.”

“I’m sorry I was afraid of you,” you tell him, looking down at the floor with a guilty expression.

“It’s not your fault, you had every right to be.”

“...Hold on, what was all that out there?” You accuse, brows raised in slight suspicion and a hip tilted to the side as you await an explanation.

“What do you mean, ‘all that?’”

“I mean the dance! I mean the way you introduced yourself, the way you spoke, everything... You were so cold, so intimidating. But you’re acting so different now.”

“All to put on a show for my parents, sweetheart.”

Blushing like mad, you shake your head as you remember the reason why you’re back here with him in the first place. “I’ll do it,” you say, heart fluttering at the way his eyes light up with gratitude.

“Really? You will? Thank you! Thank you so much...” he trails off, and you find the excitement in his voice adorable.

“So, how do we do this?” You ponder for a moment, tapping your shoe against the floor before an idea comes to you. “You don’t mind ketchup, do you?”

Jaemin knows what you’re getting at, nodding. “I don’t have a problem with it, so that should work fine.”

“But... how close are they going to look? Would a bite mark make it more realistic?”

Considering your words, Jaemin’s tongue darts out to lick at one of his sharp fangs, the action drawing your gaze down to them.

“You’re probably right...”

Closing your eyes and straightening your posture, you tilt your head to one side, exposing your neck. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

Here goes nothing, Jaemin thinks to himself. Only he doesn’t aim for your neck.

When you feel his lips on yours you’re startled to say the least, but just like when he danced with you, you don’t pull away. The kiss is a delicious secret, only for the two of you to know about and no one else. Instead of ice his hands are like fire on your skin, and the sleeves of his satin suit jacket feel heavenly against your arms as they cling to his shoulders for dear life. It’s so intense, so heated and passionate a kiss that you feel yourself back up against the pillar you’ve been hiding behind all this time.

Not wanting anyone to get suspicious about what’s taking so long, Jaemin reluctantly separates his lips from yours and drags them across your skin, down past your jaw to halt at your neck. The magic bestowed upon all vampires gives him the power to temporarily restrict the ability of his fangs to take blood, rendering them harmless. Once he’s done this, he sinks them into the spot above your collarbone just far enough to leave an impression, eliciting a small whine from your lips but nothing more.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” you pant, taking heavy breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth while you wait to regain the strength you lost in the moment. It’s funny, you think. He didn’t take any of your blood, so why do you feel so dizzy?

Jaemin chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face since it had become slightly tousled during the kiss. His eyes widen in sudden realization and he snaps his fingers, “The ketchup!”

“Right!” You exclaim, hurriedly running over to the nearest deserted table and grabbing a single packet.

Tearing the corner, you squeeze a small dot of the condiment onto your finger before smearing it onto the skin below his lips, making it look as if it’s dripping from the edge of his mouth. Jaemin takes it from you and does the same, the red smudge complimenting the bite mark he left on your neck quite nicely, if he says so himself.

Leading you back around the staircase, Jaemin shares a second dance with you in the middle of the ballroom, and this time you’re both more comfortable with each other. From across the room, his parents’ enhanced senses of sight allow them to see your stained skin, humming in approval at their son’s apparent obedience.

“Will I see you again?” You ask in a soft voice, wavering at the possibility of losing the new friend, and maybe something more, you’ve made tonight.

“I don’t know, my dear,” Jaemin admits. “But I’ll try.”

Smiling lovingly up at him, you sigh, the three words you so desperately want to utter on the very tip of your tongue, but you feel it’s a little too soon. One day, you tell yourself.

Hidden amongst the crowd, he ducks down a little to steal a final kiss before a tall figure that’s probably his mother whisks him away and into the distance. You exchange longing glances before he’s forced to turn around, walking completely out of sight.

Taking long strides at an inhuman pace between both of his parents, Jaemin grins to himself, thinking of you and how amazing you looked tonight in that elegant outfit of yours.

From beside him, his father sniffs the air, pale nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Is that ketchup?!”

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.8K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

-

PART 7

Everyone around the table discussed their holiday plans. You managed to slip out of the Hufflepuff table and you were sitting comfortably with the Gryffindors. Hermione and Harry gushed about missing Mrs. Weasley and her positive energy. They talked about last Christmas and how festive the Burrow was. 

“It’s more festive than Hogwarts, if you could believe that!” Fred would exclaim every year. You knew it was probably true. You felt like the ambience of the Weasley home made the holidays feel even better than the expensive decorations of Hogwarts. That’s what the holidays are about, anyway: family, celebration, comfort. 

This year was a bit different. Usually you’d spend your holidays with Cedric and his father. You’d wake up on Christmas day with Cedric silently reading at the foot of your bed- he always woke up at the first sign of light during the holidays. He’d have two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with crushed candy canes and whipped cream. He’d never touch his, no matter how tempted he was to do so, just so he could take his first sip with you. You’d exchange presents in your room, savoring your alone time before Mr. Diggory would barge into your room with Christmas pancakes and you three would happily skip downstairs where you celebrated for the day. Then, when the snow fell, you’d make them watch Muggle holiday movies and Cedric would question exactly why Muggles always made their lives more difficult than needed. 

But now you don’t have Cedric and it would be awkward to spend it with his father. It wasn’t the same. You decided to stay in school for the holidays, not really knowing where else to go. 

Fred waved his hands in front of your face, “Helloooo, Y/N?”

“Yes, Fred?” 

“We asked what you’re doing for the holidays.” Hermione asked, taking a sip of her drink. 

You shrugged, picking at the food on your plate, “I’m staying here for the holidays. I usually spend it with the Diggory’s but well, y’know..”

“Nonsense! You can spend it with us!” George grinned.

“Mother and father wouldn’t mind.” Fred added on. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You blushed, a sheepish look on your face. 

“Hermione and Harry intrude every year.” Ron chuckled, wincing in pain when Hermione hit his arm. “If you’d let me finish, Merlin, Hermione. You’ve got a heavy hand. Anyway, we love their intrusion every year. You should come.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked, making sure that they weren’t just saying it out of pity. 

“Well, of course!” Fred said. “There’s nothing like a Weasley Christmas.” 

You nodded, happy that you didn’t have to spend it alone. It would be a bit odd this year not having Cedric beside you. But things were changing and you knew you had to adapt. Things were never going to be the same. Things were different now. 

Speaking of different- things between you and Draco changed ever since the day you saw him with Myrtle. You two didn’t speak on it, but deep down you both knew something about each other that neither of you expected to learn. There’s this energy between you and Draco that you couldn’t put your finger on. Every time he walked past you and your friends, he’d offer a warm smile and a small wave of acknowledgement. He stopped teasing the Trio and even snickered at some of the twins’ jokes at times, but only when nobody but you was paying attention to him. He’d greet you when he sits behind you in Potions, not scared to ask you for help when he needs it. Sometimes you even catch him staring in the Great Hall. You’ve gotten used to his lingering eyes. 

That’s why it felt like there was something missing when you searched for the blond in the Great Hall during dinner and found him nowhere. Usually he’d be sitting beside Crabbe and Goyle, picking at his food and offering patient laughs at Crabbe’s jokes. Tonight, however, he was missing from his usual spot, his absence obviously taking a toll on the Slytherin table. You searched for him, twisting and turning your body to see if he decided to sit somewhere else for once. Draco was nowhere to be found. 

George finished his joke and the entire table roared in laughter, bringing you back to your present conversations. Ron had to clasp a hand over his mouth to stop him from spitting out his drink, finding his brothers’ jokes so hilarious. Hermione sat beside you, her head thrown back in laughter, directly parallel from Harry, who hid his face in the crease of his elbow. Fred sat across from you, eyebrows furrowing once he noticed that you weren’t present in the conversation. 

“You alright there, Y/N?” He whispered, trying not to cause attention. The rest of the group continued on, oblivious to your conversation. 

“I’m fine.” You lied, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Just tired.” 

You knew Fred didn’t buy it. He knew you too well but he nodded anyway and cleared his throat, “You should go up and rest, Y/N.”

You thanked him silently, knowing that the rest of the group heard it. You didn’t have to explain yourself to the rest of them now that Fred has your back. You said your goodbye’s and was met with farewells as you walked out of the Great Hall. You didn’t even know where you’re heading. Hell, you didn’t even know if Draco was still on school grounds. You didn’t have classes with him today. 

You turned the corner, seeing a few people scattered all over the place. None of them sported the blond hair that you’re searching for. You saw a few Slytherin robes tucked in the crevices of the castle, kissing noises echoing in the space. You grimaced and stayed away from them. 

“Are you looking for Draco?”

You turned your head like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes fell on Luna, who sat on the floor with a book on her lap. Her eyes twinkled under the lights, her voice soft and pure. You replied, “Am I that obvious?” 

“No,” She reassured. “I’m just observant.” 

You blushed, unable to form a coherent sentence in response. “Yeah, uhm… have you seen him?”

“Yes I have. He went towards the Astronomy Tower after Charms.” She stood up, dusting off her robe as she pointed to the direction of the tower. “I haven’t seen him pass by since then.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say back. “Alright. Well, thank you, Luna.”

You took a few steps towards the direction of the Tower, mentally cursing yourself for staring at Draco so obviously. Luna called for you one more time before you disappeared from her vision. You turned and she smiled at you, “Don’t wait too long this time around.” 

Her words rung in your head. What did she mean by that? The whole time to the tower, you pondered what her words meant. You were so focused on thought that you almost missed the entrance to the staircase, having to walk backwards to get to the right destination. You walked up, trying to be as quiet as possible, just in case there was a teacher there ready to get you in trouble. 

Once you reached the top, you felt a sense of relief wash over you when you saw the head of blond you’ve been searching for, leaning against the barricade, the same way he was the first time you saw him up here. There were tear stains on his cheeks, eyes bloodshot red. His lips were bright pink, quivering ever so slightly. You didn’t know if it was because of the cold or because of his emotions. Or maybe both. 

“Draco?” You called, emerging from the stairs. 

Draco faced you, eyes widening when he realized you found him. He quickly wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, subconsciously tugging on it as he approached you towards the middle of the room. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t there at dinner.” You stated simply. You watched him fidget with his robe, uncomfortable that you found him during one of his most vulnerable moments. “I got a little worried.” 

“I’m fine.” He dismissed, sniffling. He bit his bottom lip, walking back to where he first stood. “You’re like the fifth person to walk up here. I guess it’s not as secret as I thought.” 

You let out a chuckle, following his footsteps and planting yourself beside him. You watched him hold back tears, nostrils flaring to keep his tears at bay. “Are you okay, Draco?”

He looked at you, a lopsided smile making its way to his lips. His eyes, however, were screaming, begging for help. It was a miserable sight. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Out of habit, you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He tensed under your touch, freezing as if your touch burned him. Draco looked at your hand on his body as if he’s never been touched like this before. You rubbed your thumb against his robe, watching as he relaxed under your touch. He let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes for a brief second. 

“It’s okay if you’re not okay.” 

“Okay.” 

A comfortable silence fell upon the both of you. You recalled your hand after a few moments, not missing the way he followed it, missing the comfort it provided him already. Draco stared off into the skyline, eyes counting the stars that were bright enough to see. He counted them like sheep to help him calm down. You stared at him, admiring his features.

Draco was really handsome, you knew that, but this was the first time you got to take a good look at him. The curve of his nose, his cupid’s bow, his eyes- beautiful in color but sorrowful in story- and his cheeks, blushed pink in it’s high points. His jawline was sharp but he didn’t look intimidating like this. He looked peaceful. It almost didn’t look like the Draco Malfoy everyone knew of. 

“You loved him, didn’t you?” He asked after a while of silence. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer. “Cedric, I mean. You loved him?”

You pursed your lips, not knowing where this conversation was going. “Yes.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes, I do.” You responded, not missing a beat. “I think a part of me always will.” 

“Hm.” 

“Why do you ask?” You wondered out loud, inching closer to him. 

“I was just curious.” Draco paused before continuing his sentence. “Did you ever tell him?”

“Not exactly,” You confessed, picking at your nails. “One of my biggest regrets, actually. But I like to think he knew that I did.” 

“I don’t think he knew.” 

“What makes you say that?” You inquired, truly curious as to why Draco would say that. As far as you knew, he didn’t know you or Cedric in that way. It was odd that he was speaking about it like he knew the story. You didn’t mind- it just took you by surprise.

“I think-” He paused again, rephrasing his sentence. “I know that if he knew how you felt, you two would’ve been together.” Draco bit his lip. “I don’t think anyone who’s in love with you who knew you felt the same way, would hide their affections. They would scream it from the top of their lungs.” 

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. Was that a compliment? You didn’t know. You couldn’t be too sure. The way he worded things was trivial. Although, maybe that was the point. Keep his mysterious side going, per se, rather than coming right out and saying what he is he wants to say, leaving you to guess his meaning. 

Draco cleared his throat, “Any holiday plans?” 

“I’m spending it with the Weasleys.” 

You half-expected him to grimace at the Weasley name, but he let his lips quirk up a bit. He looked down, shuffling his feet. Draco could only imagine how lively their household must be. He knew the Weasley’s were a neverending bloodline and they often brought over friends to celebrate the holidays with them. He was sure it was a clear contrast from the holidays at the Malfoy Manor- quiet, reserved, tense. Nothing like what the holidays should feel like. 

“That’s lovely.” 

You nudged him with your elbow, “And yourself?”

“I’m going home.” His voice sounded strained, as if the word “home” was painful to say. Then he chuckled bitterly, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “You never want to miss a holiday at Malfoy Manor.” 

You gulped, “I’m sorry, Draco.” 

Before he could reply, you were interrupted by the sounds of kisses and giggling. Two Ravenclaws made their way up the stairs, oblivious that you and Draco were already there. They giggled under each other’s touch, ties being undone, and sexual tension running high. 

“Bloody hell,” Draco cursed, annoyance in his voice. “They always come up here.”

You didn’t even think before you grabbed his hand. In surprise, you looked up at him and his face mirrored yours. His hands were cold, too cold, almost. He stared at your intertwined fingers, breath hitched in his throat. He could feel your heat radiating off of your hand. He’s never held anyone’s hand before. 

“Come,” You pulled him along, trying to ignore the tingling sensation. “I know a better place.” 

You let his hand go once you two were half-way down the stairs. When your back was facing him, he stared at his hand, unable to wipe the smile on his face. You held his hand. Nobody ever does that. You took a glance at him, blushing when you saw the goofy grin on his face as he stared at his hand. Draco never smiles. He has a beautiful smile. 

You led him to the secret passageway, looking around to make sure there was nobody around to see you. You instructed him to stay back as you opened it, as you’ve done a million times before. 

“Is this where you were going the night I caught you?” 

“Yeah,” You confessed, shutting the door behind you once he entered. “Me and Cedric used to come down through here when we just needed to get away.” 

“Where does it lead you?” 

“The middle of the meadows, a bit outside of the castle grounds.” You said, taking a right turn. You knew this place like the back of your hand. “It’s private. Peaceful.” 

The rest of the time, you two were quiet until you got to your destination. You sighed in content, plopping down on the field, a look of serenity etched on your face. He joined you, a few meters away, sitting criss-crossed. Draco watched you get comfortable, as if you’ve done this all your life. 

“I didn’t know there was a way here that’s different from the main road.” He said. “I thought I saw you here a few days ago but I figured it wasn’t you since I didn’t see you come down.” 

“You were here.” You mumbled, moving closer to him. “I thought I saw you. What were you doing out here?”

“My father needed to see me.” He looked down, clearing his throat to change the subject. “I didn’t know you knew Myrtle.” 

“I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled. “I don’t usually tell people that.” 

“Of course, the Slytherin Prince has a reputation to uphold.” 

“You know it.” He joked but his tone told you something else. He sounded tired, almost as if he didn’t want to be that anymore. “I have a question.”

“Mhm?”

“Don’t hex me, alright?”

You froze a bit, knowing what question will come next, but you let him ask it anyway. “No promises.” 

“What house are you supposed to be in?” 

“I think you know.” 

“Why didn’t you want to be a Slytherin?”

You sighed, staring at the sky for a second before answering. “My father was a Slytherin. He came from a pure blood family but then he met my mother. She’s a Muggle and it caused problems when they fell in love. He was disowned from his family. He made me take my mother’s maiden name, fearing for my life. He made us hide. It was one of my first memories. They killed him and found my mother. I was left with the Diggory’s so I was safe the night she died. I lived with my mother’s sister in the Muggle world but spent my summers with Cedric so I stayed in touch with my Wizard side.”

“Why did they want him dead?”

“He didn’t want to serve the Dark Lord. He-”

“Stop talking.” Draco quickly cut you off, suddenly getting up from his spot. “Stop.” 

“What?”

“Don’t…” He breathed out, already making his way back to the passageway. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Draco?”

“Y/N.” He said sternly. “I said stop talking. The less I know the better.” 

You kept your mouth shut the rest of the night, the tension thick in the air.

-

TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK!

@melancholiaflowers @jjjmaybank @marshxx @truly-insatiable @poisoned-pineapple @i-mmunity @p0gue420 @dark-night-sky-99 @hvrcruxes @youareinllve @messenough

[thisplace-ishaunted]

OKAY. how about. ricky overstimulating the fuck out of trans vin in the au 👀

LMAO that this was supposed to be 5 sentences because I sat down and out came a 1500 word notfic so here you go.

OKAY SO THIS TOOK ME A WEEK TO ANSWER IM SORRY

It’s after my second Trans!Vin fic for Kinktober, which, you know what happens there, and maybe some of y’all do, but not everyone does. So, just, use context clues and guess what happened.

Vin waits a solid 36 hours to initiate something with Rick bc he wants to wait for the bruises and hickies on his hips and thighs to actually get as dark as they’re gonna get. He’s going for maximum impact here. But of course, because it’s vin, it’s hard for him to wait that long because he is a horny mess and as soon as he finishes the shenanigans in aforementioned fic, he already wants to run to Ricky and be like “LOOK WHAT I DID BEHIND YOUR BACK WHY DON’T YOU FUCK ME UP FOR IT, HUH RICK HUH RICK.” But he knows he should probably wait. Give his hole some time to recover, let the bruises blossom.

SO they’re at a venue, and everyone’s inside and setting up and getting ready and stuff, and Vin makes a pass at Rick, being like, “Do you wanna go pound one out in the bus before the show?” And Rick is like, yeah sure why not, and he had actually been thinking what was going on with Vin for him to be able to go the past approximately 4-5 days without initiating anything with Rick, there must have been something going on because that had seemed to set a record for the longest amount of time they hadn’t fucked ever since they had first started hooking up. Rick had started to get worried, but, ole reliable (as in Vin’s aching, needy boycunt), has beckoned once again and Rick is here to provide. They go to the empty bus.

Rick barely manages to get the door closed behind him before Vin drops his pants and throws himself down on the couch, lifting his shirt up to his chest and showing off his hip bones and his belly and the line of hair that runs from the middle of his chest down the center of his body. He tangles his hands in his shirt and wiggles his hips and tries to look pouty but he’s also like, we are here for a reason so lets get to it before someone walks in on us or we have to go finish getting ready for stage.

Rick joins him on the couch, leaning down in between his legs with his hands planted on either side of Vin’s chest, Ricky’s hair falls like curtains on either side of his face, almost grazes Vin’s face. Ricky takes a second to appreciate Vin’s fucking beautiful face and how it looks so cute and pouty and he is so glad that Vin is so fucking needy all the time and that he entrusts Rick to be the one to help him take care of that. It’s like, an honor.

So they kiss for a while and Ricky runs his hands through Vin’s hair and Vin does the same and Vin is already grinding his hips up and into Ricky’s still clothed hips, but can feel his hard cock through the jeans. Finally they stop kissing and then Rick sits back and realizes what is scattered around Vin’s hips and thighs and his jaw nearly drops. He’s like “where the fuck did you get these?”

And vin is like, “somewhere.” and he still looks cute and flustered and he is doing it on purpose because he wants to get Ricky all fired up.

Rick continues to ask questions, “when? Where? How?” and Vin refuses to answer any of them, which ends up kind of infuriating Ricky but in the best way possible, but he really doesn’t give a shit who Vinny fucks around with.

Ricky slides his hand over Vin’s hole, he’s already fucking wet and dripping because of course he is. Ricky shoves a couple fingers in him, and Vin whines.

“If you’re so fucking desperate to get off all the time, then that’s what you’re gonna get” Ricky threatens and plunges his face in and starts sucking on Vin and still thrusts his fingers in and out of him.

Vin loves it and squeezes his thighs around Rick’s face and grabs hold of Ricky’s hair. And since there is nobody on the bus, Vin gets to be Loud As Fuck and he moans and whimpers and Ricky fucking loves it because only very rarely do they get to actually let themselves be loud.

Vin realizes that he isn’t gonna get out of this any time soon so he let’s himself relax. Well, relax as much as possible when Rick is sucking his dick and has half his hand shoved in his hole. The stimulation manages to get him to come again and then Rick sits up but still doesn’t stop, pulls his hand out and its covered in slick and he rubs at Vin’s dick. Ricky’s other hand traces along the bruises on Vin’s hips, and he presses into them, knowing it’s gonna hurt, but he wants to make them darker, wants to make them worse, wants Vin to know that he is malleable.

Ricky makes Vin come and then doesn’t stop, doesn’t come up for air, just keeps going at the same pace and Vin doesn’t even get the opportunity to recover because it’s like he is shaking and his orgasm doesn’t actually ever end up stopping because the stimulation doesn’t stop.

At some point, Vin shoves his fingers in his own mouth, letting his fingers slide over his tongue and there is already spit sliding down the corners of his mouth because it’s basically a pavlovian response at this point that as soon as something gets put in his mouth, he starts to drool like crazy, which is hot for him, he likes it.

“Desperate mindless slut just wants to come all the time, huh.” Rick says. Vin is too overstimulated at this point to even feel like he could come again. He is squirming and he feels like he has fallen back into the cushions of the couch and the back of his head feels all floaty and he isn’t even sure if his hand is still in his mouth because it feels like he has been taken out of his body at this point. He could open his eyes to look at ricky kneeling above him, but he doesn’t want to, he’d rather embrace it, let himself fall numb, fall mindless, let Rick continue to pump at his dick and push into his hips and mark him up, reminding Vin that he can let his body belong to Rick if he wants it to.

Rick likes what he sees below him, the way that Vin’s waist curves in just slightly, the way his hand is pulling at his mouth, his bottom lip pulled down and the spit running down the sides of his face, Vin’s hair pooled around his head, his eyes closed and a light blush across his cheeks, looking dumb and overstimulated and letting himself be turned to mush. Rick feels honored that Vin lets himself get in this headspace in front of Rick, because of Rick. There’s a lot of trust there, Rick takes it seriously. He knows that Vin is pliable rn, he doesn’t want to do anything to actually hurt him.

Rick still wants to make him come again, so he doesn’t stop with his hand. He leans forward, gets his face next to Vin’s, kisses up his neck and behind his ear, telling him about how he is so mindless and he is just a plaything and how his only responsibility is to let himself continue to be slack and numb and let himself come again. And somehow Vin manages to do it, to let himself come again, by this time it doesn’t even really feel much different than the sensations that were already happening, it just feels like a completion. Vin surprises himself when Ricky finally stops rubbing at him and within like 30 seconds he already wants more but he knows he probably shouldn’t and it would probably just hurt but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cross his mind that he still wants it.

Ricky lays on top of him but makes sure vin can still breathe. It takes multiple minutes for Vin to come back, he starts wiggling his toes and fingers, bringing the sensation back, starts moving his face around and starts to make himself coherent again, tries to stitch up the parts of himself that he let fall undone.

Rick kisses along his neck, talks to him sweetly, but does realize that there is a sense of urgency here. Maybe Rick shouldn’t have done this when they have to go on stage within the next hour or so. Vin is gonna need a red bull or something.

[moonlit-han]

the constellation of cup noodles ↠ bang chan

genre: idol!au, angst, fluff pairing: bang chan x non-idol!gender-neutral reader word count: 3.3k warnings: angst, suggestive, a bit of swearing request: yes

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You weren’t used to being at work this late, since tonight was your first night working the night shift. It was 9:33 pm when the door to the convenience store opened, the bell jingling obnoxiously. Looking up from the book you were reading, you saw someone in dressed in all black with a black face-mask covering their nose and mouth, and a baseball cap pulled down over their eyes. They made a beeline for the mild instant noodles on the back shelves. After a few minutes, they came up to the counter with not just one pack of noodles but a whole case of thirty.

“Good evening,” they said politely. “Is it possible to buy the whole case?”

You were a bit taken aback—people never wanted to get quite that much of the instant noodle goodness. “Um, sure!” you said. “There’s no reason why not. Is that it?”

“Great,” the customer said, and held out a card for you to run. “Um, here you go.”

You took the card, trying to ignore how pretty their voice was. You had the feeling they might be famous in some way, as they kept their mask and hat on and didn’t try to make much smalltalk. Sometimes you got idols in the shop, and this person fit the general stereotype of a person trying to be inconspicuous but being more conspicuous in trying. Making a point not to look at the name on the card, you rang up the crate of noodles and handed it back to the customer with their receipt.

“Have a good evening and come again!” you said as they made their way out of the shop. Then, you realized you should actually be a good person and rushed out from behind the counter. “Wait! Let me get the door for you!”

The customer waited, holding the crate of instant noodles with surprising ease, then walked down the two steps down to the sidewalk. “Thanks, Y/N,” they said, surprising you with the use of your name. “Have a good night.” With you totally not staring after them, they walked away, turning their head up to the sky to see if there were any stars visible that night.

A week later, it was raining harder than if you had stood under a waterfall. Person after person had come into the shop that day to buy an umbrella, most of them business people but some students, too. Around 9:30 pm, the bell jingled and you fought the urge to knock it from its hook. You heard a grateful sigh as someone came in out of the rain. Peaking around the counter, you saw someone wearing all black and a black face-mask pull down their hood and take off a baseball cap. They shook out their slightly damp, black hair and ran their fingers through it, shaking their head, as they made their way to the instant noodles. You wondered, idly, if this was the same person who’d come in the week before.

When they came up to the counter carrying a whole crate of noodles, you knew it was the same person.

“Hey, Y/N, right? You were working last week when I came in,” the customer said. It was evident to you now that they were a young man around your age—you could hear a foreign accent dancing around the edges of his speech, but it wasn’t noticeable enough for you to tell what it was.

“Yeah, I remember you, too,” you said, studying his face. “If you don’t mind me asking, why the mask and hat all the time?”

Even with the mask on, you could tell the young man was smiling a little nervously, to the point it almost looked like a grimace. “Well, I don’t really want to be recognized,” he said, voice low, and unhooked the mask from around one of his ears. “But I guess I’ll make an exception—you seem chill.”

You had to school your expression so that it wasn’t obvious that you immediately found him attractive. Wildly attractive. He had wonderfully sparkling eyes and a mouth that clearly smiled often.

“A- Are you an idol?” you said and mentally kicked yourself. Of course he was an idol.

The young man in front of you laughed lightly and nodded. “Yeah. My name’s Bang Chan and I’m with JYPE.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N . . . as you know already,” you could feel yourself blushing.

“Nice to meet you, too, Y/N. Um, could you ring this up, please?” Chan asked, smiling ruefully.

“Oh, yeah—sorry!” You rang up the noodles, then said, “Could I ask a question?”

“Sure—as long as it’s not too personal.”

“Why are you buying thirty packs of instant noodles every Saturday?” you asked, not caring that it was a slightly silly question. You gave Chan his card and receipt.

Chan laughed, the sound bright and delighted. “It’s for my members, who like to eat way too many,” he patted the crate of noodles, “of these. I mean, I do, too, but it’s mainly for them.”

You were about to say something, but Chan continued. “Um, I’ve got to get back, and it looks like the rain’s letting up a little. I’ll see you around, Y/N!” he said, and flashed a small smile at you.

Still not believing that you’d just met one of the handsomest people you’d ever seen, and actually had a coherent conversation with him, you stared after Chan as he left the shop. The rain had, indeed, let up a bit, but he still jogged through the puddles on the sidewalk, crate of instant noodles in hand.

After he’d come in around 9:30 pm on three Saturdays in a row, you thought it might be becoming a pattern or already was one before you’d changed your shift. So, when Chan came in to get the noodles, starting toward the back shelves, you called, “I’ve already got it up here!”

Chan turned and came toward you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N, hey, what’s up? Thanks, by the way.”

“Have you had a good week?” you asked, smiling back.

“Eh, I’ve been busy, but at least I’ve gotten enough sleep.” Chan ran a hand through his hair—he seemed to do that a lot around you.

“Hey, that’s good! Make sure to drink enough water, too.” As you said it, you realized you were probably telling someone who drank more water than you to do so, but so what! He should!

Chan laughed lightly. “So, how was your week, then? Anything interesting happen in here?”

“Nope, not really. Honestly, you coming in is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened,” you said, trying not to sound like you were flirting with every fiber of your being. (You were, in fact).

“Well, it’s a small but genuine highlight of my week, too, Y/N,” Chan said. He leaned on the counter.

You felt yourself blush a little, and looked down at the register. “Oh, I still need to ring you up,” you said, trying to ignore Chan’s eyes on you. No way. No. Way. An idol from JYPE flirting with you? That just didn’t happen . . . did it?

“Um, Y/N?” Chan said a little hesitantly. “You alright?”

You realized that you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts, despite having said you needed to ring him up. “Oh my god, sorry. Yes, okay, thanks.” Taking the card, you quickly completed the transaction and gave him the receipt. “They just changed the policy, so could you sign the store copy, please?” you said, feeling bad for asking him to do one more thing.

“Sure!” Chan said and signed, taking slightly longer than you’d have guessed.

As he picked up the instant noodles and made to leave, he said, “Can you check that I gave you the right copy back? I’ve been known to take the wrong one.” He smiled ruefully.

You looked down at the receipt and saw “Store Copy” printed at the top, but your attention was drawn to the bottom where he’d scrawled his signature. Below the line, he’d written a phone number. You looked back up to see him still standing in front of you and you raised your eyebrows, as if to say, What? Chan just grinned and winked, then headed out the door. Yet again, you found yourself staring after him.

As soon as your shift ended, you typed the number into your phone and sent: “Hi, this is Y/N. I hope this is the right number.”

You got a response back immediately: “Hey, Y/N! You definitely got the right number 😊 I’d keep texting right now, but I’ve gotta go to bed right now bc I’ve already been up too late hoping you’d message 😅 I hope you have a peaceful sleep and lovely dreams. Goodnight! —Chan💕”

You squealed. What else would you do? You squealed with absolute glee over the fact that you were definitely flirting and texting a) someone, b) someone extremely attractive who somehow thought you were, too, and c) an idol! How the hell had this happened?

As you got ready for bed, you would occasionally look at the message, just to make sure it was real and you hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Nope, still there and cute as ever. You went to sleep with a smile on your face and did, indeed, have lovely dreams.

↠↞

For weeks, you'd been counting down the days and then hours until Chan had to leave to go on tour, and now that it was the night before he was leaving, you had no idea what to do. While you were happy for him and the others to get back to touring, and prouder than he could ever imagine, you couldn't help but feeling lost. You chided yourself—Chan hadn't even left yet and you already felt like a baby bird pushed too early from the nest. After deliberating over idea after idea for what to do for his last night with you until two months from now, you’d decided that just staying in was the best choice.

You brought Chan through the entrance to your apartment complex to the rooftop garden where you’d set out a meal on a small area of grass, looking out over the city to the mountains. You’d made or bought all his favorite dishes, and even nestled candles in two jars to provide a little light as darkness descended. The late summer air was cool in the evening, which, you thought gleefully, would be perfect for cuddling.

As Chan saw the spread, he turned to you, a bright smile on his face. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course!” you said, leaning against him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Oh, my sweet dove,” Chan said, wonderingly and kissed your cheek, turning to fold you into his embrace. You twined your arms around his neck to properly kiss him, relishing his warmth and solidness. After a moment, Chan looked over your shoulder, sniffing curiously.

“Is that—” he began.

“It’s all your favorites, babe,” you said, keeping an arm around Chan’s waist. There was no way in hell you were letting go of him until the morning when he would have to leave. Together, you sat on the blanket you’d spread on the grass.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Chan said, wonder in his voice. “I still can’t believe I’m dating you.” He leaned his head against yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, smiling. “I can’t believe it either.”

You distinctly remembered the weeks before Chan had received the “OK” from his company to date you—it had incensed you that your love life would now be dictated by the whims of some entertainment company. And when he’d said he was going to ask if he could officially date you, you were on edge for the long weeks until you got the best news of your life. Some mornings, you still pinched yourself to see if this reality was real. Sighing, you brought your thoughts back to the present where your boyfriend was clearly just itching to dig into the food spread before you.

“Channie, you should eat,” you said, running your hand up and down his side encouragingly.

“You have to, as well, though,” he said, concern coloring his voice.

You chuckled. “Get yours first, babe.”

Chan clapped his hands together excitedly, wriggling like an happy corgi. He took some of everything you’d prepared, making happy little noises as soon as he began to eat. You filled a plate, too, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sunset. The last rays of the sun lanced through clouds that were being driven away by a light breeze—you might even be able to see some stars later.

As you finished your food, your thoughts turned again to the fact that Chan would be gone for two whole months. You set your plate down and rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying not to feel too down. Chan’s arm went around you, pulling you closer and you snuggled into his side.

Chan, ever sensitive to your moods, murmured in your ear. “I’ll only be gone for two months, dove. And then, I’ll fly right back to you.” He carefully pulled you into his lap and you nuzzled his neck, which must have tickled him because he let out a soft chuckle. “We can message all the time and even video chat, if I have strong enough WiFi. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But Chan, you’re going overseas. On tour. I- I just want you to be safe,” you replied, fighting the catch in your voice.

Just admitting that you were worried for him made you feel even more like your world would start to crumble in less than twenty-four hours. It wasn’t that you were unhealthily codependent—far from it, since you were in school and he was an idol with a busy schedule. You couldn’t be codependent. But, there was still comfort in knowing that he’d be there to hold you when you couldn’t deal with the stress of classes anymore and you’d be there when his job became too demanding or when unknown fans sent wholly unnecessary hate. After almost a year of dating, you were used to having him in the country, at least.

“I’ll be with the others,” Chan reassured you. “And the company always makes sure we fly and travel well—don’t worry. My dove, my dear one, please don’t worry too much for me? Save some worry for me to have for you.”

“Baby—” you began, but Chan stopped you by bringing his mouth to yours. His lips were slightly chapped as usual, but you didn’t care. The kiss tasted of resignation, sadness, worry, and, of course, love. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of Chan’s body against yours, the way his hands found their way into the back pockets of your jeans, the softness of his kisses. More than anything, you were going to miss this: casual, simple affection that was never hurried nor heated, but just what was needed in the moment. You’d miss waking up beside him and rolling over to curl into his side, or being the big spoon when he just needed to be held and comforted. You’d miss going on walks in the park along the river, eating street food late at night, and— Dear god, you’d miss the sex. You really weren’t sure how you were going to stand it.

You drew back after long moments of languid kissing in which you’d still managed to slip your hands up under Chan’s shirt, and looked at your boyfriend. Tears pricked your eyes, and you hastily wiped them away. He would be back—that much was certain. The look in Chan’s eyes told you that he knew was, in truth, just as distraught to leave you for so long.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” you whispered, holding his face in your hands and kissing him over and over again.

“Dove, you know I can’t. I wish I could, but then I’d never leave. It’s- It’s our world tour—I have to go. Fuck, I’m gonna miss you, Y/N.” Chan’s voice finally broke as he said your name and he held you to his chest as tightly as he could, burying his face in your neck.

You clung to him and he to you, whispering that you loved each other as the stars began to appear overhead. His lips found yours again, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to stop kissing, stop holding him unless someone pulled you away. Once you were both thoroughly breathless from wonton kissing, you looked up at the sky, which had turned a deep, velvety blue.

“Channie,” you said, threading your fingers through his hair over and over again as you sat together. He was tracing swirls onto the back of your hand, fingers light on your skin. “Look at the sky.”

He looked up, and sighed. The breeze had blown away the clouds and even some of the smog, revealing the first pinpricks of stars above you. Chan pulled you down on the blanket beside him so you could lay and look up at the stars. You simply watched them seemingly fade into existence as the last vestiges of light left the sky, true dark folding you in its embrace like a cloak made of shadow. Once there were enough stars out, Chan began to point out constellations.

“See? There’s Orion with his belt of three stars. Oh! And there’s Andromeda—it’s almost a double-u shape.” Chan pointed them all out to you, even though he’d taught them all to you before. “And that,” he said confidently, “is the Constellation of the Cup Noodle. Note the single noodle trailing down its side.”

You gently elbowed him, giggling. “You made that up!”

“No, really!” Chan protested, reaching for your hand to hold. “There’s the round top and see those stars on either side? Those are the container itself. And then that line of stars down there,” he pointed, “is the one noodle hanging over the side!”

“You get sillier every day, babe,” you laughed, and rolled over so that you were partially on top of Chan. “If you say it’s the Constellation of the Cup Noodle, then I guess it is.”

“You know you love it, dove,” Chan said, rubbing your back and leaning his head forward to kiss your nose. “Hell, it’s cold now. Let’s go back to your bedroom and warm up, shall we?” He said, and even in the dark, you could see him wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bringing your linked hands to your lips, you kissed along Chan’s palm and then to the tip of each of his fingers. “Mmmm,” you mused, “you’ll have to put these pretty fingers to good use, then, won’t you?” You sucked his index finger a little, giving him the most innocent doe eyes you could.

Chan’s soft laugh shook both of you. “Oh, dove, how you’re tempting me. You’ll have to wait until we get back inside.” He moved to sit up and you found yourself laying in his lap. “Although, I think I could arrange a little preview, if you think you can be quiet . . .”

You nodded eagerly, and clamped your lips shut just as Chan brought his lips back to yours and his hand snaked under the waistband of your pants. It was lucky that he was kissing you, you thought. Otherwise, the whole city might have heard you in what was only the first of many times that night. 

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Implosion)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief)

...

(Katsuki gets a taste of vigilantism)

.

“GET OFF!” Katsuki struggles against the hands pulling him down. Down. Down into never-ending darkness. Ahead of him is Deku, trapped in a swirling cocoon of shifting green sludge. The idiot is smiling, so bloody pleased with himself like he isn’t seconds away from death. He yells and struggles but the shadowy figures holding him are unaffected. All they do is watch with empty eyes.

.

Katsuki flings himself upright, taking several hash breaths. The air is still, the silence oppressive. Around him, the walls of his bedroom loom, the single remaining All Might poster he still has up glaring down at him. He is shaking drenched in sweat, hands twitching, itching, eager to blow something up. Anything to loosen the knot of empty, pointless frustration stuck in his chest. In between breaths, Katsuki rolls out of bed, yanking a jacket from where it is slung over his lopsided desk in the same move. He is not wearing a shirt and he doesn’t want to go out completely exposed.

The front door is deadlocked and needs a key. A change brought about by his continued unsanctioned trips outside.  Luckily, it is not his only exit option. Katsuki yanks open his bedroom window, sticking his head out, scanning the narrow walkway that runs between his building and the next. Nothing moves, the dark space is empty save for the apartment’s collection of communal garbage bins. Quickly, he shimmies out through the narrow opening, twisting so he can drop feet first.

It is four stories down and he lets himself fall, forming twin blasts in both hands to slow his descent.

 He had long theorised that he would be able to increase and decrease his momentum with controlled explosive bursts. Pain shoots through his ankles as he lands in a crouch next to the bins but it’s not bond-breaking, so he guesses his theory is correct.

Katsuki straightens, listening to the muffled sounds of a TV playing somewhere in the building next to him. It doesn’t seem like the sound of his blasts had caught anybody’s attention. The air outside is muggy, still warm from the day's heat. Another beat passes and he is strolling off down the street, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, bare feet silent on the sun-warmed pavement. Slowly, his breathing returns to normal. Now, if he could only find something to distract his dumb brain from re-playing the scene of Deku’s final moments that would be great. He needs something to fuel his anger and rage so he can distract himself from the new empty bitterness, burrowing into his chest.  

The few people he passes are salarymen returning from an evening drinking and they all give him a wide berth. He glares, daring one of them to comment on his appearance or take issue with the fact that he is a middle-schooler roaming the streets at midnight. None of them do. The cowards.

Katsuki is cutting through backstreets, making his way towards one of the busier sections of the city, when a faint groaning sound catches his attention. He freezes, listening, eyes darting over the plain brick walls, scanning the taller office buildings and apartment complexes for the source. There…around the corner… two streets down…there is someone groaning. He stalks forward, following the murmur of angry voices. In between angry muttering is the yelp of a person in pain.

Katsuki breaks into a jog, turning in the direction of the noise, following till he can make out conversation. 

“I told you to pay up old man. You stupid or something.”

“Please. I don’t have any money…”

There is the thunk of something solid hitting flesh. 

Katsuki comes to a stop near the entrance to a shadowed alleyway just big enough to fit a small car. There is a group of three adults in loose clothing, looming over a downed fourth person. A tall lanky man with a metal bat, a shorter guy with bulging arm muscles, and a greasy-haired man holding a knife are focused on an older man who is holding a briefcase over his head like a shield. Thoughts of Deku fade to be replaced with single-minded determination.

“Hey losers,” he strolls out into full view, “How about you fight someone who’s not missing his geriatrics appointment.”

All three would-be muggers, he’ll call them Tiny, Lanky and Grease-Hair, freeze, turning as one to stare at him. In his chest his blood seems to come alive as his heart rate ramps up.

“What the hell?” Tiny looks to his fellow muggers for confirmation, “it’s a kid?”

There are few seconds of disbelieving silence before Grease-Hair shakes off their collective aneurism. “Hey kid! Why don’t you fuck off? This is none of your business.”

“You weak, wannabe-thugs got a problem with the truth?” He smirks, fingers twitching. His response has three, four if you include the Brief-Case man, incredulous looks directed his way.

“You got hearing problems kid? He said to fuck off,” Lanky steps forward, resting his bat across his shoulder in a display of aggression.

Katsuki cracks his knuckles as loudly as possible and settles into a semi-crouch, ready to use his blasts to propel himself forward. It was time to put his newly confirmed quirk ability to the test.

“Guess the standard for criminals around here just really sucks.”

“You got a death wish brat?” Grease-Hair brandishes his knife, coming to stand beside Tall-and-Lanky, “I’ll make you cry so fucking much you shit stain.”

“HA! as if you could!” All at once his anger, excitement and frustration spike into a wave of adrenalin. 

Before Grease-Hair can take another step toward him, Katsuki launches himself forward, propelling himself with as big a blast as he can manage without breaking his arms. As Katsuki is naturally hardier than the average person-a secondly quirk characteristic- the blast ends up being pretty damn big. WHOOOM! It rattles the glass in the adjacent windows. His last coherent thought before he lets his mind succumb to the rush of exhilaration is that he needs to take out one of these guys as quickly as possible to even the odds.

Crunch, is the sound Grease-Hair’s face and nose make when he slams his knee into it. The snap of bones breaking is unnervingly satisfying. Grease-Hair topples over, eyes blank, expression of shock frozen on his face as he takes an express trip into dreamland. The knife clatters on the concrete.

“Holy crap!” The two remaining men offer shouts of alarm. The bat comes hurtling towards his head and Katsuki hurls himself to the side, ignoring the stab of pain that runs up his shoulder when he lands at an awkward angle. He flexes his hands, throwing both arms up in direction of his attacker who is now trying to bring the bat down on his legs.

BOOM!

Fire and smoke erupt between them, throwing them in opposite directions. The bright flash of light and heat provides enough cover for him to roll on his feet. Tiny and Lanky stumble backward and Brief-Case man makes a run for it while they are distracted. In the main street, several car alarms go off. Katsuki, being unaffected by the explosion, recovers first and leaps through the smoke, fists clenched. Moving his arm around in an arching swing, it smacks into Lanky’s head. He barely feels this sting in his wrist and knuckles as the skin on his knuckles break against his teeth. Blood sprays into the air.

It is at this point that Tiny recovers enough to retreat a few paces and make a slashing motion with his hand. Some invisible force slams into Katsuki’s side and he is flung sideward away from Lanky. Pain blossoms in his ribs and he lets off a clumsily blast to slow his momentum. He still hits the wall of the ally hard enough to leave cracks in the brick. Blood fills his mouth from where he has accidentally bitten into the side of his tongue.

A quirk effect? Something invisible that hit hard and had some range to it. Not great for him. He pushes off the wall, crouching, ready to dodge. Tiny drags Lanky to his feet. They are both glaring at him, eyes dark.

He coughs, and, even as the distant realisation that this might not have been a good idea tugs at his thoughts, he grins, “You pieces of trash are weak shit.”

“You’re fucking dead,” Lanky fumes.

Unfortunately- or maybe fortunately- Katsuki never finds out what the two thugs would have done next in retaliation because there is a loud, amplified shout from the ally entrance.  

“FREEZE COMBATANTS.”

A blinding white light flickers on and illuminates the entire alleyway, making him wince and bring an arm up to shield his eyes.

“Shit. Cops.” Both Tiny and Lanky turn, obviously intending to make a run for it, only to realise that the ally ends in a tall stone wall.

“WOULD ALL COMBATANTS TAKE FIVE STEPS AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND FACE THE WALL!” 

Katsuki glowers in the direction of the megaphone-enhanced voice but can only make out the silhouettes of almost a dozen figures against the spotlight. Well, he’s definitely in shit now.

“ANYONE WHO DOES NOT COMPLY WILL BE SUBDUED BY FORCE!”

“Shit. Damn it.” Both men throw their hands in the air in a display of surrender not willing to try and take on what looked like half of the Musutafu police depo.  Katsuki begrudgingly follows suit, his breath beginning to even out as the rush adrenalin dips now that the fighting was over.

“Turn around and face the wall,” Is shouted once more, “Keep your hands in the air.” The silhouettes begin their approach. And they all awkwardly stand in a line and stare at the grey brick. Around them, blasted fragments of asphalt and ripped up concrete stand as damning evidence of his involvement. Guess he’ll be taking that ‘trip to the station’ after all. No way the bastards were going to let him off with a stern lecture after this.

“I hope you’re happy you psycho shit,” Lanky snaps, drawing his attention and he notes that the man is now missing one of his front teeth,  “Got us all fuckin in arrested.”

Katsuki spits out the blood that has been collecting in his mouth since he hit the wall. It spats on the ground near the man’s feet, “You got beaten up by a middle schooler. I did the criminal underworld a favour getting your weak asses off the street.”

That hits a nerve going by how the man’s face twists into a snarl of rage “Why you little…” Lanky lunges towards him and is immediately blocked by a swarm of police officers who have since surround them and tackle the man to the ground. “HEY, DON’T MOVE!” “GET ON THE GROUND” There is a lot of yelling, swearing, and spitting but the thug is quickly overwhelmed.

“All right, you, the one standing on the left…”

 Katsuki shifts his attention from watching Lanky get wrestled into cuffs to the tired-sounding cop standing a few feet behind him. Is it just him or does the guy sound annoyingly familiar?

“Put your arms down and cross them behind your back…” the sentence trails off.

“Bakugō?”

Katsuki squints over his shoulder at the familiar face of Senior Officer Watanabe. So…not just him. Fucking fantastic. Said familiar face is frozen, surprised, hands half way to opening a set of bulky cuffs.

There is a long exhale, “What have you done now.”

“Done?” Katsuki sneers, “I saw these assholes beating the shit out of some old man so I beat the shit of them instead.” Now the fight is over, that feeling of irritable restlessness is creeping back.

The Senior Officer shakes his head in disbelief, “Geeze kid, this isn’t like setting off explosives in the park, vigilantism is a serious offence.”

“What? I was supposed to do nothing then?” He grits his teeth. There, he can feel it, the anger flaring up again.

“You’re supposed to call for help. You’re lucky we got reports of the altercation and responded as quick as we did. You’re a mess kid.” 

“Tch. I was handling it.”

The man looks at him funny before letting out a long exhausted breath, “Are you going to come quietly so I can get an EMT to look you over or do I have to put you in these suppressant cuffs?”  A pause, “ And where is your shirt … and shoes?”

“Do whatever old man.” Katsuki ignores the second question. 

A firm hand lands on his shoulder, which he tries and fails to shrug off, pulling him off towards the entrance of the ally. The cuffs are handed off to another officer. They pass Tiny and Lanky who are both now sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands secured behind their backs, facing the wall. Grease-Hair, still unconscious, is being fussed over by two men in white and red paramedic uniforms. There is a small crater where Katsuki had let off his larger blast.

“Your handy work I presume?” Watanabe asks.

 “Hell yeah it is.”

That gets another sigh, “This is all going on your record. You do understand that, right?”

It must be the remaining adrenalin that has him laughing, “Like I give a shit.”

[mandoalorian]

Home [Ezra Prospect x Reader]

Home [Ezra Prospect x gender neutral reader]

Warnings: yearning, yearning and more yearning. I just wanted to have a go at writing for him.

Word count: 2k

Rating: PG

Authors Note: I’ve never ever wrote for Ezra before and I find his character just a little bit complicated but I hope this is somewhat coherent and enjoyable :)

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

"I feel like I don't belong here." you swallowed as you stared straight ahead into the green forest. Your eyes were stinging and you knew if you just gave it a few more moments, tears would threaten to spill. "I never thought I'd leave Puggart Bench." You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath. The sun was setting just off the horizon. The day was coming to an end.

"Cee lived on the Pug," Ezra grumbled as he clawed through deep damp soil, digging out aurelac. Ezra paused as he remembered his reluctant associate. "I miss her." He finished. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched your partner pull out the aurelac sac and carefully harvest it.

You didn't say anything— you figured it was best to stay quiet. It was hard though. Ezra promised you, as the days went by, it would get easier. But it didn't. You were beginning to believe he was a liar. You missed your family; your parents and your friends. You wondered if they were still out there— somewhere. You wondered if they missed you. No. You forced yourself to shake away the feelings. If they missed you, they would've come back for you. They would've rescued you.

You and Ezra walked back to camp in complete silence, apart from his occasional grunt and groan as he pushed his tired legs through the thick waves of grass. When you arrived back to your shared tent, Ezra was the first to go in. He always was. You knew his routine. He'd strip himself out of his environment suit and usually take a shower. He wanted to wash away any chance of the dust spores.

You promised him for that as long as he wore his environment suit out of camp, he would be safe. You would remind him that your shared tent had the best air filtration system he could ever ask for. But the loss of his arm had struck a kind of paranoia within him. You didn't call him out for his impulsive behaviour. You let him be. Although this trauma hurt, you still loved him for who he was. You knew his sense of pride had deteriorated since the incident and you wish you could do something to restore his confidence in himself. It was these little quirks what you loved so much about Ezra.

You lingered outside the camp for a few minutes, taking in the fresh air. Now that Ezra was occupied, maybe you could release all your pent up emotions. Cry it out. You shuffled along to the large fawn tree which hung above your camp and sat down on the grass. You picked up some pine that had fallen and began to scrape a tally mark into the bark of the tree. You had been on the Green Moon, with Ezra, 365 days and counting.

"A year is a long time, moonbeam," you heard Ezra from behind you. His voice was just as soft and articulated as ever. You noticed he'd showered, judging from his damp hair, and he had lazily put his environment suit back on. You blinked at him and then turned away.

"You should go back inside," you told him, your gaze fixated on the tree that marked your days like a calendar. "Your hair is wet, you'll catch a cold."

Ezra crouched down before shuffling next to you and you took a deep breath. "I've been here many years," Ezra admitted. "In fact, I don't remember much of my life before I came to the Green Moon."

"Why did you come here?" you asked, your voice breaking.

Ezra took a moment and stared into the sunset. "Like all Prospectors," he told you. "I guess I just wanted to make something of myself. It got lonesome, sure. But then I met Cee, and she gave my life purpose. I had responsibility."

You knew Ezra had a deep respect for Cee, the young girl who accompanied him a few years back. "I wish I had known her." you hummed, fumbling with the zip on your environment suit.

"I think she'd like you," Ezra smiled and you spotted the sparkle in his eyes. "She liked reading books too."

"Oh really?" you giggled.

"Yeah," Ezra laughed as he reminisced. "She was smart like you too. I was glad when she left, truly. I knew she didn't want to stay on the Green moon. It's no life for a young child. And despite my attempts I just knew she wasn't safe here." Ezra's explanation was followed by a pause and you noticed the cherry smile fall from his lips. "But I still miss her." he admitted.

Then, in one swift and abrupt motion, Ezra turned to face you. He nudged his gloved hand over yours, cautiously, but with an air of confidence that you hadn't seen from him in a long time. To your surprise, he interlocked his fingers with yours and held your hand. You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and found yourself gazing longingly into his dark brown eyes.

After a few beats of silence, the both of you turned your heads back to the sunset. Something so special and unique about the green moon was that every evening, there was a special moment that only lasted a few minutes, where the stars would peek out from the orange pink sky. It was often hard to catch. Tonight was your first time witnessing the unanticipated beauty with your partner.

"It's beautiful." You whispered, taking note of each star and trying to draw upon any constellations. Ezra didn't respond. The silence wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but instead it was comforting. You knew that, no matter what, you and your family were under the same sky. Possibly looking at the same stars, despite being potential star systems away. "Don't you ever want to leave?" you questioned Ezra with a sigh.

"And go where?" He asked. You realised his voice had dropped octave and you turned back to look at him. The whole time you had been admiring the sunset, Ezra had been admiring you. His grip on your hand tightened as if he was afraid to let you go.

"Anywhere but here." you lulled, feeling the tears brim your eyes again. "There's a whole universe to explore."

"I've found that I quite like staying put. After many years of drifting between planets, I prefer to just stay here." Ezra shrugged his shoulders.

"I know I've lived here, with you, for a year now— but I still consider Puggart Bench my home." you frowned. You dipped your head and rest it on his shoulder.

"For me, home isn't a place," Ezra told you. You pondered his words during the beat of silence. "Home is about who I'm with. For a while, Cee was my home. Now it's you." You pulled your head off him and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. He noted your confused expression and opted to continue his explanation. "Cee gave my life purpose. She was only young and I knew I had to provide for her. I had to go out on digs and earn my keep, make sure not to take any days off. I had to find food for her and make sure she could sleep at night. I tried to educate her but honestly? I think I learned more from her than she learned from me."

"Oh." You smiled a teary smile and looked back into the sunset. The twinkling stars were soon fading away.

"But you, my dearest moonshine," Ezra wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back into him. "You give my life reason. Now that you're with me, I have a reason to wake up every morning. I have a reason to tidy around the tent and not let it get ridiculously messy like it would before you. I have a reason to help you plant the crops and water them when you're not around."

"Oh Ezra," you smiled. "But you don't have to do those things." You shuffled into his warm embrace. You loved the way Ezra held you. It made you feel safe. Protected.

"But I do it because of you," he responded. "You're my reason." After a long silence you pulled away from Ezra. "Come inside?" Ezra asked you. "I brewed some of your favourite herbal tea."

"Really?" you smiled.

"Really." Ezra replied. Not letting go of your hand once, he slowly dragged you back into the tent and sat you down on his bunk.

He squandered over to the little heater where he was boiling some hot water and poured it into your own special mug. You took off your environment suit and made yourself comfortable. Taking a spoon, he pressed the herbs into the side of the mug, creating a tea-like consistency and handed the warm drink to you. You wrapped your hands around the mug and took a sip, humming in delight when and savouring the taste.

"You like it?" Ezra beamed with pride. He was so cute.

"Mhm," you nodded and took another sip. "Tastes like home."

"Oh? You had the same herbal tea on Puggart Bench?" He questioned, also undressing out of his environment suit and sitting next to you, wrapping his blanket over you both. His blanked smelled like him. Like the forests and fresh grass.

You shook your head. "No, you've only ever made me this herbal tea." You told Ezra and that's when it hit you. You considered Ezra home. You finally understood his analogy under the fern tree— about how home is a person rather than a place. You looked up at him and he was smiling down at you.

Ezra was truly your home. He cared for you, protected you. He looked after you when you got sick and cooked for you when you couldn't feel like it. He made sure that the temperature in the tent was never too hot or too cold. When you got tired on digs, he'd even carry you home. You had never experienced such love from anyone before. That's what it was. Love.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much use today on our dig." you hung your head in shame. Ezra wrapped his arm around you again and pulled you down onto his lap.

"That's okay, it's been a rough day. I'm just grateful for your company." Ezra slid his gloves off his fingers and began to gently trace your face. You let his eyes close under his touch.

"How come you're always so understanding?" You whispered, reaching your hand upwards and cupping his cheek. His brown stubble grazed your skin but it felt nice. You liked it.

Ezra wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted you to know that he was never like this with anyone. Just you. He wanted you to know that he was totally and completely infatuated with you. Now that you were in his life, now that you were his home, he couldn't imagine spending his days without you. It broke him knowing that you wanted to leave the Green Moon. That you wanted to leave him behind. He couldn't escape the thought.

After the silence, he noticed you had drifted off to sleep. He gently picked you up from his lap and tucked you into his own bunk, not wanting to wake you. It was okay if you slept in his bed tonight. He was more than happy to take the floor. He admired how peaceful you looked and he was glad you were finally getting some well deserved rest after such a difficult day. He spent a few minutes watching as you gently snored. He wondered what you were dreaming about. He wondered if you dreamt about him the same way he dreamt about you.

"I understand you," Ezra whispered. "Because I love you. You're my home."

Your sleeping body didn't stir in the slightest at his words and he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He hoped that one day he could kiss you for real. He hoped he could show you how much you truly meant to him. But today just wasn't the day.

Permanent taglist: @phoenixhalliwell​ @ah-callie​ - if you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know!

[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

New fic is up!

Summary: “Sleep can affect seizures in many different ways. During normal sleep-wake cycles, changes in the brain’s electrical and hormonal activity occur. These changes can be related to why some people have more seizures during sleep than others, and why not getting enough sleep can trigger seizures.“

Steve feels guilty that he let this happen to Bucky.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when he wakes up, only Bucky doesn’t know that.

The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t in the comfort of the bed he shared with the man he loved. He couldn’t feel the silk sheets that were cool to the touch of his metal arm. He couldn’t feel the dozens of pillows that he had propped up behind him as he slept, the pillows that they had argued about buying. It was unnecessary to have so many pillows, but Steve liked them, and Bucky didn’t argue.

Bucky never argued with Steve. Which is probably what led to this. Led to Bucky waking up on a Saturday not even knowing that it was a Saturday.

He may have not known what day it was, but he was aware that the day was sunny and could feel the heat on his face. His eyes scrunched as he became increasingly aware of how bright it was.

“Is the light bothering you?” There was a voice, but Bucky didn’t recognize it. He wanted to say yes, yes it was way too bright, but he couldn’t even find the energy to nod.

His neck was stiff, as if there were bricks placed at the sides of his head, preventing him from any range of motion.

“I’ll shut the curtains, just hold on, love.”

Love?

He was confused, but the bewilderment settled as the room suddenly became dark. His eyes weren’t open but the light that was causing his eyelids to furrow behind the heat was suddenly gone and Bucky was grateful for that.

He was grateful to the voice in the room.

“Sam’s on his way, you’re going to be fine…” The voice cut off and Bucky could tell that it was shaking. Was the voice sad?

Bucky was aware that he wasn’t flat on his back like he normally was when he woke up. He was used to opening his eyes in the morning to the sight of the white ceiling tiles that he used to count at night when he had trouble falling asleep.

He usually woke up to turn his head over and stare at his still-sleeping boyfriend, who slept in a fetal position, cuddled close to Bucky’s side. He always wondered if his metal arm was cold when he wrapped it around Steve’s shoulder, but his lover never stirred.

But Bucky wasn’t in his bed, and he wasn’t on his back. No, Bucky was rolled over on his side, one arm sprawled across the floor and the other tucked nearly under his chin, supporting his head. His right leg was extended straight, and the left was bent upwards towards his stomach.

“I’m so sorry… This is all my fault.” The voice continued.

He was secured in place, he realized. Stuck to this spot on the ground. The itchy carpet fibers irritating his cheeks as he tried to move his head.

He startled at the sound of loud footsteps approaching him. He wanted to shy away from the unfamiliar presence but felt too tired to compete. Suddenly, there were hands on his wrist, gripping tightly and he felt the steady beat of his pulse underneath the stranger’s fingers.

“What happened?” A new voice asked, stern, but tinted with worry.

“It’s my fault.” That was the first voice again. Bucky wanted to open his eyes to see who was speaking, but he felt weighed down with exhaustion.

“Stop saying that, Steve.” Steve! His boyfriend, the love of his life. Was that who the voice belonged to?

“It is though!” The voice was anxious. Steve was anxious. “It was my stupid idea to pull an all-nighter.”

“His pulse is strong and he’s breathing fine.” That was the other voice again, not Steve. The other voice sounded matter-of-factly. They were calm, Bucky decided. Calm was what he craved.

“How long did it last?” The tranquil voice asked.

“Just over a minute. But he’s been unresponsive for almost 10 now.”

Unresponsive? No, Bucky was very much awake. Should he let them know?

He tried to move his head again, the feeling of bricks still stopping his neck from turning to face the voices. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t try to get up yet. You’ve just had a seizure, Buck.”

A seizure? Oh right. He had seizures. It’d been a while since the last one. Almost a year if Bucky remembered correctly. It was so hard to recall right now as he laid sprawled out on the floor, his head throbbing. He swallowed back a metallic taste in his mouth, causing a wave of nausea to overcome him.

“Are you with us?” That was the non-Steve voice again. Bucky grunted in response. He tried to provide them with a coherent answer, but he couldn’t seem to form a word.

“Good, that’s really good, Bucky.” Someone was rubbing their fingers through his hair. It felt nice, comforting.

“Can you tell me your name?” Bucky felt himself frown. Name? Why does the voice need his name? His lack of answer seemed to cause a commotion, as a pair of fingers were suddenly prying his eyelids open.

“Did he hit his head?” The face in front of him was asking.

“No, I caught him.” That was Steve again. Steve! Steve was someone he loved, someone who made him feel safe.

“Yes baby, I’m right here!” Huh. Had he been talking out loud? “Sam’s here too.” Sam, right. He knew Sam. Sam was their best friend.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but you prefer to be called Bucky.” That was the voice in front of him again. Sam? That was Sam. “You had a seizure about 20 minutes ago. It’s Saturday, just after 12. You’re in the living room of your apartment that you share with Steve.”

Listening to Sam’s voice was relaxing and he was thankful for the information he was being provided. The confusion was beginning to lift. The hand in his hair was still now, except for the slight shaking he felt against his skull.

“This is all my fault Sam. You’re the one who told us he needs to keep a constant sleep schedule, but he’s been dying to have a Star Wars marathon, I didn’t think staying up all night would do this! He hasn’t had a seizure in 10 months!” Steve was frantic, panicking. Bucky wanted to reach out and hug his boyfriend. He hated when he was upset.

“It’s no one’s fault, man. Sometimes there are other reasons. Medications might need to be adjusted. Stop blaming yourself, he’s fine.”

“‘m fine” Bucky repeated.

He heard a slight chuckle. “See?” That was Sam again.

He jumped as he felt a pair of lips on his temple. “Sorry! Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

Bucky sighed in contentment. Steve’s touch felt nice.

His world was going black again.

“Should we take him to the hospital? It’s taking him a while to come to-“

“No hospitals…” Bucky struggled to respond to his boyfriend, but he knew the hospital was a place he did not want to be. He hated the smell of bleach and the bright lights, the poking and prodding of doctor’s and nurses and the memories that flooded back to him of his days in that stupid chair.

“Okay. Okay, baby, no hospital.”

“He’ll be fine, Steve. He’s just tired. Let’s get him to the bedroom.”

Yes, the bed with the too many pillows that Bucky had grown to love. The pillows that Bucky didn’t argue with Steve about buying, because he never wanted to argue with Steve. How he didn’t want to argue with Steve about staying up all night despite feeling out of sorts, because he would never pass an opportunity to spend time with the man he loved, even if it meant giving up the sleep his body so desperately needed.

His thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly felt himself being lifted off the floor. His arms were strategically placed around the shoulders of the two other men, as they dragged him down the darkened hallway. He felt weightless as the they carried him to the bed, placing him gently onto the cool, silky sheets. He smiled at the comfort, as his head laid back onto the array of pillows, each a different size and colour. Someone placed a blanket over him, and he snuggled against the sudden warmth. 

“If he looks like he’s going to be sick, remember to roll him on his side.” That was Sam again, speaking from somewhere across the room. He became aware of another body pressed closely beside him, radiating more warmth that Bucky was grateful for. “And don’t leave him alone until he’s fully conscious.”

“I’m not going to leave his side, Sam.” The fingers were back, caressing his hair.

“You’re a good boyfriend, Rogers.” Bucky knew Steve was blushing at the comment, though his eyes were closed. “You two deserve each other.” 

“He deserves much more than what I have to offer.” Bucky hated when Steve talked about himself like that.

“Don’t you say that, Steve. He loves you.”

Yes, yes, I do. Bucky was thinking, wishing he had the energy to tell him.

“I just want him to be safe, Sam. Seeing him collapse like that, after 10 months without one… I almost didn’t know what to do. Like all the first-aid training you put me through was erased.”

“But it wasn’t. You timed the seizure, you put him in the recovery position, and you kept his airway clear. You saved him, Steve.”

“I guess.”

“You did! Steve Rogers, you need to learn how to accept a compliment. And pull yourself together for when he wakes up.” Sam nodded towards the now sound asleep Bucky. Steve smiled down at his boyfriend. “He looks like an angel when he sleeps.”

Sam rolled his eyes, taking the captain’s comment as his cue to leave. “Call me if you need me. You love birds be careful.”

Steve nodded as Sam let himself out before adjusting himself so that he as snuggled up against the cool metal of Bucky’s arm. He liked the feeling of the cold on his face, as they lay under a pile of warm blankets.

The next time Bucky woke up, he knew it was a Sunday. He was on his back, staring up at the white ceiling tiles that he counted when he couldn’t sleep. He turned his head to the side, smiling as Steve snored lightly beside him. His head was propped up in the crevice of his metal elbow, but he didn’t seem to mind the cool touch.

[roselen-mylady]

Kickin it old school

Bucky Barnes x Deadpool!Reader

What happenes when Bucky falls in love with Y/n, otherwise known as Deadpool, the famous Merc with a Mouth? Can he break down her walls and enter the chaos that is her heart? 

WARNING: Mature language and suggestive themes

It started with a giggle. A little inappropriate giggle, underlined with drunken crudeness. It was a giggle that was accompanied by a dark, lustful smile and an even darker gaze. It was the kinda giggle that came from a girl who had never quite done it but had done enough hand and mouth stuff to no longer be completely innocent. A timid but craving giggle. A nasty giggle. 

Valkyrie had come to the compound for a meeting, nothing more. But with Y/n’s insistence she stayed around for their daily training. They held it outside today, allowing Sam to practice some group maneuvers with his wings and his passed down shield. Valkyrie went easy at first, not yet knowing the extent of Y/n’s power or how much she could take. 

But soon Y/n’s dirty and foul comments became more irritating than amusing and without much thought she forced Y/n back, making her fly across the yard. It wouldn’t have been such a damaging fall, no Y/n had survived much worse. Yet the decorative fence surrounding the building was an unforgiving cushion and Y/n’s head was soon impaled upon one metal spike. If her mind wasn’t so foggy she might’ve made a joke about being like an overthrown king, whose head was then displayed throughout the kingdom on a pike.  

Thankfully Sam wasted no time in making the joke, much to Valkyrie’s horror. She had killed many beings in her time, a lot without any cause or honor but this was different. The object of training wasn’t to kill your opponent but rather to better them. However there Y/n was, unmoving and what appeared to be dead upon the lawn. 

“Gods.” Valkyrie’s muffled voice came to Y/n like a blur. Y/n twitched, doing her best to lift herself off the spike. It was metal and quite firmly attached to the rest of the fence so she knew she had to find a way to work herself up to the top. 

Then the giggle came. The sultry giggle Wade used to love. 

“Deadpool, are you alright?” Valkyrie questioned, but was met with no response as Y/n gazed around her, some cheesy 90s song that had been long lost in her subconscious now filling the air around her. Valkyrie stepped into view like an angel coming to rescue her and Y/n couldn’t help but reach out to her as the woman broke the spike and brought Y/n up into her arms. 

Valkyrie was relieved to hear Y/n couldn’t die though the rather annoyed way Sam said it was alarming. Y/n’s white lenses widened as she reached out for Valkyrie’s face, letting her gloved hand caress her skin. 

Sam emerged somewhere from behind but Y/n paid no mind, finding Valkyrie’s confused expression almost…sexy? She couldn’t think straight but for what she was going to do, she didn’t need to. 

Y/n accepted the music in her head and the image before her, bringing both hands up with two fingers pointing into Vs. Y/n wasted no time in making very indecent gestures, only furthering Valkyrie’s confusion. Y/n couldn’t even hear Sam’s mock disgust as her hand drifted to her mouth motioning a lick between her two fingers though her mask covered her mouth. 

Valkyrie looked back to Y/n with an amused but uninterested smile before another set of arms took hold of Y/n. The cool metal under her back was different from the metal in her head and she found herself leaning into it for comfort. A scent so familiar filtered through her mask and she inhaled deeply, enjoying it more than the smoke from her guns. 

Looking up she was met with Bucky, his kind blue eyes and even warmer expression sending chills through her high state. Very much like Valkyrie, he fell victim to Y/n’s sexual gestures, her palm forming a circle in front of her mouth as she bobbed it closer and closer to her face. He didn’t respond, at least not that she could tell in the disoriented state she was in, instead setting her down upon her feet. 

Taking that as a go ahead, she began to sink to her knees but before her fingers could begin to dig into his waistband, his metal fingers wrapped around the spike, yanking it harshly out of her skull. 

The music stopped instantly and everything went cold around her as she collapsed into the grass. She groaned, gripping her head as an agonizing headache tore through her brain. “Oh fuck!" 

"She’s back to normal. If you can even call her that.” Sam teased as Valkyrie stepped forward to check on Y/n. Bucky stood in front of them, closest to Y/n and she now took notice of the pink dusting his face and the uneasy shift of his hips. 

“How did you survive that?” Valkyrie questioned, curiously as Sam tugged the shield out of a poor nearby tree. 

Y/n shrugged lazily, rolling over onto her side to climb back to her feet, blood still pooling in the lawn beside her. “Can’t die. Headshots only make me loopy.” Y/n explained, circling her finger next to her head dramatically as she struggled to piece together any coherent thoughts. 

“Yes, so I gathered.” Valkyrie laughed, referring to Y/n’s lewd suggestions. Y/n only shrugged shamelessly. 

“Well, if you’re ever up for it, you know where I’m at. I’ll even let you stab me again if that’s what you’re into.” Y/n winked, missing Bucky’s slight frown as he started back toward the compound. 

She didn’t know he���d only come out upon hearing a sickening squish of her skull sinking down the spike. She didn’t know he’d rushed to the lawn and nearly had a heart attack when he saw her. Didn’t know that even though she was practically immortal he still feared for her life. Didn’t know he’d give his for hers in an instant. 

Valkyrie smiled at the offer but didn’t give a response instead leaving Y/n guessing. She liked it when they played hard to get anyways. 

“Dead, c'mere.” Sam called over causing Y/n to turn away from Valkyrie’s retreating figure. She made her way over to him, still dizzy from her brain repairing itself but managed to make it over to the tree where he’d instructed. 

“Try catching the shield, I don’t think I’m throwing it hard enough." 

Bucky froze at the request, already sensing what a terrible idea it was. Yet before he could even begin to object Y/n complied, bracing herself in preparation. 

"Wait." 

His words hung limply on his tongue, exactly what he feared would happen, happening the second he spoke. Sam yelled out an apology as Y/n yanked her hand out from under the shield where it had been pinned to the tree. 

She didn’t cry or scream in pain, instead giving a frustrated shout as she jerked herself back, ripping her finger off in the process. 

"Aw, pussyshit." 

•••

"Ha! Sam, look! Baby finger!” Y/n wiggled her tiny middle finger, thrusting it into Sam’s face. He recoiled in disgust, forcing away her hand. 

“Ew, no! I don’t wanna see that thing.” He cried, pushing her off his desk. Y/n shrieked as she tumbled to the ground, landing flat on her ass. 

“Shit.” She groaned a little, choosing to sprawl out instead, too lazy to get back up. “Come on! You’re the dumbass that chopped it off. Masturbating is going to suck ass! What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” She pushed her hand forward once more, smirking as he spared it a cautious glance. Immediately Sam looked away again, shaking his head in distaste. 

Her hand fell against her stomach, her other hand coming to massage the little finger as it grew in. But before she could continue to terrorize Sam the automatic door slid open, heavy boots clambering into the room. 

“Y/n, what are you doing on the floor?” His deep voice sent familiar chills through her spine and she quickly sat up, trying with all her might to ignore the feeling. Bucky looked down at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he nudged her leg softly. 

“Cause this jackass, pushed me off the desk.” Y/n replied as she kicked Sam’s chair, crushing his leg against the side of his desk. He grunted painfully, shooting her a deadly glare before Bucky intervened. 

“How about we call this even before things get out of hand?” He sighed, rubbing his forehead like an agitated parent. 

“I don’t even want to hear the word ‘hand’.” Sam groaned. Y/n gasped, angrily rising to her feet and throwing her hands up wildly. 

“You cut it off, you stupid shit suckle!” She screeched, fuming at this point.  

“I told you, I’m still getting used to the shield!" 

"Eat a cock!” Y/n shot back. 

Bucky sighed, grabbing hold of Y/n’s hand to inspect it carefully. All the vulgar words she had planned to use on Sam were quickly lost to her flustered thoughts and her scarred face fell into an awestruck expression. 

Thankfully he didn’t see the pink that dusted her cheeks, only frowning slightly at her new appendage. It was small in his larger hands, but so was the rest of her hand and she quickly retracted it before she could start to enjoy the feeling. Bucky’s fingers followed hers for a split second, chasing the warmth that she provided but he caught himself, letting his hands drop to his side with a deeper frown. 

“How long will it take for it to grow back?” He asked. She shrugged, looking down at the dried patches of blood still lingering around the new finger. 

“Eh, like 10 minutes. I’ll be fine. One time this huge motherfucker, Juggernaut, ripped me clean in half like a damn phone book. Well, it wasn’t clean. It was messy-it was so fucking terrible.” Y/n laughed, unaware of the alarmed look Bucky and Sam shared. 

“What happened to your legs?” Sam questioned reluctantly, knowing the answer wasn’t something he really wanted to know. He was just so damn curious. 

“No idea.” Y/n hummed quietly, looking off into the distance as if searching for her literal other half. The men watched her with vivid concern, trying in vain to force away their own theories about the whereabouts of Y/n’s legs. 

“We have another mission. Suit up and meet at the jet in an hour.” Bucky told them, his voice stony in a way that only happened when he was upset. He then turned, storming out of the room leaving Sam and Y/n with equally confused faces. 

“The fucks wrong with Terminator?” Y/n questioned, jerking a thumb back at the door. Sam shrugged, lifting himself up from his desk, trying not to give Y/n the satisfaction of watching him limp. She noticed though. She always did. 

•••

“Getting real tired of these HYDRA motherfuckers!” Y/n yelled, firing at one of the agents as she ran down the infinite looking hall. Bucky ran alongside her, his metal arm braced out in front of them to deflect bullets. 

Well most of them. 

“Fuck!” Y/n screamed, slamming her hand down over her left breast with an appalled expression. Bucky froze as did the HYDRA agent that shot her, equally shocked. 

“You shot me in the fucking boob!” She screamed, disbelief and vengeance lacing her words. “Oh shit, that fucking does it. I’m shooting you right in the dick, cum bucket.” She promised, her smile venomous as she directed the gun at the man’s groin and fired without hesitation. 

The man cried out in agony as he fell to his knees, making Bucky visibly flinch beside her as she shot again. “Y/n.” He warned, looking around at the hall which was slowly flooding with more agents. “We have to move on." 

"Not yet. Not until this guy’s kids come out of his bitch like pudding!” Y/n stepped forward, firing again even though the man had already become unconscious. Only the click from her empty clip seemed to calm her rage and she growled in frustration. 

“Stupid!” Y/n shouted at herself, slamming the now unless gun into her thigh holster. The man on the ground with an ever growing puddle of red growing around his lower half was a gruesome sight but it made her smile. “Worth it.” She whispered with a smirk. 

“Sam’s waiting for us outside!” Bucky reminded, turning around them and kicking one of the agents into the group behind him. The harshness in which he had been forced into them made them fall, buying Bucky and Y/n sometime while they recovered but not much. “The elevator is our best bet outta here." 

No sooner had he said it, Bucky immediately stopped, glaring at the sight before them. A dozen men came around the corner, blocking their path with an older man in a suit at the front. 

"Whoa there, buddy, you’re within 100 feet of a school. Don’t make me call your parole officer.” Y/n mocked, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down the man at the center. 

His brows furrowed in confusion and he looked around at the other men, hoping one of them might fill him in. The agents behind the pair had gotten back to their feet, coming to block the other direction of the hall, cutting off all means of escape. 

“You have nowhere to run, give us the drive and I promise your death will be quick.” The man demanded. Y/n glanced over at Bucky, her taunting expression obvious to him even under her mask. He couldn’t help but let a small smile slip as she turned back to the man. 

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there, pal. Sorry to steal your whole Dr. Evil moment but there’s been a change of plans.” Y/n started, menacingly stepping toward the man. There was still a fair distance between them but it was close enough to make the man cower. 

“If you leave right now, I might-

let you keep your hands. If not, well, let’s just say you’re gonna have a tough time tickling your pickle tonight.” She smirked at the older man. Some of the men were baffled by the woman before them, unsure if they should be fighting her or not. Seriousness was never one of Y/n’s strong suits. Unlike people such as Captain America and Colossus, Y/n ran on violence and smartass remarks. This was in every aspect of her life even in her grieving process and while this wasn’t the healthiest of methods she didn’t really care. 

“Kill them.” The man ordered, sinking back into the group, as they stepped threateningly closer. Y/n nearly smiled under her mask. She loved it when they played it hard to get. 

“Time to kick it old school.” Y/n announced, reaching behind her and tugging free her dual swords. She spun them expertly in her hands, bringing one above her head while the other stretched out in front of her. “Bring it on, cock thistle." 

Bucky stood in awe as he watched her. The thumping in his chest was a forgotten feeling. It was something that died when he fell off the train and only just recently had it been revived. Ironically it was the one woman who couldn’t die who had brought his ability to love back to life. 

And for that she owned his heart. 

A single bullet rang out but Y/n was much faster than the bullet, swinging down the katana and slicing it clean in half. A moment of confused silence rang out through the hall, tension rising faster than the bullet that just tore through the air. 

Like the shot at the beginning of a race, the simple sound made everyone erupt into conflict. Multiple men swormed Bucky, crashing him into the wall but struggling to pin him there. Bucky was stronger than all of them but they just kept coming, a mess of men grabbing hold of his limbs and immobilizing him. 

Y/n charged forward, dropping to her knees and leaning back as she moved to slide under the man closest to her. He cried out as she cut off his hand, a soft thud on the ground telling her that her sword had gone clean through. She rose again, turning and bringing one of her feet up to plant herself before, digging her katana into the man’s back. The man fell limp on the ground, his dismembered hand still gripping the gun he had pointed at her. 

"Need a hand?!” Y/n shouted, glancing over at Bucky’s predicament. He looked back at her, his face twisted into a provoked expression. That was the only answer she needed and she quickly rolled under the rain of gunfire directed at her, landing a few feet from Bucky. She stretched out her sword, sliding the edge through the small space next to the tigger, lifting the gun and hurling it in Bucky’s direction. 

He caught it effortlessly, overlapping his metal fingers atop the dead man’s butchered hand and pressing the barrel to one agent’s skull. He made quick work at taking out three of the men, evening the playing field enough to overpower the men. He shouted as he forced himself forward, his pure brute force powerful enough to throw back a few of the men. 

Taking advantage of their stupor, he hammered his fist into the face of the agent next to him, causing blood to spill from his nose as he stumbled back. Bringing his elbow back into the next man, he knocked him unconscious before breaking free. Bucky pivoted on his heel to attack the agent hurling themselves at him once more. His hands came to fist the straps of the man’s uniform, thrusting him up into the ceiling and shattering the fluorescent light above them. The agent fell into a pile on the floor, the glass from the light scattering over his unconscious form. 

Y/n launched to her feet, slamming her knee into the chest of another man forcing him into the wall before driving her sword into his chest. Once retracting the blade, he sunk to the ground smearing blood down the wall as he collapsed. Quickly returning to her feet, she sprinted a few feet, pounding her foot into the wall as she vaulted over the next man, slicing his throat as she went.

“You stupid bitch!” A voice shouted over the chaos, catching Y/n’s attention. She tilted her head as she looked at him, the white lenses in her mask widening. 

“Excuse me, shit brains? Since I’m an Avenger now that’s terrorism right?” She questioned, turning to Bucky. Noticing he was occupied she rounded back to the man, narrowing her eyes at him. “As Scoutmaster Kevin once told me many years ago.” Y/n took large strides as she made her way to him, murderous intent rolling off of her in waves as she wiped the blood from her sword onto her leather clad forearm. 

“I’m about to fuck your shit up." 

The man howled in pain as she pelted her sword into his knee, the sharpened blade piercing through his kneecap and burying itself into the floor behind him. Y/n ran forward, kicking the blade further in causing the joint to snap with a sickening crunch. 

Grabbing hold of the man’s head, she flew forward, flipping over him as she balanced her weight on his already unsteady form. She landed behind him, pulling his head back with a harsh tug. Knocking out his other knee, she forced him down, bringing her other katana to his throat while her foot rose to settle between his shoulder blades. In one swift movement, she pushed him down, digging her blade into his neck with a satisfying slice. 

Bucky met her eye as the man dropped, the gurgling from his throat echoing through the hall. Bucky’s gaze was surprised but not disgusted. Instead he marveled at the sight of her, astonished by Y/n’s display of atrocious violence yet fierce beauty. Never had he seen anything like it before Y/n entered his life and while he should’ve been horrified by half of the things she did he couldn’t. Because ever since she joined their team she had only done those things to destroy the same organization that had destroyed him. And he couldn’t get enough. 

Y/n looked away, flustered under his gaze. She couldn’t handle the way he sent chills down her spine and butterflies to her stomach. It was cliche but it was happening and she refused to face it. "I see the elevator.” She told him, catching sight of the leader trying to run out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around, her hand reaching forward to grab the blade still plunged in the dead man’s knee before chucking it at the escapee. 

The sword sunk into his skull pinning him to the wall as Bucky took out the remaining men beside him. “We have to hurry, our cover’s been blown and Sam can’t wait around for too long.” Y/n nodded in acknowledgement, sheathing her sword as he came to stand next to her. 

Y/n glanced around at the bodies scattered around the hall. It was quite a scene, blood splattered along the walls and floor, bullet holes littering the plaster and the light fixture above them flickering wildly as it struggled to keep the hall lit. 

“Oh, I am so touching myself tonight.” Y/n groaned at the sight making a soft pink flush across Bucky’s cheeks. The mere thought of it sent blood rushing to his face and he shifted awkwardly as it rushed to other places as well. But before he could mumble an embarrassed response, shouts from more agents echoed down the hall cutting short any sort of awkward conversation he could have mustered. He quickly shuffled through the corpses, dragging Y/n along with him as she quickly plucked her other sword from the man’s skull.  

They ran around the corner coming up on the elevator fast. The agents giving chase were catching up and Bucky urged Y/n in front of him, instinctively trying to protect her. Once reaching the elevator, he ripped open the doors, too distracted by the growing danger the agents presented to notice the fact that the elevator wasn’t even there as he stepped forward. 

But Y/n noticed and she quickly grabbed him, spinning them to where he was out of the way. However in the process she forced herself over the edge, falling back clumsily. 

For a split second Bucky reached forward, trying desperately to catch her but she was already falling. She slipped through his fingers dropping the eleven floors to the bottom of the elevator shaft, landing with a sickening thud. 

Bucky choked on his breath, staring down at her still and twisted form as his heart clenched in his chest. Flashbacks of his own fall began to overwhelm his already cluttered mind and he almost wanted to scream. 

It was 2 agonizing seconds before she moved, a loud shout echoing through the shaft. 

“Motherfucker! I think I just shat my spleen!” Y/n moaned, rolling onto her side. Bucky let out a relieved chuckle and looked behind him, mumbling his own curse before jumping down after her. His metal arm grasped onto the cables, slowing his fall but the screeching of metal on metal seemed to amplify in the confined space. 

Once reaching the bottom he jumped off, crouching down beside her as her blood began to pool around her head. “Shit! I don’t know what hurt more, falling eleven stories or listening to your arm! It’s like two tractors trying to- Fuck!” She cried as his arms slid under her body, pulling her up against his chest. 

“I found the elevator.” Y/n laughed dryly as she pointed above them, the said elevator hanging a few floors above the floor they had been on. “How convenient.” She mumbled, glaring up at the air as if focusing her annoyance toward a certain writer who enjoyed torturing her readers. 

Bucky was oblivious to her turmoil, instead shaking his head at his stupidity and cursing himself for letting his feelings for her distract him. It was his fault she fell. Is this how guilty Steve had felt?

“We’ll have to have Sam meet us on the ground instead.” Bucky grunted, kicking open the doors to the ground level. He ran out into the room, his grip on Y/n remaining firm as he headed to the exit. 

“Nothing like falling 100 or so feet to get you going, am I right?” Y/n snickered at her own joke, trying to ignore the erratic beating of her heart as his cologne invaded her senses. 

They made it out, the sky blooming in a beautiful shade of orange as the sun began to set. Y/n admired it for a moment, smiling when the quinjet came into view. Allowing her to slip out of his arms, Bucky planted his hands on her waist to insure she was steady before bashfully shying away as Sam landed. 

“Come on!” He shouted, opening the back ramp for them. Bucky followed Y/n as she ran up to the jet and climbed up the ramp, keeping an eye behind them as the HYDRA agents ran outside. The ramp closed just in time and Y/n let out a relieved laugh as she fell onto the bench inside, whopping amusingly. 

“Well, that was a shit show. Got this little fucker though.” She grunted, pulling the drive out of one of her pockets before handing it over to Sam. He accepted it, eyeing her with a rare look of concern. 

“What the hell happened to you?" 

"Decided to take a swan dive off the eleventh floor. Not my highest record but still fucked me in the ass.” She laughed, tugging off her mask. Her hair was matted and bloody, sticking up in one spot from her mask but any effort at soothing it was pointless. The scarred tissue around her lips and nose contorted in discomfort and sweat had coated her brow from their fight. 

She was healing already but it didn’t ease her any as her bones reset and her organs reformed. It was an excruciating process but she didn’t complain, instead pulling out her gun and observing it as Bucky sat down next to her. 

“Who’s balls I gotta fondle to get some tacos? I’m starving.” She nagged, dropping her mask and gun on the floor before stretching out across the bench on her stomach. Her head rested on Bucky’s leg making his blood run cold as her chin brushed the inside of his thigh. 

“You offering?” Sam replied, raising a suggestive brow as Y/n’s new position. 

“You wish.” Y/n winked at him, making Sam shake his head disapprovingly. 

“Eh, you’re not my type.” He insisted, sharing a playful glare with her. They had a confusing relationship but most of her relationships were. Sam didn’t hesitate to tease her or join in on her pranks, much to Bucky’s chagrin. Y/n rather enjoyed Sam’s company and she knew he felt the same though they seemed to hate each other. 

“I’m nobody’s type, Warren Worthington. I’m kinda the, 'if I squint really hard I can pretend you’re the non-blue version of Mystique- Lawrence not Romijn- so I’ll fuck you’ kinda gal.” She rambled, not caring to explain who the hell she was talking about. But she didn’t have to. Bucky was already frowning. 

Y/n wasn’t lacking confidence, no that was the one thing she had an abundance of. She knew exactly what people thought of her horribly scarred body and she chose not to give a shit. But what upset Bucky the most was the fact that she believed herself to be unwanted. Did she truly believe that she was undesirable or was she just joking? 

“Want some?” Y/n questioned beside him, holding up a small white package labelled 'Y/n’s cocaine’. He shook his head, his brows furrowing as he wondered why on Earth she thought that moment was a good time to offer him cocaine. Or how any time was the right time.  

She shrugged, ripping open the bag and pouring some of the white powder into her gloved hand and inhaling it harshly. He winced at the sight but her drug problem wasn’t the cause of his downcast expression. Rather the fact that the beautiful woman who had introduced herself as Deadpool seemed to be oblivious to his feelings. 

Bucky couldn’t get the sick feeling to subside the whole way back to the newly rebuilt compound. 

•••

“Here I go, here I go, here I go again. Girls, what’s my weakness? Men!” Y/n sang along, ignoring the strange looks from the man in the elevator as she danced along with the song blaring on her portable radio. “Ok then, chillin’, chillin’, mindin’ my business." 

The elevator opened on the floor where most living quarters and showers were kept, hers included and she stepped out with a bit of a jig as she kept pace with the beat. "Yo, Salt, I looked around, and I couldn’t believe this. I swear, I stared, my niece, my witness.” The soft patter of her feet down the hall was soothing as she lifted her arms above her head, swaying slightly with the music as she twirled, barely missing the agent who was coming out of his own room. 

“The brother had it goin’ on with somethin’ kinda, uh. Wicked, wicked had to kick it

I’m not shy so I asked for the digits.” Y/n rolled her shoulder rhythmically as she side-stepped past him, keeping her moves swift and joyful as she danced along to the song. The showers weren’t too far now but her loud music was slowly catching the attention of people who had already called it a night, summoning them out into the hall. 

“A ho? No, that don’t make me. See what I want slip slide to it swifty. Felt it in my hips so I dipped back to my bag of tricks.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat as Bucky stepped out into the hall. He was dressed in a much more comfortable looking attire of sweatpants and a t-shirt and while it was plain it still sent a familiar tingle to her core. 

Opting to push aside her unwelcomed feelings toward the man, she continued on deciding to have a little fun with it as she went. 

“Then I flipped for a tip, make me wanna do tricks for him.” She spoke along to the song, making eye contact with Bucky as she did. His eyes seemed to glue to her hips, watching them with a guilty expression, the gentleman in him fighting his obvious stares. He tried with all his might to drag his gaze elsewhere, only managing to lift them to her half-masked face with a flustered expression. 

“Lick him like a lollipop should be licked.” Y/n winked, flicking her tongue sensually. The line sent a deep flush to his cheeks as she came to stand before him, her fingers racking his t-shirt. 

“Came to my senses and I chilled for a bit. Don’t know how you do the voodoo that you do. So well it’s a spell, hell, makes me wanna shoop shoop shoop.” Y/n smirked, spinning on the ball of her foot and walking off toward the showers, a bit of a pep in her step as she left Bucky absolutely flabbergasted. 

The music faded along with the scent of her perfume and Bucky lingered on the senses, his heart racing wildly. He was so distracted in fact that when Sam crept up beside him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he followed after Y/n, he didn’t even try to object. For now he would bask in what was left of her presence and the frantic pace of his heart. 

But he couldn’t enjoy the feeling for long. 

•••

“Sam!" 

Bucky knew he would regret not stopping his birdbrained friend. Said perpetrator now ran full speed down the hall toward the kitchen, arms cradling Y/n’s suit urgently. Sam sprinted behind Bucky, hoping his super soldier best friend might be able to spare him his life as the raging Merc with a Mouth made her way to him. 

Poor Bucky didn’t even have time to process what Sam’s arms held before, Y/n came storming in clad in only her mask, water dripping from her untucked hair and other areas. "Sam, you dick kicking fucktard! Give me my fucking suit, now!” Bucky tried in vain to shield his eyes but it was too late. He had seen enough to fuel his fantasies for the rest of his life and any hope at burying his painfully unreciprocated feelings were now dead. 

“No! You practically live in this thing, it’s disgusting!” Sam yelled back, climbing onto the counter to stuff the suit behind the fridge. “You’re banned from it until you wash it!" 

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?! You crammed it in further than a priest goes into a 6 year old boy!” Y/n screamed back, marching threateningly over to the counter where Sam stood. 

Bucky didn’t know what he admired more, her lack of shame as she paraded around in the nude or her lack of remorse as she grabbed Sam’s ankle, brutally yanking him and causing him to crash onto the hard surface. 

“Motherfucker! I did not come down here and ruin that poor teenage boy’s virgin eyes for you to be a punk ass bitch!” She screamed, pointing in the direction she had just come from. Sam groaned, sparing a glance in the direction. 

“What’s Spiderbrat doing here?” He huffed, gripping his ribs tightly as he tried to rise from the ground. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky mumbled, putting his hand against his temple as he attempted to remove the soaked Y/n from his sights. 

“Spiderman?! That was Spiderman?! I have an obligation to the fans!” Y/n cheered excitedly before spinning around and running off down the hall. “Wait Spidey!” She cried, her feet slapping the tile in wet smacks. 

“I swear to God if she takes his virginity. Y/n!” Sam yelled after her, flying up from the ground and speeding after her. Y/n screamed as she slipped, a loud crash echoing down the hall as Sam cried out in pain. 

Bucky practically shook as he struggled to erase her from his mind. He couldn’t do this to himself. It was in her nature to be inappropriate and flirtatious. He couldn’t allow himself to read into it. He couldn’t handle the rejection.  

•••

Bucky needed some air. He had sat in his room for an hour trying to recover his composure. His heart still raced and his face hurt from how much he had been blushing but nothing seemed to stop it. 

Venturing up to the roof wasn’t like him. Usually he would go on a run or try his luck at the training room but today he wanted to just sit alone and think. However once reaching the roof he found that wouldn’t be the case. 

Y/n hummed quietly along to her radio, swinging her feet cheerfully over the edge of the building as she sewed back together the bullet holes in her recovered suit. It was a routine of hers, one she only started to develop when Blind Al refused to do it anymore. 

Bucky stepped forward quietly, not recognizing the tune but loving the way it sounded from her. She wore a simple pair of shorts and tank top, exposing much of her scarred skin but not as much as he had seen earlier. He was grateful she unknowingly took pity on him but covering up, coming to stand a few feet behind her. 

Tying off the sting, she reached over to the box of band-aids, pulling out a Hello Kitty themed one before slapping it on over the stitch. Y/n cheered out triumphantly, holding up her suit to inspect it before draping it over the ledge beside her. A half eaten burrito was set on her other side and she absently reached for it, taking a bite out of it as she bobbed her head to the music. 

“You wanna bite?” She questioned, mouth still full with the food. Bucky mentally cursed himself for being caught but gave into her offer, coming to stand beside her. She handed him her burrito and he hesitantly took it, biting into it carefully. 

“You owe me 5 bucks. That show you got downstairs wasn’t free.” Y/n smirked, lighting the tense atmosphere a little. Looking up at her, he had no choice when a smile crept onto his face. Everything about her seemed to fill him with a giddy excitement, like riding a roller coaster. Y/n was a roller coaster of a person. 

“Only 5 bucks. Little cheap if you ask me.” He replied smoothly, earning a giggle from her. She shrugged shamelessly, swinging her legs over to his side of the ledge. 

“Gave you the ol’ bestie discount. Pay 10 dollars more and I’ll even throw in a night of your wildest dreams.” Y/n winked, hating how much she adored the pink that dusted his cheeks. 

He shook his head with a light chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t want it to happen like that.” He replied, flinching at his own words. Her brow furrowed but judging by his mortified expression she decided to leave it alone. 

Grabbing his hand she gestured for him to sit next to her and he did, climbing up cautiously as she turned back around. It was strangely soothing on the edge, the risk of falling sending a small thrill through them. Y/n had a way of giving him tiny bursts of joy, something he’d never experienced before. Not for a very long time. 

He couldn’t begin to describe the way she could make his heart race with a simple glance. In training when she takes him down he finds the fact that she could end him with ease peculiarly enticing. He’d experienced a variety of experimental drugs but never the recreational type. Though he imagined the high he’d receive would be very similar to how Y/n made him feel. 

She gave him a buzz that he slowly began to crave. Life before her just seemed so dull and he never wanted to go back to that. He’d become a bit of an addict for her presence and he felt safe in doing so. Losing her to the ravages of battle as he had so many before was impossible and Bucky felt that his feelings toward her could help him move on. 

The breeze flushed against their bodies, turning Y/n’s attention to the stars flickering above. The way she gazed up beside him, reminded Bucky of dates he had in the 40s. They were simple and sweet, always ending with a soft peck to his cheek or lips.

Imagining Y/n on one of these dates was like seeing a pig fly but he didn’t care. His old life was gone and no one helped him move on from it better than Y/n even if she was unaware. In the past women were polite and lovable and Y/n was anything but. 

She was foul mouthed and wildly inappropriate, constantly saying things he would’ve never dreamed of hearing from the women he used to date. Her dark humor was wrong and he still struggled to understand it at times. She killed without hesitation or remorse and in the most gruesome ways one could imagine, not giving the action a second thought. All of this was new to him and while at first he disliked everything she stood for, he couldn’t help but fall in love with her as time passed. 

She was everything that was so new to him, yet still carrying the underlying characteristics he loved so much. She was brave and reckless, willing to give her life for others. Her morals were still there yet buried deep within her, never to be exposed unless she encountered something truly corrupt. 

Her decisions were rash and not thought through, her lack of mortality seeming to make most situations trivial to her. But he suspected she was like that even before her mutation. Despite her carelessness in battle, she cared so much more than she’d let anyone know. People she considered friends, need never fear any danger for she would eliminate any threat that dared show its face. 

But what he loved the most was her strength. While her physical abilities were amazing and dared outmatch his own, he loved her emotional strength more. She had experienced so much pain, like he had but she still managed to smile. Still managed to make him smile. And he loved her for it. 

“Thank you for saving my life today.” He spoke earnestly. Y/n shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, gazing out over the city. 

“No worries. Couldn’t have ya becoming a pancake, now could we?” She laughed, trying to mask the true worry that started to set in. What if he had fallen instead of her? What would she have done?

'Probably would have gone after him.’ Y/n sighed silently, knowing it was true. 

“No, I guess not.” Bucky offered a smile, hoping she didn’t notice the guilt in his eyes. Another uncomfortable silence settled over them but Y/n didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re beautiful.” Bucky mumbled quietly, almost timid under her stunned stare. He didn’t regret saying it, only wishing he had said it more often. 

The way the night sky accented her face was glorious even though she was scarred. Her scars had never really been an issue to him. The first time he had seen them she was reluctant but understood their need to see the person behind the mask to gain their full trust. He hadn’t been anticipating such intense scars but he wasn’t repulsed by them. In fact he thought she was breathtaking and he wondered just how different she had looked without them. 

When she explained how the scarring had come to be, telling them that her disfigurement was actually because of her cancerous cells mutating, he felt sorry for her. He knew what it was like to be tortured until he became something else and he hated the idea of her experiencing it as well. Yet even through all that she insisted she was 'a sexy motherfucker’ and he couldn’t help but agree. 

Her hair swayed with the breeze, falling gracefully around her face and outlining her shocked expression as she tried to figure out if he had really complimented her or if she had just misheard him over the music. The glimmer of sincerity in his eyes caused her heart to leap, making it harder to reply. 

Her eyes were her most beautiful feature. The one thing that hadn’t changed since her mutation and he found that he was able to read her better through her eyes. Whether or not her eyes displayed the same enjoyment her smile showed, told him everything he needed to know since she covered almost everything about her with some smartass remark. Her eyes gave her away. Her eyes were everything. 

“Thank you.” Y/n whispered, unable to piece together any sort of snarky reply. She couldn’t even break her stare as she gazed into his compassionate eyes. A tug at her heart pulled her toward him and as much as she tried to fight it she couldn’t shake it. 

Bucky felt it too as he cautiously leaned forward, his metal hand coming to caress her cheek as his eyes absently dropped to her lips. Her breath flushed over his own sending chills along his skin. Their lips ghosted over one another, barely brushing in the tenderest of touches. 

Yet a sudden change of song sent Y/n tearing herself from his grasp, a crestfallen expression taking place of her once longing gaze. The upbeat tune rattled her to the core, dredging up the memories she so desperately tried to subdue. 

We're talking away.

I don't know what, I'm to say. 

I'll say it anyway. 

Today's another day to find you

“What? What’s wrong?” Bucky gasped, pulling away with a concerned frown as he reached out to hold her arms. She shied away from his touch, making him instantly retract his hands, fear of hurting her flashing across his face. 

“No, uh, I’m okay. I’m sorry I’m just-I…” she trailed off trying to find the words to blame it on herself. She knew Bucky still feared the Soldier that lurked in the darkest parts of his mind, waiting for the right moment to break free and destroy everything and everyone he cared for. She knew she was one of those people. And she knew she had just terrified him by moving away but she couldn’t help it. 

“I’m not ready for this." 

Shying away. 

I'll be coming for your love, okay?

Take on me. Take me on.

I'll be gone. In a day or two

"I’m not ready for something meaningful. I’m not ready for you." 

Bucky’s face fell at her confession, shifting away from her. She wanted to reach out or say something, anything to make him stay but the ever growing guilt in her heart rendered her speechless. 

She couldn’t do this. Not to Bucky. Not to herself. And not to Wade. 

But she couldn’t stay silent. 

"I had a boyfriend.” She spoke, her voice shaky and fragile. Bucky froze, unable to lift his gaze to her. “His name was Wade. I was with him before I got cancer and he was there when I got diagnosed. He was there when I refused treatments and he was still there when I became this.” She gestured to herself, deciding to spare Bucky the story of her avoiding Wade for all that time because she feared how he’d react when he saw what she had become. 

Much like Bucky, Wade didn’t care and after she saved him from Francis, they somehow made a life together. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of him, his loving gaze and dirty mouth bringing a bittersweet smile to her face. 

“His crazy matched my crazy, big time. A real ride or die type. Oh, that man’s mouth could make me sound like a nun. And we were going to start a life together.” She hastily wiped the beginning of her tears as Bucky listened quietly beside her. “But I was reckless and arrogant and I got him killed before we could." 

The hurt Bucky felt from her rejection was slowly starting to fade as she explained, his intense emotions starting to morph into sympathy. 

"I loved him more than anything in this life and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get back to him. Immortality is a bitch like that but I thought, maybe just maybe if I somehow managed to destroy myself completely, I would be with him again. But nothing worked.” Her voice broke as her emotions overcame her. 

It took everything Bucky had to not pull her into his arms right there and hold her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. But he couldn’t. Her heart still belonged to the man who made her into who she was and he had to respect that, however painful it was. 

So needless to say. 

I'm odds and ends. 

But I'll be stumbling away. 

Slowly learning that life is okay.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He’d experienced loss before but never something that made him want to end his life. For 70 years he lacked the freedom to do so and now that he did, he wanted to live for himself. Wanted to experience everything that had been taken from him. 

But now it was Y/n that lacked freedom. She was brave enough to venture into the unknown for Wade only to be dragged back by her immortality. The two were very different, as they always had been. And while Bucky thought it made them better together, Y/n could only see it as a reason to stay apart. 

Wade was her other half, her soulmate. Bucky could never replace him. And she could never ask him to. 

“It’s not your fault.” Her reply was sincere but dulled, as if the automatic response wasn’t what she wanted to say yet happened to be the only thing she could manage. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to tell Bucky that while Wade was her first and most beloved partner, it didn’t mean he was her only. 

Ignoring the way Bucky made her feel was growing more difficult and try as she might she couldn’t deny it any longer. She loved Bucky. 

From the very beginning she had been hooked by the super soldier and every tragic thing that had happened to him. She loved his rare but breathtaking smile, the one that made her dizzy and weak at the knees. She loved the moments when he’d let his frustration out through hushed swears and absolutely adored the times he’d remind her that his vocab was that of an army man from the 1940s. He could spout off a string of profanities that would make a sailor cower and even though he always apologized after, the action only made her feel more at home among the team. 

She loved what a gentleman he was, even to her, who was as unladylike as they came. He’d never hesitate to go out of his way to do little chivalrous acts that made her heart race and it only made her crave the 40s man more and more. 

But what she loved most of all was how much he understood her. He knew what it was like to be forced to the breaking point until he became something he wasn’t. He knew what it was like to not trust your own mind and for that Y/n loved him. 

But she still loved Wade more. 

Say after me. 

It's no better to be safe than sorry

Take on me. Take me on. 

I'll be gone. In a day or two.

“Bucky, I-" 

A familiar feeling stopped Y/n dead in her tracks. A sense that told her something was wrong and one she had only felt the night she lost Wade. It was like the world around her slowed down and all she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart as she looked out into the open night air. 

A jet engine roared through the sky, coming faster than Bucky could react in his moment of weakness. Fortunately Y/n was much faster, grabbing hold of the super soldier and dragging him off the ledge. They ran across the rooftop, ducking back behind the small concrete entrance that housed the elevator back down to the building. 

A harsh explosion followed not too soon after they had seeked cover and Bucky moved forward, bracing her against the wall as he did his best to keep her steady as the building rattled on impact. Heat enveloped them and Y/n tried her best to ignore the heat rising to her own face, being pressed so close to Bucky’s chest. 

The jet flew past the building and into view, rounding back for another attack. Y/n watched it with wide eyes as it flew straight at them, readying another missile. 

"Look out!” She screamed, tugging furiously at Bucky’s t-shirt as she dragged them to the other side of the concrete housing. They moved fast, making sure to stay ducked down to avoid becoming more of a target than they already were. 

Thankfully for them, the jet didn’t strike the roof, allowing them to slip into the elevator and begin the descent to the rest of the compound. The aftermath of both explosions shook throughout the building and the lights inside the car had turned red, telling all those in the building that they were on high alert. 

“It is those HYDRA fucks? What do they want?” Y/n questioned. Bucky didn’t reply at first, silently calculating their next move. It was a cold reaction but something he couldn’t quite shake from his Winter Soldier days. 

“They’re here for the drive.” He answered finally as the doors opened up to reveal the lab floor. Sam ran to them frantically, leaving the two scientists to back up files and technology in case the attack went too far. 

“Good! You’re here. I’m going out to try and stall the jet, you guys get a quinjet and meet me outside.” Sam instructed, heading into the elevator only to have Bucky grab his arm. 

“Sam, they want the drive. They won’t stop until they have it.” Bucky explained carefully, his eyes returning to the seriousness they always had during missions. 

Sam shook his head, “What do you expect us to do? Hand it over?” He questioned. Bucky shook his head, all the plans he was able to put together ending in failure. There had to be something. 

“What if they think the drive is destroyed?" 

Bucky and Sam turned to Y/n, mutual looks of confusion taking hold of their features as she glanced back at the lab. The scientists had finished up and we’re now rushing past them to the elevator but Y/n’s eye caught something else. The drive was placed in a small container, Stark tech of some kind to make sure no external sources could get to it. 

"How would we do that? They’re not gonna take our word for it.” Sam protested. Y/n was already making her way to the drive, her own plan forming as she went. Bucky moved to follow her but she quickly turned around, as if sensing what he was doing. 

“Sam take Bucky with you. Distract the HYDRA assholes for as long as you can while I transfer the drive’s info to the safe house. Follow my lead.” Y/n demanded, rushing over to the desk which held the drive. 

“No way, I’m staying with-” Bucky was about to object but another explosion quaked the building, sending him back into the elevator. Sam grabbed hold of his arm before Bucky could react and the elevator closed, leaving Y/n alone. 

Bucky yelled out, forcing himself toward the buttons but Sam’s grip was tight and Bucky found he didn’t have the energy to fight him. Y/n’s plan would work, they always did. But he feared what she might do to herself in the process. 

“Why would you do that!?” Bucky shouted, trying to make up for his lack of fight through his words. Sam didn’t answer knowing Bucky was being irrational. Y/n insisted again and again she could do 'shit they’ve never seen’ as she fondly put it, but it hurt Bucky everytime he couldn’t save her. 

He’d watched her 'die’ countless times and each time he couldn’t do anything. It trudged up memories he’d rather forget. Memories of protecting Steve and still losing him to the one thing he couldn’t fight-…time. Memories of the helplessness he felt during his time at HYDRA. Memories of losing his old self, a part of him he’d never be able to save or recover. 

Bucky stormed through the hangar, heading toward the first quinjet he saw. It took every ounce of self control he could muster to not rip the door off the machinery but he managed to climb in, leaving the jet unscathed. 

Sam flew ahead with a couple of agents in their own quinjet while Bucky followed behind, ultimately taking his own route straight toward the attacking jet. He knew their technology well and knew the weakest points to hit but even if he took out this jet, another one would take its place eventually. There had to be a way to insure they wouldn’t come back. Maybe if he went back and took out the new boss? No, someone would rise up and take his place. 

His eyes narrowed as he began his attack on the jet, using the large guns installed within the aircraft. The HYDRA jet instantly maneuvered away from the shots but Bucky anticipated it and moved with them, raining as much fire as he could on them. 

But before he could advance on them any further, another quinjet launched out of the hangar, flying past at breakneck speeds. Bucky’s heart dropped when he heard Y/n over the radio. 

“Listen here you HYDRA nutsacks. If you want the drive, you’re gonna have to come get it. And I don’t play fair.” She taunted over the frequency, urging the enemy jet to follow her as she raced away from the building and Bucky. 

As she had expected the jet followed, sparing no expense as they hastily rushed through Bucky and Sam’s attacks. Nothing mattered but the drive and Bucky wished he had thought their mission through a bit more. He didn’t even know what was on the drive let alone how far HYDRA would go to get it back. 

But he soon found out how far they’d go to ensure their enemies didn’t have it. 

“Y/n, look out!” Bucky cried, unable to stop himself. He knew what Y/n was planning. She was meant to go down in the plane. But he wanted to stop it, hell at this point he would rather give the drive up. Y/n’s powers were amazing, yes but he couldn’t help but feel that one day her luck would run out, that one day she just wouldn’t come back the same. She’d be horribly changed like he had been. A monster. 

He couldn’t bare to see her become that. 

Y/n skillfully flipped the jet, steering a harsh right as the HYDRA jet stayed close on her tail. “Get the others out of here. I can handle this!” She called, keeping her words careful as to not alert the enemy of her plan. 

Sam listened, turning away to lead the other quinjet back to the headquarters but Bucky couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. He knew what it was like to die and come back and he couldn’t understand why Y/n was so willing. At first it was noble, giving her life for his but then she did it again and again. 

Bucky was terrified for her. Terrified she wouldn’t be Y/n anymore. And terrified of the reason she kept destroying herself. 

“Bucky go back! This isn’t your fight!” Y/n yelled at him, switching to a frequency only they could hear. 

“The hell it isn’t! The only reason you’ve been fighting HYDRA is because of me. I’m the fucking asshole that keeps leading you straight into harm’s way when I’m supposed to protect you!” He fought, following behind the chase.

Y/n groaned, frustrated by his insistence on keeping her safe. She didn’t need to be safe, if anything he should be protecting everyone else from her. “I never asked you to protect me! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?!” Angry tears began to well in her eyes but she rapidly blinked them away, keeping her focus on the jet behind her as she began her trek up into the sky. 

Maybe if she flew high enough the HYDRA jet would stall long enough for her to get an advantage? 

“You know why!” Bucky spoke, his tone matching her own agitation. He really hoped he didn’t have to say it. Saying it at all was nerve-wracking but saying it in the middle of a fight? How could he spring that on her?

Y/n’s heart dropped as her grip tightened on the yoke. His words shot through her like a thousand bullets but she found herself unable to recover from it. It was all too familiar. Too depressing. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Y/n replied, praying to whoever had control of her miserable life that Bucky was mistaken. Maybe decades of being touch starved and deprived of love had made him think he cared about her. 

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

“I love you, Y/n! Fuck you always make things so difficult and you never take anything seriously but I love you more than I’ve ever loved someone. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you but you keep dying before I can show you that." 

His confession was rough and forceful but still so heartfelt. Y/n wanted to cry at how much it reminded her of Wade’s but she didn’t allow her tears to consume her. Only pushed herself and the quinjet through the atmosphere, watching in the display as the HYDRA jet began to fall. 

"Please, say something.” Bucky pleaded, his voice fragile and broken. He knew rejection was imminent. Their talk on the roof told him that she wouldn’t accept his feelings. But he needed to get it out, needed to tell her before she died. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” She replied quietly before switching off her radio. Silence fell over the jet as she allowed the engine to shut off. Bucky flew past her, further into space, having not anticipated her sudden drop. 

She was alone again, free falling toward the earth once more like she had mere hours before. Although this fall would be much more fatal. More destructive. 

As she angled her jet straight toward the enemy jet, switching back on her engine and accelerating at deadly speeds, she found herself without a single comment. 

Not one word slipped past her lips as flames consumed her before she could even feel the impact. 

•••

The apartment was familiar. It was an apartment she had left to Weasel when she made a more permanent stay at the compound. She still visited from time to time but it didn’t look like this anymore. No, this place still had the messy bed with scribbled words on the chalkboard above it. It still had the colorful table and the warming sunlight shining through, a light Weasel usually blocked with curtains. Still had the memory wall full of pictures of her and Wade, a wall that was now bare. 

This was her and Wade’s home. 

“Red?” His voice rang out like heavenly bells and Y/n’s head whipped toward the sound. There he was, seated in the leather chair near the window. He looked just like he had the night she lost him. His hair was short and barely styled, having only grown a small amount in the time she had known him. There was a small amount of stubble along his lower face but his next words quickly dominated her observations. 

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t answer, wanting to study his face as long as she could. She wanted to refresh her mind with the image of his loving eyes and adorning smile. Wanted to forever remember the slit in his eyebrow from a long forgotten fight and the way his hands gripped the arms of the chair as he stood. 

“I died…again. I know you said it wasn’t my time but I just hoped, maybe this time it was?” Y/n spoke carefully, stepping forward, finding that the clothes she had worn seconds before had been replaced with one of Wade’s large t-shirts. 

Instead of moving to hold her and tell her she was right, that her time had finally come, he let his gaze fall. Her heart clenched in her chest and angry tears filled her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall, refused to let her chance at seeing Wade be cut short by her uncontrollable tears. 

“Who’s in charge of all this shit? Who fucked us over so bad that we can never be together?” Y/n snapped, turning her teary gaze toward the ground. She couldn’t bare to stare at the blurred wall separating her from Wade. Couldn’t stand to show up here time and time again only to be refused the one person she wanted most. 

“I don’t know, baby. Trust me if I did, you wouldn’t be there and I wouldn’t be here.” His voice was almost like a forgotten memory and Y/n hated her mind for allowing it to slip so far from her thoughts. He always spoke to her with such a tenderness, a tenderness he never used with anyone else. 

“I wanna stay with you.” Y/n pleaded, struggling to lift her eyes from the floor. Wade had begun to frown at her wish. She didn’t know why.

It was a sad frown like he wanted so desperately to agree but couldn’t. Wade knew his love still had a purpose in life and he couldn’t be selfish by asking her to stay. In the end nothing could make her stay, even if she begged for it on her knees. Because she still had a life waiting for her. A life without him. 

“Things are complicated now.” Wade tried to explain, moving closer to her. This wasn’t what Y/n wanted to hear and she stood in place, not moving an inch as hurt overcame her. 

“What do you mean?” Y/n questioned, trying not to sound as vulnerable as she knew she was. She wanted it to be over. To finally get the life with Wade she never had. But she could feel something tugging her back. It grew stronger with each passing second and she knew soon it’d reclaim her. But the feeling didn’t make her angry. She wasn’t upset. 

The feeling was overwhelming but in a good way. Like when someone says 'I love you’ for the first time. 

“Bucky.” Wade confessed suddenly, dragging Y/n’s attention away from the tug.  

“What-…?" 

"He loves you. You know that. Our times up baby.” His voice was miserable but stern. They never spoke so seriously before, even in the previous times she’d reached him in the afterlife. Every word was true even if it was his worst nightmare. And Y/n knew how much it pained him to say it. 

“No it can’t. I-” She tried to argue but found that there were no words to dismiss it. The tug was getting more powerful and familiarity washed over her. The tug was Bucky. He was her tether to the world and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t let him go. 

But she couldn’t let Wade go either. 

“He loves you and as much as I want to do horrible, horrible things to him, I can’t. He can love you, hold you- fuck, he could give you a baby. All the things I can’t anymore.” Wade’s voice cracked and Y/n’s own tears began to fall, shaking her head at the mere thought of letting anyone other than him love her like that. 

“I need you to let me go before this gets too hard.” Wade begged. 

It broke Y/n to see him so lost, so shattered. This hurt him just as much as it hurt her but he was strong enough to push on. To tell her what she knew she needed to do, even if it was the last thing she wanted. 

He’d always been stronger than her. 

“Will we ever be together again?" 

In response, she received no words. Just a smile. A smile that told her everything would be okay. That no matter what happened it would be them against the world, even if she found love from another man. That smile told her more than any verbal answer could and put to rest the longing in her heart. 

"Kiss me like you miss me, Red." 

A bittersweet laughter echoed between them as she looked at him. All the love she’d felt for him was still lingering in her chest and she knew it’d never truly be gone. But another love was still there, one that was growing stronger like the tug she now felt.  

"Well, come here." 

Wade paced forward, moving through the barrier effortlessly and tugged her close to him like he had many times before. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he pulled her up by her thighs, planting his lips on hers without missing a beat. 

Kisses with Wade were always passionate and hot but this one was different. His hold on her was tight like he knew it would be the last and his lips lightly caressed hers, pouring every ounce of adoration he had for her into the kiss. Y/n clung to him like her life depended it, feeling the tug become so powerful she feared she’d be ripped from his arms. When they pulled away there were no words spoken, just a gaze. 

Then she was pulled back. 

•••

When she woke up, she couldn’t feel anything, not even the air that flushed into her exposed lungs. Her chest was slowly piecing itself together and judging by her pounding headache, she figured her skull was doing the same.  

She no longer felt pain the same way others did and while she knew the process of her body morphing back to normal would be excruciating, that pain was dulled to her. All she could focus on was the voice calling out to her. 

It was only then that she looked around at where she was. The ground was cold under her skin, or at least what skin she had feeling in so far. The smoke from the crash was bellowing into the night sky above her but she couldn’t smell it. She was only just beginning to feel the nips of heat from the fire biting at her arms and legs, though she wasn’t sure if they were even attached to her anymore. 

The voice cut through the chaos like a beacon and Y/n couldn’t help but feel relaxed by it. It was soothing and a reassurance of safety came with it. 

Soon the owner of the voice forced his way through the debris, finding her battered body torn apart among the aftermath of the destruction. His eyes flashed with horror but he wasted no time in moving forward, yanking a heavy piece of metal out of her chest to free her. Y/n watched, not even knowing she had been impaled. 

Bucky had seen many horrible scenes before, most of them having been by his own hand but this was terrible. He was unsure if it was the fact that she’d done this to herself or if it was that she was forced to stay alive throughout the entire thing, but either way it unnerved him and he felt the need to get her out of there immediately. 

He grabbed hold of her torso, pulling her up into his arms and taking notice of the fact that one of her legs and ¾ of her left arm was missing along with most of her chest. But despite this she just smiled at him, leaning further into him. 

"Hey, Seb. Oh, wait, fourth wall! Fuck me!” A delusional giggle escaped her and Bucky brushed off her comment, trying to focus on getting her out. He wasn’t sure where her limbs had gone or if he should try to retrieve them but Y/n slowly losing consciousness in his arms urged him to get out of there and he did just that. 

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay. We’ll get you back to the med bay and you’ll be good as new.” He smiled at her and she nodded, knowing he was right. Didn’t make the process of self healing any less uncomfortable. 

But she couldn’t think of that right now. Wade’s words were still fresh in her mind. 

'He loves you. You know that.’

“Bucky.” She croaked, her own anxiety for what she was about to say overpowering everything else. The disaster around her didn’t matter and neither did the cracks in her chest as her ribs reformed. All that mattered was getting her words out before she lost consciousness. Before she lost her nerve. 

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’ll get you out of here.” Bucky assured, dismissing her call. Y/n frowned, reaching to grab hold of his face only to realize her arm had not yet grown back. She cursed silently, looking up at him. That crash was really a bitch. 

“Would you get your head out of your ass and listen to me?” She insisted, hating how vulnerable she was making herself. She hated being so emotionally weak in front of anyone other than Wade but she tried to listen to his wish. Tried to let him go. 

“Look, I care about you, alright?” She confessed, noting the way Bucky’s arms tightened on her and how he stilled instantly. “Ever since they fridged Wade, I never thought I’d care about anyone like I did him. But then you came along with your perfect smile and perfect eyes and ugh-God, why is this so hard?!” A groan escaped her as she let her gaze fall from him. It had always been easy with Wade, they fell into place like puzzle pieces but with Bucky it was harder. More real. 

His fingers curled around her waist, feeling the skin reshaping under his metal fingertips. Y/n was just loopy from the crash, he couldn’t take her confession seriously right? 

“Y/n, I-" 

"I know, I’m sorry. What I did on the roof was wrong, I was just scared-I’m-I’m still scared.” She admitted, her hold on him tightening desperately. Bucky frowned, guilt flooding him for putting her in such a conflicting and uncomfortable situation. 

He should’ve never said anything, should’ve never put her in the position where she had to force herself to move on from a lost love. It was wrong and terribly unfair. 

“Forget it, let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?” He replied, watching as her eyes grew heavy, losing her fight to stay awake. The looked like she wanted to argue but before she could she fell unconscious, allowing him to finally focus on escaping the wreck though his mind was cluttered with guilt and self hatred. 

It wasn’t fair. But then again life never was. 

•••

When Y/n woke up again her body was almost completely healed. Other agents were cautiously refilling the building after ensuring that no other HYDRA attacks were imminent. They had no reason to return after all, the drive was destroyed and as far as they knew, the information had gone down with Y/n. 

Bucky told himself he’d finally look at what the drive held since HYDRA had put up such a fight for it but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Y/n’s bedside. 

She’d been hooked up to several machines that would help her heal, something she’d surely throw a fit about when she awoke. She’d told them plenty of times that she didn’t need the whole 'hospital bullshit’ but it was just procedure. Plus Bucky suspected the medical personnel liked to piss her off as much as she did them. 

He would’ve found her curses amusing when she finally did regain consciousness but his nerves were too great. They’d left off in a serious and rather suspenseful moment and he almost wanted to disappear all together. 

Talking with Y/n was what he’d wanted to do all this time and best case scenario, he’d finally win her over. But he knew the worst case was more likely. He’d always managed to fuck things up and this was no different. 

He was wrong to force his feelings upon her and while he felt guilt and knew he’d be rejected, he wouldn’t have taken it back. It felt freeing to tell her. He was actually relieved she knew how much he cared for her. 

“What in the fuck nuggets is this bullshit?” Y/n snapped suddenly, yanking the IV from her arm and tossing it away from her with an annoyed glare. “I already told you guys-.” She stopped mid sentence, upon seeing Bucky sitting there. 

He looked tired and she wanted to make a joke to ease the nervous stare he directed at her but she couldn’t bring herself too. In the last 24 hours she’d been an emotional train wreck and while her heart screamed to tell Bucky whatever he wanted to hear, she knew things were more complicated than that. 

And deep down he knew that too. 

“Look, about what I said after the crash.” She began, running a hand through her hair. Bucky watched as she did so, hanging onto her every word. He’d remembered what she said or at least what it sounded like she was going to say. But had she meant it or was it out of pity? 

“I want you, okay?” She confessed, expelling all doubt from his mind. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush and quite frankly she was tired of struggling for words. So she spoke from the heart, even if it wasn’t very romantic. “I’ve liked you for a while but-…Wade’s death still hurts.” She continued. 

Bucky sat on the edge of his seat, his heart pounding in his chest as she spoke. It’d been so long since he’d had a chance at love and he already felt as though he’d messed it up. But then again they’d always been a little messy. 

“But I wanna try this. I know I said I wasn’t ready for anything serious but I wanna try us no matter how fucked up we are together.” Y/n told him, reaching for his metal hand and clasping it in both of hers. “I wanna fuck the world with you. I wanna fuck it so hard.” She smiled, earning a laugh from him.  

Her confession was overwhelming and clumsy but he took it like it was. Y/n was an overwhelming person and he was ready for that. He was so ready for whatever mayhem she had to offer. 

“Fuck the world, huh?” He questioned, amused as her eyes lit up with joy. 

“Yeah. You and me, Buck.” She promised, holding his hand tightly. His heart swelled at her words, shifting to sit on the bed with her as she leaned closer to him. 

“Deadpool and Winter Soldier. I kinda like it.” He said, smiling at her as she smirked. Dirty words began to develop on her tongue and before Bucky could even realize what he’d walked himself into, she was leaning toward his ear, her breath brushing his skin and leaving chills in its wake. 

“I bet you’ll like it even more when I say it in bed won’t you, Winter Soldier.” She spoke in his ear, her voice smooth and sultry. His face had flooded red but he refused to let himself get all flustered and speechless. 

There was once a time where he was a lady’s man and while he knew he was probably a little out of date, he was a fast study. And having known Y/n all this time had taught him a few things. 

“Only if you scream it." 

Y/n paused, looking back at him with a mix of shock and pride. She was at a loss for words and Bucky quickly accepted his victory, launching forward and putting his lips on hers. 

Despite her lustful comments her kiss was tender and passionate, a kind of kiss he’d longed from her for some time. A kiss that although hesitant was strong and heartfelt. 

They had some work to do and while their relationship would be chaotic, it was their chaos and he couldn’t ask for anything more. 

"I gotta know something.” Y/n admitted suddenly, pulling away from the kiss. Bucky was a little confused but nodded anyway, wondering what on Earth would be so important. 

“Who taught the Russo brothers about time travel, Endgame was so fucked."   

[stefciastark]

Hallucinations ~ Webpril Day 19

A/N: WARNING (briefly mentioned graphic violence, but nothing extreme, just putting a warning in case). After a hallucinogenic gas explodes in Peter's face during a mission, he is plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. Tony steps in to help. Apologies for any inconsistencies or general bad flow on this one, I had to write in a bit of a hurry before an early A.M class tomorrow and I haven't had a chance to give it a once-over. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Kid, kid! Stop!” Tony grasped Peter’s wrists as they flew once more towards his face, and he staggered forwards with an ungraceful jerk, almost falling onto the bed. How the hell was the kid this strong?

“Get off me!” Peter thrashed on the bed wildly, eyes open but looking feral and petrified. Peter’s response was purely instinctual, and nature had chosen ‘fight’ as his defense mechanism. It was too bad Tony wasn’t in his suit to help contain it.

After an incident a few days prior involving a gaseous compound that caused vivid hallucinations, Peter hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep since. Neither had Tony. The kid had been caught right in the face with the gas during the few seconds that his mask was down, whilst Tony was lucky enough to have his built in air filtration system save him from the hell that ensued.

Peter didn’t talk about what he experienced. At least not to Tony, but Tony couldn’t quite think of anybody else that Peter would go to. Tony really wished the kid would open up to someone.

The dim light from the ensuite bathroom cast light on Tony’s forearms. They were covered in bruises that looked like scattered wine stains with the varying shades of deep red and purple.

Peter’s struggles dissolved in intensity, and his eyes slid shut again. The poor kid was exhausted, and each - almost - sleepless night was taking its toll.

Once Tony was sure Peter was asleep once more, judging by the now even breathing, he slid to the carpet below, back leaning against the side of the bed. Feeling powerless to help the young Avenger, he stared blankly into the wall, suddenly transported back to a time when he suffered much like Peter was.

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

“Good morning, Peter. It is currently 9:30 A.M. Today it will be slightly overcast with a high of 73.4 degrees. You have no upcoming events. Enjoy your morning.”

With a groan, Peter rolled over and covered his head with an adjacent pillow. This was the first time in a long time that F.R.I.D.A.Y had woken him up. Closing his eyes once more, he prepared to re-enter the world of sleep.

That plan immediately was foiled as “Thunderstruck” blared over his room’s speakers.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” Peter whined, sounding more like a spoiled toddler than he cared to admit.

“I apologise, but this is part of Mr Stark’s ‘Couch Potato’ protocol. If you do not leave the bed in the next thirty seconds, I will have to initiative Phase 2, which involves-”

“Okay, okay!” Throwing the sheets to the side, he swung his legs off the side of the mattress. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the music stopped, and he sighed in relief. At any other time he would have loved the sound of classic rock, but he felt overstimulated and irritated by almost every sound, sight, and whatever else assaulted any of his senses.

The rational part of his brain told him that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was a probable culprit. Maybe it was spending so much time around Tony “I’m Fine” Stark, but Peter didn’t particularly want to address the issue. He was strong, he could brute force his way through it, no problem. As far as he was concerned, none of the other Avengers were getting psychological help - although in all fairness they needed it - and he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t handle the mental duress that went with being an Avenger.

Half-conscious, he went through the automatic routine of having a shower, brushing his teeth, and throwing on a basic outfit. Today’s choice consisted of jeans and a Hawkeye T-Shirt that Clint had unironically bought him last Christmas. Blearily shuffling into the kitchen, Peter considered taking up drinking coffee in the mornings; it seemed to be universally known as the almighty bean juice that provided a form of liquid Carpe Diem.

He half expected the whole Avengers team to be in the common kitchen area. They usually were in the mornings, but today it was dead quiet. Dead quiet except for Tony, who was flicking through the latest issue of Wired magazine. In his left hand was a mug that said “World’s Okayest CEO”. Peter had to guess that that mug was courtesy of Pepper. If it were up to Tony, ‘okayest’ would have been swapped with ‘best’.

“You know, these photos don’t really do me justice. I’m much sexier in person. I mean look at this,” Tony flipped the magazine around, showing Peter an article that summarised Tony’s latest successes and blunders. The photo Tony’s finger was tapping on was of Tony at the Stark Expo a few months ago. His smile blatantly looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

Peter opened his mouth to send a smart remark in response, but instead he froze in place, air stuck in his lungs, his throat jumping as he struggled to get words out. The sound of percolation coming from the coffee pot dredged up the memory he was trying to forget: the dripping of blood - Tony’s blood - creating a macabre mosaic on the pavement as he hung suspended by cables and wires. Steve’s hand had been wrapped around Peter’s ankle in a silent beg for release from life, a large shard of glass having punctured through his chest. The worst of all of them was Aunt May, eyes staring open and lifeless, neck bent at an unnatural and gruesome angle that was burned into Peter’s retinas for the rest of time. On all sides, marching towards him, had been an army consisting of Doombots, Chitauri, and the remaining Avengers. Those he had come to trust had come to betray him.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re alright, c’mon.” Tony’s brow was furrowed, and although his voice sounded distant and miles away, it was gentle and full of understanding. Peter shook his head, shaking the visions away with it.

“Grab your phone and wallet, kid, I’ve made you an appointment.” Tony swept up his sunglasses - this time tinted orange with a silver frame - off of the coffee table and tucked his phone into the inside of his jacket pocket.

“An-an appointment? For what?” Peter was taken by surprise, fully expecting - and hoping - to vegetate on the couch that day. The TV turned his mind off, the white noise drowning out the visions that replayed in his mind over and over again.

Placing a comforting hand between Peter’s shoulders once Peter had returned from a quick phone and wallet retrieval mission, Tony guided him towards the elevator. Pressing the ‘down’ button, he turned towards Peter. “Taking you to a psych. I don’t know how to-” Tony gestured vaguely, lost for the right words he wanted to say. He sighed, and started again. “I didn’t exactly deal with my stuff the right way. Didn’t think I ever needed a shrink, but let me tell you, one conversation with Bruce and it changed my mind completely.”

“Isn’t he not that type of doctor?”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m trying to have a heartfelt father-son moment with you here and break the whole cycle of shame about…” Tony trailed off again, seething internally at his inability to string a semi-coherent sentence together. “My dad didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff,” Tony continued, eyes darting to the elevator display and then returning back to Peter. “Anyways, you’ve been having nightmares. You can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because you can’t sleep, and,” Tony winced, “I don’t think the whole counselling shtick is my forte.”

As the elevator doors chimed open, Peter stepped forward and promptly wrapped his arms around Tony in a heartfelt hug. Clenching his eyes shut against tears that threatened to overflow, he murmured, “thanks, Mr Stark” into the fabric of Tony’s jacket.