#except I'm starting to realize that if I've had this visions in my head for 10 years....

[seawitchkaraoke]

hey artists how tf do you learn to draw people bc I've never been particularly good at drawing but I can manage plants and I can manage stuff that's vaguely geometric but humans? Impossible. But also I have animatics in my head that have been in there for 10 years and at some point I can't keep waiting for them to make a silmarillion TV show to give me footage to use so I guess I gotta learn how to draw faces and how proportions work and shit

[wwooyology]

SIM JAEYUN HARD THOUGHT

「warning」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is for all my girlies with an oral fixation and a tongue ring... I am also girlies... I have had this thought stuck in my head for the longest time imaginable so I've finally brought it to life. might make a full fic based off this in the future, idk yet.

「word count」 : 0.7k

you knew jake had an oral fixation, always needing to have something in his mouth, whether that be his lips, yours, or a piece of candy. however, as your relationship grew, he would find any reason to have his lips on your skin.

though during your time with Jake, you, yourself, had started to form an oral fixation. it even got to the point that you had gotten a tongue piercing in hopes of quelling the urge to stick random things in your mouth.

and it did... for a short amount of time.

until you realized the effect it had on your boyfriend whenever you would give him head. the whines and whimpers that would fall from his kiss-swollen lips every time you would press the piece of jewelry against his swollen cock.

"f-fuck baby." he groaned once more, his fingers lacing through your hair, tugging softly as you moved further down his shaft. his eyes rolling to the back of his head when the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat.

when it came to moments like this, when you have him cumming in your mouth within minutes of wrapping your pretty lips around his hard dick, you knew that the piercing was a good idea. just maybe not for the original reason that you had gotten it. if anything, it just made your oral fixation worse because now you wanted to take any chance you could to use your new 'toy' on your sensitive boyfriend.

"c-cummimg. fuck I'm cumming!" jake let out what you would call a mixture of a whine and a groan. his hips buck up into your mouth as he paints the walls of your throat white with his seed.

you hummed at the taste causing his grip to tighten on your hair in hopes of pulling you off of his overestimated dick, but you stayed put for a few moments longer before slowly pulling off. your thighs rubbed together underneath you as whimpers fell from jake's pretty lips.

pulling off of him, you give him a few kitten licks to his tip, making sure to drag your piercing along his slit, relishing in the way his whole body shivered at the feeling.

you continue to tease him with your tongue and hands, licking up all of the cum and spit that coated his length. not stopping until he was rock hard in your hands once more.

"baby, p-please... n- fuck. no more, please." jake hissed through his teeth as you traced along his slit once more, hands tugging at your hair.

with one last lick, you pulled away from jake's throbbing dick resulting in a deep groan to tear from his lungs at the sudden loss of touch. however, you didn't stray too far for too long, kissing up his toned tummy and chest, nipping at his collarbone, neck, and jaw before sealing his lips with yours.

he groaned against your lips at the taste of himself on your tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you into his lap. your tongue runs along the inside of his teeth; a soft rattling comes from how your ring hit his teeth.

pulling away to catch your breath, you watched in amusement as jake chased after your lips, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours. his grip on your hips tight as you shifted to allow his tip to prod at your entrance.

"think you can handle another one, jakey?" you asked teasingly as he leaned forward to latch his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin until dark purple and red splotches were left behind.

he didn't give you any response except for the harsh thrust of his ups upward to fully encase himself in your heat, resulting in a strangled cry to leave your lips at the sudden intrusion.

"f-fuck, jake!" you cried out as he started to piston his hips up into yours, stars dancing across your vision as his tip rammed into your cervix mercilessly.

"wanna be such a fucking tease?" he growled against your skin before biting down harshly, making your body tremble, "then you're gonna have to reap what you sow, princess."

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛ��ᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 1

Negan x Glenn’sSister!Reader

Summary: You escaped Alexandria to mourn the death of your twin brother, Glenn, only to have an unforgettable night with the man who killed him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, heavy making out, mentions of family death

Idea requested by anon. Thank you 🫶 song inspo here

It's been one month since the lineup - the day Negan took my twin brother's life. I left Alexandria the moment Maggie returned and told me what happened to Glenn. I wasn't there there for the line up, and I hate myself for it. I could've convinced Negan to kill me instead. My brother had a family, a wife, a baby on the way. Much more to offer this world than me.

I've never seen Negan or his men. I know nothing about him, except that he's going to regret taking Glenn from me. Because I've made it my life's mission to destroy him. Even if I have to go down with him.

But for now, I needed an escape and time to mourn, so I found an abandoned cabin nearby to stay in for a while. A few things were left there by the previous residents - enough to get me by for at least a couple months. The cabin is hidden in the middle of the woods, which is probably why no one has found me all this time. Until now.

It was just getting dark and starting to storm after I settled on the couch to read a book. I fell asleep moments later, listening to the rain pour when the sound of the front door creaking open startled me. Before I could get up to grab my gun, a tall man in a soaked leather jacket entered and closed the door behind him. I was frozen to the couch when I locked eyes with him.

“You here alone?” He asked.

I nodded before realizing that was a stupid thing to admit to a stranger that could easily kill me on the spot. “Um, for now. My husband should be back soon.” I lied.

He chuckled, nodding his head like he didn’t believe me. “Well darlin, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just need a place to stay for the night before I head home. I promise I’m not a threat.” He flashed his pretty, white teeth at me.

“I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a complete stranger.”

He sighed like I annoyed him before reluctantly taking his gun out of his pants and kicking it towards me on the floor. His hair was black, slicked back and dripping with water. Oh, and he was stupidly handsome.

“Fine. You can take the couch.”

He nodded appreciatively, setting his bag down by the front door. “Got a shower?”

“Bathrooms down the hall to your right.”

He nodded again before making his way to the bathroom and I exhaled a long breath. This was the first human interaction I've had since leaving Alexandria two weeks ago. It felt strange being in the presence of someone alive.

Realizing he would need something to change into after his shower, I gathered some men's clothes out of the dresser from my bedroom and went to lay them on the floor outside of the bathroom. Just as I was placing them down, the bathroom door opened, clouding my vision with steam. He stood before me shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I blushed. “Oh, my bad. Was just going to drop these here for you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He took them out of my hand, grinning down at me.

My eyes wandered down his wet torso, following the drops of water that lead from the black pirate tattoo on his pecs to the perfectly carved v in his abdomen. This was going to be a long night.

Two hours and a bottle of wine later:

My feet were propped on his lap as I lied on the couch, laughing at every lame joke he made. This man was patient, considering he’s been listening to me overshare every detail of my life for the past hour. Every detail but Glenn. I'm not ready to talk about what happened out loud and especially not to a stranger.

He was hesitant to talk about his personal life at first, but I quickly broke down his walls and in a short time, I felt like I knew more about him than any other human on the planet. We focused on the past, taking turns telling each other about our lives before the dead started walking.

“Wait, wait. A high school gym coach? I bet all the girls had a crush on you.”

His thumb teased my ankle while his other arm rested lazily on the back of the couch. “Why would you assume that?” He chuckled.

I blushed, realizing just how tipsy I was. “Look at you. You’re like, insanely hot.” The liquid courage had definitely taken over.

He smirked, rubbing the bare skin on my lower leg. “Shouldn’t your husband have been back by now?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sat up, setting my feet on the ground and scooching closer to him as I got comfortable again. “I lied earlier. I just didn’t want you to be some psycho murderer.” I said, rolling my eyes as if the thought were crazy.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Are you?” Leaning in closer, I rested my cheek on the the back of the couch and grinned at him.

“These days, aren’t we all?”

I stayed silent for a moment, looking for any sign of seriousness in his eyes. “Even if you are, I trust you.”

His eyebrows raised. “That’s pretty bold of you, doll. You know nothing about me.”

“I know you were a high school gym coach.” I reached for his hand and he gladly accepted, rubbing the back of mine with his thumb. “And that your wife’s name was Lucille. And that this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. This is your hideaway too - when you just need to get away.” I rambled on and he never took his eyes off mine. “Oh and your favorite color? Definitely black.”

“Another assumption?”

“Am I wrong?”

He chuckled. “No.” His eyes darted back and forth between mine. “Why do I feel like we’ve met before?”

“Maybe we were soulmates in another life.” I giggled.

“I’m not doubting it, doll. Feels like I've known you forever.”

My gaze dropped to his lips and he followed, leaning in closer. Closing the gap between us, I pressed my lips to his. They were soft but the stubble around them tickled me and I imagined the same sensation between my legs.

His hand slid through the silky strands of my hair, gripping it gently while pulling my closer to deepen the kiss. He tasted like wine and smelled like aftershave, and I never wanted the moment to end.

My fingers explored his damp hair while his tongue explored my mouth. With subtle moans escaping our throats, we got high off each other. Eventually his hand roamed to the end of my tank top, making chills spread over my skin. His fingers brushed slightly underneath it, trailing smoothly over my waistline and barely dipping into my shorts.

I pulled him closer, urging him to climb over me while I layed back on the couch. He held himself up with one arm as he hovered over me, settling between my legs as he kissed me.

Slipping my hand underneath his white t-shirt, I rubbed his toned stomach before following the happy trail down to his shorts and finding his hard cock pressing against the material . He was long and thick and in my hand while I stroked him. His head fell beside mine as he groaned in my ear, thrusting into my touch.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice was low and raspy.

My hips aligned with his waist until I felt the tip of him through his shorts pressing directly into my center. Luckily both of our shorts were thin enough to feel just enough friction as he slowly pushed into me over and over and over.

He fucked me slowly through our clothes, making me moan and scratch at his back. I've never done this before - with clothes on. But it somehow feels better than the actual thing. At least anything I've ever experienced. I became wetter with each of his thrusts and my heart raced in my lower core.

“We should stop, baby. As much as I would love to make you scream for me all night..” He paused, kissing below my ear. We’ve both been drinking.” He sounded like he was talking himself out of it, and I respected him for it.

I sighed. “You’re right.”

He grinned down at me before kissing my forehead. “You are so fucking beautiful. Why are you out here alone? What are you running from?”

There it is. The only thing we hadn’t talked about yet. And never will.

“It’s getting late. We should go to bed soon.”

His head dropped defeatedly but he nodded. “Right, fine.”

He climbed off of me, sitting back on couch, but I wasn’t ready to leave him yet. I looked down, noticing my book on the ground and picked it up before handing it to him. He raised an eyebrow at me but took it.

“Read to me?” I asked, grinning before lying back down and cuddling my head in his lap. He adjusted slightly, still hard from moments ago.

“You want me to read to you?” He chuckled, opening the pages and finding the spot where I left off.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, snuggling in closer and closing my eyes. His smooth voice put me to sleep in no time.

The next morning:

The sun peaking through the bedroom window and a pounding headache woke me up. I sat up quickly, remembering the events of last night.

Jumping out of bed, I looked all around the house, but there was no trace of him. His bag was gone, and every trace of our night together was erased except the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

Was I going crazy? Was he even real? Was it all a dream?

These are the questions that kept me up at night while the days ran together and became longer. My hopes of my mystery man coming back were out the window, and I was starting to think being alone out here was making me mental.

A couple weeks later, I decided it was time to return to Alexandra and leave behind the memories of him. I left home to mourn Glenn, and now I’m leaving another safe haven to mourn the loss of someone else.

On my journey back, I did a lot of self reflecting, promising myself I’d never get close to someone again. I’m tired of losing people. Even ones who may not exist. I’ll go home and forget about him and focus on what matters. Getting justice for my brother.

Part 2 here

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)

Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.

He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.

Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.

Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.

"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"

SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.

"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"

And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!

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

Clark has no idea what's happening.

He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.

Not unusual, right?

Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!

Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?

Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.

This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!

Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!

Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-

A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??

What in the world-

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

"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"

Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.

"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"

"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"

Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."

And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.

"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female and above average height.

****Previous chapter

At the compound they were still trying to find where Nat and Rainbow had disappeared to when Tony hollered "YES! I've got it. I know how to find her."*****

Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing, angst, violence

Bucky bolted to Tony's side to see what he had found and stared at him expectantly "Well?"

Tony turned to see him right in Tony's face "A little space, Barnes."

Bucky scoffed and backed up "Fine"

Tony looked at Bucky and Sam before glaring at Steve "Well, obviously I had FRIDAY searching for Y/N and Nat but no luck so far. Then it hit me, she left with her sister Yelena so I found some video from her visit and Friday is searching for her now, too." He grinned, pleased with himself.

Bucky nodded "Yeah, that's not a bad idea" he sighed heavily "I hope it works."

After a few hours Friday alerted them "Mr Stark? I found her, Yelena Belova was just sighted in a Kroger in Cleveland, Ohio."

Tony grinned "Send the Iron Legion to detain Miss Belova"

"Yes, boss"

"WAIT!" Bucky shouted.

Tony looked over at him, brows raised in question.

Bucky shook his head "The Iron Legion isn't very stealth. If Nat even thinks we're on to her she might pack Rainbow up and bolt somewhere and..." He trailed off before Sam spoke up

"And what?"

Bucky was lost in thought for a moment not realizing that all eyes were on him "She was raised in Ohio, with Yelena. Before her training in the red room, to acclimate her to the states and work on her accent."

He looked up to see everyone staring "What if they're staying at their childhood home?"

Sam stared "Do you know where in Ohio? Maybe we can narrow it down. Like set up in the general area before picking up Yelena?"

Bucky shook his head "No, maybe. Fuck I don't remember exactly, just Ohio."

Tony nodded "Alright, fair point. How about we just send Vision ahead since he can fly and be practically invisible? He can pick up Yelena and find a discrete place for us to meet them."

Everyone sounded their agreement and after a kiss from Wanda, Vision was on his way.

Tony looked at the team, pointedly passing Steve over "Suit up kids, wheels up in 10."

Steve headed towards the quinjet hangar before Bucky stopped him "Not a chance, Rogers, you're waiting here."

Steve started to protest before Tony nodded "Yeah, Barnes is right you can wait here. I think the rest of us can handle Nat and her sister if she gets involved. So go take a nap or whatever and we'll see you later."

Steve bristled "No way I'm sitting this out, you need me. Y/N needs me." The last part was almost under his breath but Bucky heard.

Bucky took a few deep breaths to keep from hurting him "Y/N needs you? Like when you spent most of your relationship with her off fucking Nat? Like when you helped Nat coordinate this bullshit and would be doing god knows what to Y/N right fucking now if Nat hadn't betrayed you?"

His eyes burned into Steve as he fought to keep control "It's your goddamn fault that she's in Natasha hands and I think I speak for the team when I say we can't trust you. You're just as likely to betray us and try to sneak away with her as you are to help in any way.'

A chorus of agreement followed Bucky's words and Steve deflated. "Fine, I'll go on my own."

Tony shook his head "I don't think so, can't have you coming in with your own agenda."

Steve laughed "You can't hold me prisoner here, I'll-" he looked at Tonys armored hand and grabbed at the sting in his neck "What the-' he almost dropped to the floor but Bucky caught him and threw him over his shoulder then carried him to Steve's room, dropping him on the bed.

Once Bucky left Steve's room Tony spoke up "I knew those tranq darts would come in handy. Friday. Please keep the Captain locked in until we return."

"Yes boss."

As they boarded the quinjet 10 minutes later they heard from Vision "Miss Belova is with me and we will be waiting for you..." and rattled off the coordinates.

Tony grinned, finally something good "You heard the, uh man? Friday take us to his coordinates, fast as you can. Everyone strap in."

They landed in an empty field and when they opened the ramp Vision walked Yelena into the jet, and the ramp closed behind them.

Yelena looked at the team with disdain "What are you assholes doing here? We left the city like you asked so now what do you want? Wasn't it enough to kick her out of your so called family?"

Bucky tried to keep his voice calm "It would have been plenty if she hadn't decided to kidnap Y/N on her way out."

Yelena scoffed "Why would she do that? We have enough to do to find the rest of the widows, after Natalia gets some rest. That's why we stopped here for a few days. I would know if there was another person with us."

Clint shook his head "Are you sure? She couldn't have Y/N hidden away somewhere on the property? Maybe somewhere that she's spending time to "recuperate"? She lied to you about the whole drama so maybe she's still hiding something."

Yelena started to object before her eyes widened "No, she wouldn't I mean she couldn't but........She's been hiding in the basement. Said she had some kind of project to help find the missing widows. She was so distraught about leaving the Avengers that I thought I should give her some space."

She shook her head

"I should have known she was up to something, girl never knew how to let anything go."

Suddenly Yelena's phone rang "it's her"

she paused for a moment before answering

"What's up sestra? Oh sorry I didn't realize how late it was getting, I've just been chatting with some of the locals. No I'm fine, I'll be home in a few."

They set up a rough plan and the team waited 30 minutes for Yelena to get home and settle in before converging around the property to ensure Nat couldn't get past them.

Bucky and Clint took the lead through the front door, being the more stealthy members of the team. Sam followed right behind. Wanda and Bruce stayed further back to make sure Nat didn't escape. Vision went through the outer basement door, while Tony stayed behind to make sure she didn't try to sneak out that way. Wanda set up a field surrounding the property. Bruce just stood back hoping there wouldn't be a code green for the woman he had once loved. His feelings for her were gone but he didn't know what the other guy would do to her.

Yelena let the first two into the house and showed them the door to the basement.

Clint went first hoping that their friendship would be enough to distract her so the others could get to Rainbow.

When the door opened the slight creaking caught Nats attention

"What are you doing Yelena? I told you not to come down here, I still haven't quite been able to work this properly"

She was standing at a work bench next to a wall of fresh drywall with a door. She jumped as an arrow hit the wall, barely missing her face, then quickly turned to face him.

"Clint? Very funny. It's about fucking time you remembered who your real friend is. Go hang out with Yelena, I'll be up in a little bit."

Clint scoffed "Friends, right. You need to let her go, she never did anything to you."

Nat looked at him in shock before quickly pulling herself together "She who? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm working on a way to find-"

Clint interrupted. "I know she's here, Natasha. Please, for the sake of our friendship, let her go before this gets out of hand."

She smirked at him "You gonna try to take me down? Maybe if I was alone but I have Yelena on my side and you don't stand a chance."

Clint shook his head "No one is on your side except maybe Rogers and he's not here. You've gone off the rails and taken someone who doesn't deserve your ire." He paused, sad that his closest friend had come to this.

"Besides, I'm not alone and I don't want to hurt you. None of us do. Well maybe Barnes but you can stop this madness and let her go."

Nat snapped "Fuck you Barton that little bitch is leaving here one little piece at a time and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Bucky stepped out of the shadows

"How about me, Natalia? Anything I can do to stop you? I'm not Barton and don't have any reservations hurting you if that's what's needed."

Nat eyes grew wide with fear, knowing first hand what the soldier was capable of, before she quickly composed herself

"Aawww, the Soldat came to rescue his little princess but I'm not quite done with her yet."

Bucky bristled "You're done, Natalia. Done as an Avenger, as a SHIELD agent, as our family or friend, as a free woman. Let her go now before you're done living."

While Bucky and Clint kept Nat distracted, Vision found Y/N, bruised bloodied and half dead, and worked to release the binds keeping her in the chair. Once he had her freed he decided not to remove the knife still in her stomach so she didn't bleed out. When he went to carefully pick her up the chair fell over and made a loud noise.

Nat jumped at the noise and turned towards the door in the drywall "Dammit, you and your friends are ruining everything. Why do you even care so much about a stupid little girl?"

When she opened the door it slammed her into the wall, stunning her as Vision walked to the stairs and out of the house with Rainbow. Vision advised Bruce that he had her and was on his way, giving all the info he had on her condition.

Bucky was distracted for a moment when he saw the terrible shape she was in. He felt like his heart stopped as his eyes followed her up the stairs until they were out of view.

Then he turned to Nat, jaw clenched, face turning red, hands balling into fists and soft whirring from his vibranium arm. His chest ached and his breathing was heavy as he fought to keep the Winter Soldier at bay.

His voice was low and dangerous as he growled out "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now, Natalia."

Nat stuttered "But James muy lobuv, we can be together now. For real, in the open. I had to get her out of the way, she was dangerous. A silly child who could get us all killed. Please. Ple-"

Bucky grabbed her by the throat with his vibranium hand squeezing until she couldn't speak, could barely breathe. "Yeah, that wasn't it. You know, Steve told me we should let you live, have you sent to the raft but he is just as much of a snake as you are so I know he would try to find a way to get you out. Hell even Tony said I shouldn't kill you and maybe he's right but I don't know if I can live with the knowledge that you were out there somewhere, plotting against us. Against her. Maybe if we take you into custody you'll be tried and executed anyhow or locked up somewhere you can't escape but I just" he sighed "I just don't think I can live with that. Good bye, Natalia."

He quickly snapped her neck and let her body drop to the floor without a second thought, quickly following Visions path to the quinjet.

Clint looked at the remains of his old friend sadly before wiping a tear away and hurrying to the jet, softly apologizing to Yelena on his way past her.

Once the team was all in the jet on their way home, Bruce advised them of all Rainbows injuries before he contacted Helen Cho so she could prepare for their arrival.

Bucky sat by Rainbow on the med bed for the flight home, holding her hand and speaking words of love and encouragement softly as his tears fell onto her. She died twice in the air but Bruce was able to revive her. She was barely hanging on as they landed and Helen took over, barking out orders as they rushed to the med bay.

Bucky said a prayer to any gods, to anyone that would listen, that his Rainbow would be alright.

Chapter 11

@vicmc624

[steviesbicrisis]

It starts out as any other Sunday morning. Eddie takes his time to come out of his room and finds his uncle already in the kitchen, the usual cup of coffee in his hand.

“‘Morning son” Wayne greets him, looking up from the newspaper.

“‘Morning” mumbles Eddie, still half asleep.

Per usual, Wayne tells him about stuff that happened to him during the week, since he works night shifts and they don’t get much time to talk except on Sundays.

“Oh, you won’t believe what I witnessed on Thursday night” Wayne begins, catching Eddie’s interest “we were grabbing something for dinner when I caught this piece of shit launching himself on another man! A disgusting scene to witness, I was so mad. Just like that, out in the open, in that alley next to the diner, you know that one?”

Everything Wayne says after that, Eddie barely registers.

The sound of his voice is muffled, Eddie can feel his jaw clenching, his knees weak, his vision blur. He keeps himself busy making his breakfast, trying not to show his inner turmoil, but something betrays him. He doesn’t know if it’s him putting salt in his coffee or pouring water on his cereals instead of milk.

“Son, are you okay?” Wayne sounds concerned.

Eddie snaps out of his trance, he really tries to act normal but he can’t, he’s so tired of hiding in his own home.

He knows that diner alley too well, he has been there one too many times, risking getting caught doing exactly what Wayne got disgusted about.

“I’m fine” Eddie forces himself to say but, for better or for worse, his uncle knows him way too well.

“What’s going on? Is it something I said?” Wayne gets up from his chair and moves a step closer to him, Eddie flinches.

They've never experienced a situation like this, whenever one of them has a problem with the other, they just say it out loud, bicker for a while, and then go on with their life. Eddie has never had troubles telling his uncle anything, until now.

"What I've said about those men, upset you?" Wayne tries again, and Eddie cannot keep looking at his uncle and lie.

"You said it was a disgusting scene to witness. You're saying that people like me are a disgusting scene to witness."

They look at each other in silence for probably a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime from Eddie's perspective.

Then Wayne rushes to his side and envelopes him in a tight embrace.

"Son, that isn't what I meant- I don't care what you are, what I said about that man has nothing to do with you" Wayne has trouble expressing whatever is going inside his head.

Eddie has never told this to anyone before. He tries to interpret his words the best he can "but I am like that man, you can't just hate every queer that ever existed but me just because I'm your nephew."

Wayne grips his shoulders as if he was afraid Eddie would run away any second. Eddie realizes he is probably right: his gaze was scanning the room behind Wayne, searching for a way out, without fully realizing it.

He feels extremely stupid for coming out like this, without a backup plan, right after Wayne had shown him just how much he cannot stand gay people. He knows Wayne loves him like a son, but being fucked up like Eddie has to be too much even for him.

Wayne takes a deep breath, finally recollecting his thoughts. He moves his hands on Eddie's cheeks "Eddie, I want you to look at me. Look at me in the eyes, son."

Eddie focuses his gaze on his uncle's face. His hands are shaking, his posture stiff. He decides in that moment that whatever happens he will take the hit, fight back and run away.

"I love you Eddie, you are my son. I don't give a shit about who you wanna sleep with as long as you're cautious and you're safe. I don't have prejudice for anything, people can love whoever they wanna love, I don't fucking care. Are we understood?"

Eddie releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He really focuses on Wayne's expression, looking for any indication of him lying but he finds none. He seems concerned, determined and also sad at the same time.

"This changes nothing, I love you just the same."

It could have been because his uncle never told him he loved him so openly until now, because he was scared shitless and an adrenaline rush was running through his body, or because as soon as he figured out he was gay he had always feared the moment Wayne would find out.

It could have been all of those things at the same time that make his eyes watery. He looks away and rubs his arm on his eyes, Wayne lets him without a fuss. He knows Eddie won't run away now.

"But what about those men you were telling me about?" he asks, once he feels calm enough.

"The piece of shit was harassing the other man, it was clear from a mile away, I was pissed he thought he could do it out in the open and that no one would've stopped him" Wayne grumbles.

"Most people wouldn't have stopped him" Eddie says, still stunned.

"Well not your old man... wait, has that ever happened to you?" he questions, Eddie goes red in the face.

"Of course not! I can defend myself!" Eddie sputters, making his uncle chuckle.

Another silence spreads between them, but a much comfortable one.

"Listen, this ain't gonna be a piece of cake. I don't care, I told you, but there's people out there who do. So, when you're out, be careful but when you're here... this is your home Eddie, you have to feel free in here."

Eddie mentally curses him for turning what he thought was a dangerous situation into a sentimental one in a span of ten minutes, making him go to the verge of tears once again.

"Are we understood?" Wayne asks once again.

"We are" Eddie nods, and that's the end of it.

When the time comes and Eddie brings someone home, a boyfriend, to spend the night there and live comfortably around each other without any fear, Wayne knows he has done his job right.

----

So... I came out to my parents today. It wasn't planned, I was scared, but it went the best way I could've imagined. They're both an uncle Wayne, if that makes any sense ahahha But yeah, this inspired me to write Eddie's coming out. Wayne really doesn't care about queer people, he just wants Eddie to be okay, as any parent should.

[pure-garbage]

Careful What You Wish For! The Student Becomes The Master

"Well, Lana sweetest? How was the meal?" Sanji prompted enthusiastically. The straw hats' voracious appetites had all been sated and the clean-up was over. All the cook could think about was collecting the reward he'd been promised.

"As good as ever, Sanji," Lana praised him. "I don't know where Luffy found you, but I certainly can't complain about five star food for every meal. So, you ready for that back rub?"

Sanji took a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he prepared himself.

"Lana sweetest, believe me... I was born ready."

"Come on, then. Make yourself comfortable," she gestured to the couch. "Feel free to lose the shirt."

Sanji gulped, doing so hastily and settling down on his stomach. His heart pounded as he let his eyes slide shut.

'I may die today... if my heart doesn't leap right out of my chest with glee, Marimo will surely cut me down... but heaven is worth dying for. As long as death waits to take me until after I've felt Lana's sweet touch on my body, I'll go happily into the next world.'

Weight and warmth overcame Sanji, sliding over his hips. He was already breathing hard, anticipation nearly bringing him to sweat.

"Ready?" Lana asked. Sanji frowned a little. Her voice was off to... his side?

"Oh yeah."

Zoro's voice. Sanji's eyes grew wide with alarm as he realized it was coming from behind and above. The loud cracking of knuckles came next.

"Um... Lana? Sweetest?"

She pulled up a chair and settled down, filing her nails delicately and flashing Sanji a sly smile.

"Just relax, Sanji," she implored him. "My pupil's going to take good care of you."

Sanji started trembling. He twisted his neck to meet Zoro's gleefully deranged gaze. The swordsman's grin was crazed, spiteful light glinting in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, cook. Relax."

'This... this can't be happening!'

"Face down... wouldn't want you to strain something," Zoro instructed smugly. He pushed Sanji's head down as he spoke.

"Hey, I didn't sign up for- Ah!"

Zoro set in without warning or mercy, drawing cracks, pops and startled cries from Sanji. The cook spasmed under his rough ministrations, cigarette falling from his open mouth as he gasped and panted.

"Check the pressure," Lana reminded Zoro without taking her eyes off her nails.

"Oh, yeah. Whaddya say, curly brows? Harder? Softer?" Zoro teased viciously.

"I- I... ugh!"

"Sounds like you're doing good," Lana smiled, shooting a wink at Zoro as he continued.

The strong, calloused hands of his crewmate weren't what Sanji wanted, but he was forced to admit to himself that the massage did feel pretty damn good. That fact only made him feel worse about the whole humiliating situation.

"Well, well, so tense, cook... I thought I told you... to relax!"

"Gaaaaahh!"

Luffy made an appearance while stars danced across Sanji's vision.

"Hey you guys," he greeted them. "Zoro, what're you torturing Sanji for?"

"Not torture, Lana corrected him. I taught Zoro my legendary back rub technique."

"Legendary, huh?"

Sanji seized his opportunity, vying for escape as Zoro's thumbs sank unacceptably low on his back.

"L-Luffy! Hey! You're still hungry, right? That's why you're here! You must need me to make you a snack! Ah! Hey, moss-for-brains, that's too-"

"Too hard? Got it. I'll be gentle with you, don't worry," Zoro snickered.

Sanji was actually going to tell him his hands were way to close to his ass, but a series of soft pops silence him except for the breathless cries of relief he was helpless against.

"Actually, I'm full, but thanks for checking!" Luffy grinned.

Sanji's jaw dropped.

'What the hell his this, armageddon? What sick joke is the universe playing on me today?!'

"Liar, you're always hungry!" Sanji fumed. "Oh... ugh! Ah, s-stupid swordsman!"

"What's that, buddy? Harder? I gotcha."

"Uhhhhhnnn!"

Sanji's eyes rolled back in their sockets as Zoro dug his elbow into the muscle under his shoulder blade, circling slow and firm.

"Don't forget to breathe," Zoro chuckled.

"Uh... huh, ugh, ohhh!"

"Wow, does it really feel that good, Sanji?" Luffy asked, crouching to put himself on eye level with his quivering cook.

"I- I don't- can't- this wasn't- ugh! Ah! Aahhhh!"

"Its the most relaxing, invigorating thing that'll ever happen to your body," Lana assured Luffy.

"Sounds fun! I wanna go next!"

"Next? Lana can get you right now. Right, Lana?" Zoro checked, features brimming with mischief.

"Sure can. Luffy, wanna use the bed since the couch is taken?"

"N- Gaaaaahhh!" Sanji cried out indignantly at the miscarriage of justice he was watching unfold.

"Sure!" Luffy agreed.

"Take good care of the captain, Lana," Zoro called after them, grinning demonically. He was unbearably pleased with himself. "I'll make sure our dear cook gets everything. He. Deserves."

Zoro punctuated his words with firm presses that smushed the air out of Sanji and cracked large sections of vertebrae.

"Aah! Aah! Oh god! W-w-why?!" Sanji all but sobbed. "What did I do wrong for the gods to punish me like this?! Please, I repent! I want out of this hell! Uhhhh!"

"There's no god that can help you now, curly brows," Zoro cackled, bearing down over him with intense, smothering malicious presence. His fingers dug deep into the prone cook's shoulders as he savored the sounds he was forcing from his mortified shipmate. "Now... just lay there and take it like a good boy!"

"You bastard! You think this is funny?! Aah!"

"This is hilarious!"

_______________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

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== First Chapter ==

[dustofthedailylife]

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

Chapter 5 - Conclusions

→ All Chapters || → Next Chapter (soon) → Main Masterlist || → Taglist

Summary: You’re a Fatui Agent, tasked with assassinating the one man who three years ago had almost succeeded to shatter the entire organization out of sheer hatred and thirst for vengeance. The best way to get close to someone? You make them fall in love with you - only that you didn’t plan on catching feelings yourself.

Pairing: Diluc x Fatui! Reader (gn)

Chapter Tags: Swearing, mentions of assassinations

A/N: I'm sorry for the cliffhanger I left you all with last chapter oopsie!

Care to explain what a Fatui dagger was doing under your mattress?

The sentence reverberated over and over in your mind, while your brain simultaneously failed to grasp the true meaning of it. You felt numb. Panicked. Hopeless.

What were you supposed to do now? There was no way you could weasel your way out of this mess. You had been found out and now you had to suffer the consequences.

"I've had my suspicions the entire time. That something was… off." He remarks, directing his gaze at the dagger and then at you once more.

"The way you didn’t want me to come with you to your inn room earlier, the run-in with the Fatui at the Tavern not too long ago, now this dagger bearing their emblem…"

Your heart thumped against your ribcage so loudly that you feared everyone in the room was able to hear it. Suddenly you also had trouble breathing as your chest felt constricted. 

All you managed to do were helpless yelps for air. You felt how your knees started to shake until they ultimately failed you and gave in. 

You were tunnel-visioned to the point you were unable to take in anything around you, except for the dagger that was lying exposed on the table. Sticking out like a sore thumb.

This is where it would all end.

This is where you would die.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die. 

You kept repeating the sentence like a mantra in your head. You had tried to make peace with the possibility of dying during this mission already when you received it. And you thought you did. Yet the quickly contracting muscle in your chest told a different story.

You should never have agreed to this mission. You knew you weren’t cut out for it.

Adrenaline shot through your system, igniting every nerve in your body and it felt like everything was crashing down on you. The card house you had so carefully stacked up over the past couple of weeks was destroyed by nothing but a slightly shaky move of your hand. 

By nothing but a minor negligence on your end.

Your synapses fired at high speed and the sensory overload caused you to fail to realize that you had started crying as well. Kneeling on the floor with a tear-blurred vision you transfixed your gaze on a single spot of the carpet below you, attempting to brace yourself for whatever it was that was about to come now. 

"Adelinde, leave us, please," Diluc commanded in a stern but somehow still polite tone to which she promptly complied and left the room with haste.

Diluc strode towards you. What in reality were swift and heavy steps, felt like slow-motion to you. As if you saw your life pass right in front of your eyes. Was it too early to say goodbye yet?

But goodbye to what exactly? If you looked at it objectively, you never had anything. No family, no friends, no true home. All you had were the Fatui back in the snow-covered loveless land of Snezhnaya. And if you were gone, who would even miss you?

You were nothing but a chess piece. A disposable pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Sure the Fatui had promised you the seat of a Harbinger should you succeed, but they knew as well as you did that if you failed this mission you would wind up dead. The inevitable outcome.

Subconsciously you had always tried to make peace with the possibility. But now that the situation you always wanted to avoid came into being, you started questioning everything you had ever known.

Ever since you arrived in Mondstadt, you tried to keep everyone at arm’s length. Tried to convince yourself you hated everything. This city. The people. All of it. 

But the truth was, that the hospitality and kindness of the people is something you had never received in your life before.

You were only telling yourself this because you didn’t want to get attached.

But you did. You got attached to all these people, to this land - to your life. And maybe that’s also why you were trying to prolong this mission as long as you could up until now. Because you finally realized it didn’t only have to be cold and bleak like the snowy landscapes back in Snezhnaya. There was more to it.

Why were you thinking about this now? You had no idea. It no longer mattered anyway.

Because the moment you felt how Diluc grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back to your feet your mind went blank.

“I have just received notice that the Northland Bank was able to retrieve the payments for the exported goods successfully.” an overly friendly voice echoed through the cold stone walls of the Snezhnayan church.

Pantalone, the Ninth and wealthiest of the Fatui Harbingers was in charge of all of Snezhnaya’s financial and economic affairs. He was currently stationed in Liyue at the Northland Bank where he took care of all commerce and economy of the Fatui. And while he always wore a smile on his lips and even though his voice always carried a friendly tone, he possessed an aura that radiated deceitfulness. Everyone who knew him made sure to not get on his bad side because there never was a way of knowing what he was plotting.

The man he spoke to knelt on the stairs in front of the altar upon which a statue of the Tsaritsa stood amidst at least a dozen candles and a pile of gifts. He slowly got up and turned around.

“That is good news.” Pierro nodded as he turned around to face Pantalone. "But that's not the only thing you came here for today. This news could've been sent through a courier."

"Perceptive as always." The black-haired man remarked in his ever so overtly friendly tone while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle and index finger.

"I am indeed here today for something else."

"And what would that be?"

"Hmm." Pantalone hummed, his smile never faltering. "I've got word about a lower-rank agent you've sent to Mondstadt about the matters of dealing with the Ragnvindr boy. I was curious what might've elicited this decision?"

"Are you perhaps doubting me?" Pierro replied with a warning undertone in his voice. The Ninth's facial expression didn't waver for a second though. The conniving grin stayed the same as if it was carefully carved in marble for all eternity.

"Why, of course not. I would never doubt your judgment. Though, I must say I'm surprised you offered them a position as a Harbinger should they succeed."

The silvered-haired man intensely glared back at his subordinate Harbinger. The brief silence that followed Pantalone's words caused the atmosphere in the room to become so thick one would be able to cut it.

“You don’t really believe they can do it either, do you?” The black-haired man inquired with a calculating tone in his voice after a brief moment of silence.

“Do I, Pantalone?” Pierro assessed. 

Pierro slowly walked down the stairs of the altar, looking around the church before transfixing his gaze on the Ninth, folding his hands behind his back. His lips curved into an evil smile before he huffed in amusement.

A waft of cold air suddenly blew their way and the grating of the big wooden door of the church echoed through the stone hall. A Fatui agent returning from Mondstadt bowed his head upon spotting the two men before he strode down the aisle with long and heavy strides.

"Good day, Lord Harbingers," he bowed his head once more.

"Agent. You're right on time. I assume you bear news from Mondstadt?" Pierro inquired with an authoritative voice.

"Yes, my Lord. Our informant stationed in Mondstadt contacted them and we found out that they stayed the night at the Dawn Winery."

"Peculiar," Pierro uttered, donning a half-smile upon seeing Pantalone's eyes widen in shock. Pierro knew what he must be thinking now. Pantalone was assuming this meant Diluc Ragnvindr was dead and they’d have to promote some low-rank no-name agent to a Harbinger seat.  

"And let me guess. The Ragnvindr spawn is still breathing?" Pierro inquired as one corner of his mouth smugly curled upwards.

"Yes, I fear he is, my Lord." The agent replied with a voice that oozed nervousness.

"As expected."

"Oh and another thing, sir…" The agent cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the ground in awe. "We've been informed that they have been injured. It is to be considered that they might have been found out. My apologies, my Lord."

"Thank you, agent. You may leave now."

The agent quickly bowed once more before almost sprinting out of the church, visibly relieved by the fact that Pierro didn’t seem to be angered.

As soon as the door fell into the lock again behind him Pierro slowly strode a few steps down the aisle before turning around with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I hope that makes my intentions clearer now?" he poses the question at Pantalone who seemed to get the bigger picture now.

“So, you never believed they were able to pull this mission off.” Pantalone stated matter-of-factly.

“Of course, I didn’t. We’re talking about Diluc Ragnvindr. He killed dozens of agents, lower and higher ranks alike, on his own without his vision. This was a suicide mission from the start. Do you really think I would just offer some obscure lapdog the position of a Harbinger like that?”

“Of course not, sir.” the black-haired man replied without hesitation. “I was just trying to make sure.”

“I sent them to gather more intel about the current situation with the Mondstadt spawn and possibly open a window for someone more capable to finally strike him down.”

Pantalone nodded in understanding and folded his hands behind his back, slowly walking a few steps forward to stand right next to Pierro.

“On the very off-chance, they actually succeed; What do you plan to do with them?”

Pierro took his coat that hung over one of the benches and draped it around his shoulders. Signaling that he didn’t have much to say about the matter. 

Before making his way to the exit of the church he turned his head and sinisterly looked over his shoulder at Pantalone.

“Then we shall dispose of them our way.”

The next thing you knew was being shoved onto a chair with tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Your whole body was trembling in fear and your head felt like it was swimming. Everything was too much and you felt numb at the same time.

Diluc pulled one of the other chairs in front of you before sitting down on it and leaning forward, staring daggers at you.

You didn't dare to look at his face but you could feel his gaze burning holes in your scalp. He must've seen through everything by now and only wanted to interrogate you now to satisfy his curiosity before ultimately finishing you off.

"I'm sorry. I'm– I'm sorry." You whimpered without even knowing what you were actually apologizing for. For trying to kill him? For deceiving everyone? For being a Fatui? Or were you just sorry you were caught? You no longer knew. 

Pathetic.

A disgrace to the organization you belonged to. A sorry excuse for an agent.

"I always suspected that something was off," Diluc remarked in a sinister tone. "There were a lot of things that just didn't align."

This was the part where he would spell your entire plan out to you with a victorious smirk before finishing you off. That's how this always went in the books, right?

Killing your enemy and serving their head on a silver platter to set a sign.

"The way you never wanted anyone to walk into your room. The way you were so hesitant to share anything personal, or that you told me this wasn’t the first time you’ve been wounded. You're also not actually from Inazuma, are you?"

At the latter, you perked your head up in surprise. How did he find that out?

Oh, right. He knew you belonged with the Fatui now.

He just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I knew it."

The way you didn't even have to verbally answer his questions was baffling. He had you figured out entirely.

"You're an orphan from Snezhnaya, aren't you?"

Now this had you baffled.

"How–" Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to coax words out of your hoarse throat.

"Well," he began, standing up from his chair once more. "You talk in your sleep."

He slipped the gloves off his hands and put them aside on the side table. Was it so they wouldn’t get stained with your blood for whatever he was trying to do with you now? You looked at him in fear, just waiting for what was to come.

“Additionally, you seemed out of it on the morning I first met you, as if you hadn’t slept all night. And when Charles asked you if you were from the ‘Land of Eternity’ you just looked confused. As if you didn’t know that it was an alternative name for Inazuma. No actual Inazuman would be confused about that name.” He explains rationally with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He had analyzed you out of the shadows from the minute he first laid eyes on you. He outplayed you completely effortlessly without you even taking note of it.

Not only was he incredibly skilled in combat, but he also had the brain to go with it.

It was not a surprise that the Fatui hadn’t been able to kill him yet.

Diluc walked back over to you again, approaching slowly as tears still kept streaming down your face. 

You guessed that was it now. He had said his part.

Yet when he reached out his hands towards your face you instinctively covered it with your arms and screamed at the top of your lungs. 

"No! No, don't kill me?!"

You were prepared to use your remaining strength to fight him off even if you knew you would never stand a chance.

But at this moment you realized something crucial. Something that slipped your panic-riddled brain from the very beginning.

Your hands.

They were free.

When he pushed you down on the chair he didn't actually tie you to it. He did nothing to restrain you or keep you in place. He didn't lock the door either. You could've run out the door without an issue in the world at any given time.

There even was a box of tissues on the table next to you that you had been too tunnel-visioned to notice. He had put them there before pushing you down on the chair.

Looking up at Diluc's face for the first time since getting back here showed you an expression you didn't expect to see.

Worry. Distress. Instead of the flaming anger you expected to see in his crimson eyes, all you saw was a deep frown and genuine concern instead.

Visibly disturbed by what you just screamed, he sat back down on the chair in front of you. He hesitantly grabbed one of your hands with his and gently squeezed it.

There was no malice in the gesture whatsoever, nor was there any tension in the room either.

He threw you a sympathetic half-smile and wiped away one of your tears with the bud of his thumb.

Stunned by the contradiction of what you had expected would happen, you simply sat there completely petrified. Too confused to move a muscle you kept staring at Diluc who was still caressing you gently.

"What makes you say that?" He finally inquires with his brows still furrowed.

"W-what?" 

"Why would I kill you?"

Was he for real right now? 

Maybe this was some sort of brainwashing technique you hadn't heard of before and you were walking right into his trap yet again. You couldn't be too careless now. One wrong move and you would never leave this house alive again.

Yet despite knowing that, you had no idea what to reply.

You thought that he thought, you were an assassin the Fatui sent for him. Technically, you were. But obviously, you couldn't say that.

Noticing your confusion he picked up the dagger that was still lying on the table next to you.

Is this the part where he would finish you with your own weapon?

"Who gave you this?"

Answering this one honestly was probably the best idea. The emblem was on it and he wouldn't believe just any makeshift lie anyway. Not that it would matter now that he knew, or rather, figured out everything on his own anyway.

"The Fatui"

Now it was out. 

The look on Diluc’s face, as he picked the dagger up and twisted it between his fingers, was hard to decipher. You would say he looked pensive and still worried?

Could it possibly be that he legitimately was worried? There was no way.

"Are they threatening you?"

"What?" You utter in disbelief. So this wasn’t a scheme to get you to admit anything nor did he suspect you were actually a part of the Fatui. Was he stupid?

He saw through you right from the start and that was the conclusion he drew from all this? Maybe he wasn’t as bright as your intel on him stated after all.

And for the first time since returning back to the Winery from Mondstadt you no longer felt hopeless. Maybe you had a chance to get out of this alive after all.

You started to finally feel an ounce of hope bloom in your chest again. Forget everything you thought about earlier, this wasn’t the time to throw the towel yet. You could exploit his trust now.

"Are they threatening you?" He repeated, putting the dagger back down on the table and taking your hands into his once more.

What should you reply? If you would reply with yes then that would be a lie and it could possibly also result in the death of some fellow agents. On the other hand, if you said no it would make you look suspicious. Because why would you be in possession of this dagger then?

Diluc immediately noticed that you hesitated as well which you could tell by the way he squeezed your hand a little tighter again.

You scanned his face while your thoughts raced at light speed once more. You somehow got out of being suspected yourself only to run into the next issue immediately after.

Thinking about it, you would probably have to be egoistic here and go with saying yes. Even if it would end up costing the lives of some agents, the mission and your own life took priority to you. And the low ranks were replaceable.

But the Fatui could possibly see you as a traitor as well if they found out. They seemed to be on edge already because of the fact you stayed the Night at the Winery and Diluc was still alive. 

But either way, the end result would be the same. Either you would die right here by actually being exposed for being an assassin or you would die because the Fatui would somehow find out and think you betrayed them.

And that’s what you went with - the option to prolong your life a little longer for now. So you looked up at Diluc’s eyes with damp, swollen eyes and hesitantly nodded.

He nodded in acknowledgment and pressed his lips into a thin line while still holding your hands. Leaning to the side he grabbed one of the tissues from the box on the table and gently wiped over your eyes with them. 

Both of you sat there like this in silence, apart from some hiccuped sobs that were still escaping your sore throat from crying so much. It appeared like he had no further questions for you. At least for now.

“You’re safe here.” He reassured. “And you may reside here for as long as you wish. In fact, I think I’d feel better if you could stay here.”

Why was he suddenly so committed to this?

You could’ve probably thought of the answer yourself. It was logical. He hated the Fatui and with them supposedly being on your heels, you both shared the same enemy. 

However, moving in would probably be taking things too far. Where would you continue to do your research, the maids could walk into your room at any time and find some compromising things again. Just like today.

Just as you opened your mouth and were about to decline his offer, he lifted one of his fingers to silence you again.

“Before you say anything to decline again. There is an empty house from one of my former employees on the property. You’re free to clean it up and stay there for as long as you like.”

“But I wouldn’t want to endanger you or–”

“Please trust me. I can keep you safe.”

You just couldn’t stay somewhere where someone would be able to walk in without any warning, so maybe you could make staying in a separate house work. It had the benefit of staying close to Diluc at all times while also monitoring his routines and whereabouts, which in turn increased the chances of successfully accomplishing what you came here for.

“Okay.” You ultimately caved. This could work.

Diluc let out, what sounded like, a small sigh of relief, and the corner of his lips crinkled upwards ever so slightly. 

You still wondered why he was so insistent on letting you stay here in all honesty, but so be it. You weren’t one to complain about hospitality at the end of the day. Maybe he also still felt guilty about the wound he had inflicted the night prior, so that was why he was acting this way

“Great.” He uttered with a faint smile still painted on his lips. “I also want to apologize for scaring you. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was only fair, you don’t know me that well.” You retorted.

“That’s something that can be changed.” He said while looking down at his hands and playing around with his thumbs, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze. Did this mean what you think it meant?

He cleared his throat and got up from the chair with a prominent blush painted across his cheeks.

“Anyway. Dinner?”

Wiping over your eyes once more to get rid of the remaining tears still sticking in the corners, you got up as well with a smile and took hold of one of his hands, which only seemed to deepen his blush.

“Dinner.”

Maybe, things had turned out in your favor once again.

If you want to be added to the fic-specific tag list send me an ask!

Do not repost, copy, translate, or edit - © dustofthedailylife Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks for the tag, @tabswrites (here)! I'll go with my WIP Of Starlight and Beasts for this one (:

My words were: one, hand, fire and bruise

Your words are: lovely, sheer, tiresome, manic

One

"You're one of us now, kid" Scarlet smiled, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. Nimwen smiled at him. "So, for better or for worse, we always look out for one another. And if the King himself has something to say about that, then he'd have to get his fancy butt off that throne and come find us first."

Hand (sneak peak into one of the final chapters eeee)

"I made a mistake, trusting you all those years ago. We both know that. I will not deny that I was foolish. You've got your oath, and I've got my own - that was always a fact we were both too blind to see" Lysander took a step forward, his hand resting firmly around the hilt of his blade. The priestess glared at him silently, eyes as sharp as the wind which roared through the statues of the Wall. "But if you think I'm going to just stand aside and let you hurt my daughter, after all that your absence already caused, then you're the only one who is being naive, Elsbeth."

Fire

A swirling spiral of fire hit the ground around them, like a giant faucet of fire had opened from the skies and onto the Crimson Queen's inqusitors. The ground shook, and Corah struggled for balance before looking up, glittering gold scales filling her vision before meeting her draconic friend's fierce eyes, as Tomasa landed behind them.

Bruise

She pushed the long strand of hair away from his face, fingers gingerly ghosting over a blooming dark bruise on his cheekbone. Her eyes narrowed. "Where did you get this?"

Eidan smiled, though it wasn't quite convincing as he thought. "It's nothing, Maryon. I'm fine."

She shook her head and groaned. "I can still see, genius. This is not nothing, unless you somehow expect me to believe you suddenly started running into walls as a hobby, which I highly doubt. So, let me rephrase that question: who did this?"

Maryon could see in his eyes that he was trying to come up with some other ridiculous excuse, and could plainly see the moment he realized it would be useless. Eidan sighed. "... Just some asshole from the Council - he wasn't as keen to believe the word of the 'Traitor's nephew' as the others were. Except instead of making a coherent point he just talked with his fist. And apparently couldn't even do that right, 'cause that was one of the worst punches I ever got."

Tagging (gently) - @thepeculiarbird, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @little-peril-stories, @littleladymab, @clairelsonao3, @oh-no-another-idea, @conkers-thecosy, @crowandmoonwriting, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @mk-writes-stuff, @anyablackwood, @rickie-the-storyteller @lassiesandiego,@steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @trancetales, @doublegoblin, @gummybugg, @forthesanityofstorytellers and OPEN TAG

[zombolouge]

BRACE YOURSELF ITS QUESTION TIME

What’s your current writing project(s)? How do you feel about it, how far along are you? Anything else you want to share about it?

I LOVE YOU JELLY you sent me so many kickass asks that I can't wait to answer. I shall do one every other day so I don't spam my followers and also so I can mull over all the answers in a ponderous, serious manner. ;)

Currently still poking the rapidly expanding middle of Fanatical, my sequel to Indefensible in my Ace Attorney series. Indefensible picks up about a couple months after AA6: Spirit of Justice and follows through an original plotline in the AA universe. I wrote my own cases for it and tried very much to make reading them feel just like it would if you were playing a new game, except I showed all the emotional bits in between the investigation/trial scenes. I also gave full arcs to like...all the fucking characters so this bitch was long lolol but I am exceedingly proud of it and will show it to anyone who even remotely expresses an interest in AA with big, pleading eyes, hoping that they'll read it.

Fanatical takes place about 7-ish months after the epilogue of Indefensible, picking up with a certain auspicious wedding and then immediately plunging all our favorite lawyers into further mysteries. I found while writing Indefensible that I absolutely love writing mystery, even though it also makes me insane, and there were (unbelievably) a few things I didn't get to cover in the first 500k words I wrote. So as I approached the ending of Indefensible, I started thinking about if I had enough to build into another fic, realized I did, and got to work on that. It currently has about 90k of it posted, another 50k written (out of order, which is why I can't post any of it yet lol).

It's been vexing me for a few months because there were some details of the plot my brain hadn't fully visualized yet. I'm getting much, MUCH closer to having a clear vision of it, though. I've finally got the plot beats mapped out, and I can finally see which characters in particular needed a little more attention to their arcs. It's pretty hard to write mystery, even harder to write it when I have at least 21 individual characters to map out an arc for, and something so complex definitely takes time to fully consider. I feel bad that it's been so slow going and that I had to take a break from it, but I haven't put it on full hiatus yet since it's still the project I'm focused on.

So far the theme is clear to me, though, and the biggest plot beats are firm, it's just a few of the subplots that need some TLC. Not every character has to be active for every part of the plot, but I do need to know where their head is at and what they're doing, and how that will intersect with the parts they are actively participating in.

I'm hoping that I can get it on the page before the new Dragon Age game comes out, because that WILL force Fanatical into hiatus because I'll immediately be working on DA stuff. If I don't have most/all of Fanatical done by end of September, it's hiatus will probably be another long one, and I'm very stressed about that. Hoping those that have read it will forgive me, since they already had to weather a years' long hiatus on Indefensible. Did my best to make it worth the wait, tho. ;)

Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble about these things, I LOVE talking about my work and processes and thoughts about characters and stuff, so I always welcome asks. <3

[666writingcafe]

The Walk

"Do you remember the first time you ever came here, MC?" Solomon asks. I forgot how far away the House was from RAD, so I'm glad to not have to walk there alone.

"Solomon, it hasn't been that long ago. Only a couple of years."

"What was it like for you?" There's a look in Solomon's eyes that I can't quite comprehend.

"It was...interesting, to say the least."

"How so?"

"I did have a good time overall, but not all of my memories of the exchange program are happy ones."

"I completely understand."

"Do you?" He nods his head.

"I've visited the Devildom many times before the exchange program was even a thought in anyone's head. My highest highs and lowest lows have happened here."

"Were you ever possessed by anyone?"

"Surprisingly, no. I behaved in ways that should have gotten some demon to do that to me, but no one ever did."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Solomon chuckles.

"I imagine it wasn't easy having Belphegor in your head, was it?"

"I nearly died. We both did, actually."

"How?" I stop walking in order to fully face Solomon.

"What?" he asks.

"You're telling me that no one told you what happened?"

"No...should I have been informed?"

"I mean, not necessarily. I just thought that the news would have made its way to you."

"Well, if you feel comfortable telling me, I'd be more than willing to listen." We resume walking towards the House.

"Satan and Lucifer knew about the possession. Belphie had revealed himself to them by using me as a mouthpiece and making my eyes change color. Satan apparently got so concerned about the whole thing that he enlisted the help of the remaining brothers to distract Lucifer long enough for me to release Belphie from the attic." I pause. "Do you remember Satan and Lucifer swapping bodies?"

"I do. I still find it amusing." Of course you do.

"Even though it affected me as well?"

"Well, no. That was rather serious. You ended up with three Avatars inside your head."

"And I'm sure you know the long-term effects of that."

"Yes. Once a demon possesses a human, that door remains open for the rest of the human's life."

"Right. So, Lucifer and I end up alone in the library. Belphie walks in with glowing eyes, Lucifer yells at him, and suddenly I wasn't in the room anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This might sound crazy, but I think I ended up inside Lucifer's head."

"That's not crazy at all. Even though it hasn't happened very often, there are documented cases where a human is able to enter a demon's mind, and in all instances, the demon has possessed the human first." I sigh in relief.

"Good. At least I haven't lost all of my mind." Solomon chuckles. "Anyway, I saw a vision of Diavolo punishing the brothers in horrific ways, and that's really the last thing I remember coherently." I stop walking briefly to show Solomon the scar on my arm.

"Is that where that came from?" he asks. I nod my head.

"According to the twins, I did that to myself first. Then, I threatened Belphie and went after him."

"Except it wasn't you per say, but rather Lucifer acting through you."

"Exactly. Once everyone realized that, they did everything in their power to hold me back, but I did manage to cut Belphie as well." I pause. "And that's the story of how Belphie and I nearly died." Right when I finish talking, we arrive at the gates of the House of Lamentation.

"Here we are," Solomon states. "If you don't need anything else, I was going to head over to Purgatory Hall and have a look around." Suddenly, an idea pops in my head. I must look suspicious to the sorcerer, for he inquires about the look on my face.

"I was just thinking about how funny it would be if I played a prank on the brothers." Solomon's eyes narrow.

"What kind of prank?"

"A perfectly harmless one."

"Define 'harmless'."

"I'd like to take an item from each of their rooms and then hide long enough for them to start bickering amongst themselves." Solomon considers my idea for a moment.

"I've been involved in worse pranks. I'll help you."

[betweenthings2]

¹³⁾ frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise

I have a vision of a teenage gatty and a flustered Matty hunting through the fridge for something to shove against the face of an equally smug & well-scolded George who’s been relegated to a kitchen chair after someone at school/a bar got too mean/rowdy around his smaller, “I can fight my own battles”-“That was such an outdated, toxic display of masculinity, George”-“but God that was so hot” boyfriend.

Sorry I think I got carried away. You can ignore that completely and write your own thing as well I will not feel disrespected 😂.

First of all, your vision is amazing and I hope I've done it justice, second of all, don't apologize, and third of all, thank you so much for the ask!! The ask list is here if anyone else wants to see it =)

September Prompt 13- frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise

"Sit," Matty says, pointing towards the dining room table.

George does as he's told, mostly because he doesn't want to argue with Matty. No one wins arguments with Matty unless he wants you to and George is no exception to that just because they're together. In fact, that probably makes it harder for George to win. He can't say he really minds all that much.

George moves his jaw, wincing as the motion sends pain radiating out, the gingerly presses at is. His skin feels warm and a little bit swollen, and as he glances down, he realizes that his knuckles are red. It had all been over in about thirty seconds that felt like an hour to George, and he doesn't really think he threw that many punches, but he's also not in the habit of getting into fights.

From his spot at the dining table, George can see Matty rifling through the freezer, presumably looking for an ice pack. Matty had been indignant and scolded George the whole walk home, but his care now isn't surprising. Matty always cares about everything, maybe a little too much sometimes. George doesn't blame him for being indignant--they shouldn't have both been sent home for fighting. Matty would have left if only George was sent home, but that's beside the point. Neither of them even started it. All they did was sit there together like they always do. Maybe that's beside the point.

In the kitchen, Matty closes the freezer and wraps a towel around a bag of frozen peas, then comes to stand in front of George. He gently urges George's hand from his face, then guides him to turn his head so Matty can inspect the bruise forming on his jaw. He takes a sharp breath, then very gently presses the improvised icepack against the bruise.

"Sorry," Matty murmurs when George winces. "I know it hurts, but it'll help. Promise."

George nods as best he can without jostling the ice pack and reaches up to hold it himself.

"Other hand," Matty says. "Lemme see that."

Dutifully, George obeys, reaching with his nondominant hand to hold the icepack and lets Matty inspect his split knuckles.

"I'll be right back," Matty decides after a moment. "Don't move."

"I'll stay right here," George agrees. He watches Matty go, disappearing down the hallway, but doesn't move. He's a little bit smug, he won the fight after all, but Matty has scolded him enough that he also feels a little bit bad.

When Matty comes back, he has a damp washcloth and a first aid kid and he pulls a second chair over so he can sit in front of George. "Lemme see your hand again?" he asks.

George holds his hand out and watches Matty dab at his knuckles with the washcloth.

"That was stupid," Matty says.

"He was trying to push you around," George protests.

"I can take care of myself."

"He was harassing you," George tries again.

"So you had to get in a fight? Don't you think that's kind of an outdated display of masculinity and, like, saying you don't think I can fight my own battles?"

"I know you can take care of yourself," George says. "I just didn't like the way he was treating you. I'm not going to let someone get away with that. Plus, he was only doing it because you wouldn't have won."

Matty lets go of George's hand and straightens up, pouting, and says, "You're not that much bigger than me and I absolutely could have won."  

"All I'm saying is that he was goin' after you, not me," George amends.

Matty doesn't address George's comment and instead, takes the icepack from him, moving it to look a the bruise forming on George's jaw. He sets the icepack aside, the now-damp kitchen towel falling open to show the packaging, and runs very gentle fingers over the bruise. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

"A bit, but it's fine. I'm fine," George answers. Then he adds, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Matty murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. When they separate, he stays close to add, "Was kinda hot, seein' you get in a fight over me."

[sunny12th]

What are your favorite Dany ships?

I dont really ship Dany with anyone. She's a romantic character and she longs for a partner that will love her regardless of her past but I've always interpreted this as her wishing for a family as well. She equates marriage and romantic love with family bc she doesn't believe she can have children and all of her family has died. Her last chance at family is through marriage but "who could ever love a dragon." I think it'd be pretty beautiful for her to find a family (like her literal nephews) and have that found family love. She's never experienced pure familial love and, imo, Dany finding that would be much more poignant then finding romantic love. I'm always gonna choose a found family trope over anything else lol.

I like Dany and Daario, I think it's massively overhated and Daario is villainized by the fandom even though he's no more violent than any other male character. Of course I'd like Dany/Daario is they were closer in age but I like that Daario is clearly her mistress and is just a fun time. It's a very lust-fueled and youthful romance. It's not great but it's overhated and I like the version of it that exists in my head a lot. There's also some potential exploration of Dany's trauma here with how she compared Daario to Drogo in one of their first encounters. It's like she's trying to recreat her first traumatic sexual experiences except this time she is in control, she initiates the sex, she is the one with power. Can't ignore that all of this was started when Jorah molested her and she suddenly began to have sexual urges, like the molestation triggered her into seeking out what she experienced with Drogo again. I feel like grrm could've done more with their relationship in that regard but Dany actively avoids looking too closely at her wounds. At some point though, she's gonna have to get over that. If grrm had my vision then Dany would have pegged Daario the first time they fucked.

Dany/Tyrion is also a good ship imo but, again, I wish they were closer in age lol. That's just my personal preference but it is what it is. I'm happy with them being platonic as well esp considering they can be the loving siblings they never had. I love found family dynamics, I love healing from generational pain, I love the heartache and relief of realizing 'this is how family is supposed to love.'

I'm not into Jonerys or Dany/FAegon. I dont, like, hate those ships but I'm pretty ambivalent about them. *Could* be interesting but we'll see. grrm is a very good writer (when he wants to be) and all that so whatever he decides, it'll probable be good. For me, personally, Dany and Jon being a family and accepting each other as their family is way more interesting than some soulmate driven romance. Dany and Young Griff have so much potential as a platonic pairing to me too.

I dont really think about any other Dany ships that much honestly. Dany/[insert any woman character here] is obviously perfect. Seriously wish grrm would explore Dany's sexuality more but I doubt he will at this point.

Dany/Jhogo is the superior ship but there's very little to go on bc grrm refuses to give any of the bloodriders interiority or personality. It is the ship that had the most potential tho, if only grrm could try to care about the nonwhite characters that have been by Dany's side since day 1.

edit: wrote some more thoughts about different Dany ships here if you're interested

[vikingnerd793]

I feel like I blocked 2020 out of my head for multiple reasons. One obviously being the pandemic but also that I got sick with a never diagnosed, mysterious illness for 6 months and I spent 6 months having to work remotely while feeling like my body was shutting down in some way.

I remember the symptoms randomly, miraculously clearing and disappearing entirely in October of 2020, right before AC Valhalla dropped.

The symptoms, I now realize, were eerily similar to what I am experiencing now but now it is far more generalized.

I had a weak neck but just felt sore all the time, so I ended up sitting in recliners a lot. I had what felt like fatigueable weakness in my chest and my arms, especially my left. I had stomach acid coming up when I was sleeping and this feeling like food was not moving right through my esophagus, so I didn't want to eat and when I did, it was very little. I had weakness in my diaphragm that would rear its ugly head, especially when bending over. Looking back the symptoms were actually super minor, but we're incredibly alarming because I just felt so weak and tired all the time.

And then it just went away. I was traumatized from it but said it was maybe just anxiety.

And then 2024 happened. Tattoo appointment, which caused an immune response, and then a wisdom tooth infection 7 days later because my immune system was probably overwhelmed fighting two things at once. Then antibiotics for 7 days before a major surgery that removed four wisdom teeth and drained an abscess. Followed by an allergic reaction to two different new antibiotics. I was tired ALL THE TIME for two weeks and thought it was just the surgery. Then one day I woke up, I had severe weakness in my neck, legs, and blurred vision in my eyes. Every blood panel for the next month convinced doctors nothing was wrong, it was just anxiety (LOL) .... I thought it was maybe an infection that spread from the original or I maybe was having some kind of reaction to something, but tests showed nothing.

Except those symptoms stuck around and fluctuated in severity by the hour and by the day. Eventually the weakness spread to my arms, my chest and my diaphragm (again.....) and now the neck weakness I felt in 2020 felt like complete neck instability. And unfortunately, my throat got involved on top of my esophagus so swallowing is impacted as is my ability to speak. Then my PCP flagged that it may be neurological and only a few things can cause these symptoms...one in particular, the triggers I've had and the symptoms are lining up almost perfectly. Unfortunately.

At first I didn't connect the two periods of illness but I remember in 2020, even when symptoms resolved I couldn't project my voice for a solid 6 months. I couldn't sing in the car, my voice would tire out if I talked for too long. Eventually that faded into the apparent remission of late 2020-2024. And now, thanks to back to back to back immune responses and multiple exacerbating circumstances (medications, and believe it or not, menstrual periods), everything came roaring back magnified and the symptoms are my entire body pretty much.

I got three good years of symptom remission. But I wish they diagnosed whatever this is back in 2020 so 2024 could have been prevented. And yes, stress can cause the illness I am pretty sure this is and I was severely stressed in 2020.

There is really only one autoimmune disease this probably is going to end up being and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But at least it's an answer and I can start actually treating what has CLEARLY been dormant all this time.

Just sucks that I've spent 9 months out of the last four years traumatized, unsure what is wrong but knowing something us wrong and unable to do a thing about it. Because until they diagnose it, I'm basically beholden to however my body is feeling. And for the last 3 months or so, a good day means I can eat just enough to hold my weight loss to a pound a week, and I can hold my neck up when sitting up or walking around without coughing, and I can watch TV and look at screens without my vision blurring and my eyelids drooping.

This is a personal vent because I actually can't talk long enough to talk to a therapist at the moment or really anyone, so I have to write. And this is the safest place for me to write atm..

I just want to play video games and eat food without choking concerns and feel like a human again. Maybe go for walks idk

I am not naming what this may be yet because it may not be that. Maybe this IS just my immune system freaking out and it will just clear or just needs some immunosuppresants to get controlled. But hey, even if this IS what it sounds like, it's not fatal. It's just brutal, lifelong with some chance of remission and decent chance of minimal symptoms, and it means I likely have to live a very simple, slow moving and exercise minimized life. Which is NOT who I have ever been at all. But it may have to be.

[quinloki]

Some Direction

Fem Reader x Roronoa Zoro

CW: Language, stalking, violence, sexual themes and situations, ptsd 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 19: Lost v 2.0

***The following chapter is from Zoro's Point of View.***

"Zoro, I-." thump. "Huh?"

Both of us look around as a rain of Ping-Pong balls fall into the garden with a muffled series of thumps and a few splashes. Confusion strikes before we hear soft pops and there's an eruption of smoke that fills the whole garden. I pull (Y/N) to her feet as we both start coughing and start making our way back inside.

I barely get three steps from the bridge, and I can feel her sag and fall limp against me. I swear in frustration, but the smoke's blurring my vision despite my efforts to not breathe it in. I can't get us both clear of the smoke, but I won't leave her behind.

I can sense someone approaching, it's not my dad, so it's got to be him. The one harassing (Y/N) all this time, that bastard archer. I turn to attack him, to grab the mask off his face and expose him to the gas, but it's sunk into my body, and I can't put any strength behind my movements. He catches my wrist easily, and I sink to my knees. I need to move; I need to stop him. I can't let him hurt her and I can't let him hurt me – she'd never forgive herself.

There's a strange feeling as he forces a mask over my head, laying me down on the ground. I feel like I should recognize something about him, but even with the mask I've breathed in too much of the smoke. Vertigo steals the last my capacity and I sink into the ground, barely hanging onto consciousness, even though I can't will my body to move.

When I see him pick her up, I can feel my entire body panic. The surge of adrenaline is enough for me to stand, but even as I reach out toward him everything fades.

When I wake back up, I'm on the couch in the family room. My head's splitting, and my body aches. I recognize Dr. Marco and there's three sets of hands holding me down before I can even sit up.

"Roronoa," Mihawk says. His voice is sharp, sharp and pained at the same time.

"He took her." My voice cracks, I feel like I'm going to hurl, but I'm too mad.

"He did. Stay still." His tone is irritating, but if I sit up too fast I'll just black out again, and even if I could move freely, I'm outnumbered. Officer Smoker is at my ankles, Dr. Marco has my wrists, and my dad's hand is against my forehead. "You've been unconscious for a couple hours. The doctor has tended to you, and the police are here. You need to listen. Can you?"

I nod.

"We had a lead in the case," Smoker begins to explain. "I was on my way over already when I received a call from Mihawk that (Y/N) had been abducted. Look, I'm not going to piss you off with details, I just need to know if you know someone named Usopp."

I nod again and feel the hands twitch against me as I realize I had tensed up. "Did he take her?"

"I wasn't completely certain when I was heading over here, but there's no mistaking it now." Smoker says. "He left a note."

"I want to read it."

"Sure, he left it tacked to the gas mask he had put on you, and frankly, we wouldn't have a choice anyway." Smoker admits gruffly. "But you have to swear to do as I say, without exception, or we're going to have to come up with a plan B, and you'll be put under arrest for your own safety."

I'm certain I make a face. I don't want to promise anything without knowing anything first, but that's not the situation I'm in and understand that. Realization dawns on me and I sink into the couch, letting myself relax.

"He wants to trade, doesn't he?"

"... He does." Smoker admits, and three sets of hands let go of me at the same time. "You gonna listen to me, or not?"

"Yeah, I'll listen."

"Good. Rule #1 is you don't get to decide anything. We'll tell you what to say, and we'll tell you what to do, and you follow those instructions. With luck we'll come out of this with both of you alive." Smoker practically growls, but he's not nearly as intimidating to me as he's trying to be.

I grunt in response. It's not like I have a choice. Smoker hands over the letter, it's in a plastic evidence bag, but I can still read it.

Zoro –

I'll call tomorrow. You better be the one to answer. You for her. I'll prove she's alive when I call. Hope you still have those three swords you cherish so much.

~Sogeking

"We're going to train you on how to handle the call for tomorrow." Smoker explains. "The longer you can keep him talking, the better our chances of pinning down a location. We're also getting some other gear together. If he wants you, then he's not going to stop with the phone call."

I sit up slowly, there's a look on Smoker's face I don't like. "You're going at this heavy." I say, and even as the words come out, I can feel the room flinch. "... He's done more than just harass (Y/N)."

Mihawk sits beside me, and I don't want to hear what he's going to say before he says it. "Usopp has been killing people. According to what Officer Smoker has found, he's been behind some of the tragedies that had befallen the survivors of Kuro's attacks." Mihawk's eyes sharpen, and his tone demands my attention. "Zoro. He caused the wreck that killed (Y/N)'s adopted parents."

Confusion was first. Usopp was a good guy. A flake maybe, and certainly the biggest coward I'd ever known, but there was no way he could do something like murder. I was more likely to be a cool-blooded killer than Usopp.

"From what I could find, he's responsible for causing at least a dozen accidents in the last ten years." Smoker explains. "We went to his property for a follow up yesterday and he wasn't there. We had reason to enter, and we found... a lot. Piles of articles, maps of the city, photos of residences, and video feeds. He had been systematically stalking and keeping tabs on every survivor of Kuro's attack that was still in the area."

"Were you looking for cameras?"

"...Yeah."

"I'd be impressed if there were any in here." She says, sipping her tea and sinking into the couch. "A few years back I got really paranoid that someone was watching me, and I started checking for bugs every time I got home from anywhere. It was exhausting, but it turned into a habit and I still check every week."

"I thought you said this wasn't ongoing." I grumble.

"It isn't ongoing. That was like... six years ago. Today's the first time since then."

"... He didn't have a feed for her." I say, the memory of our conversation nearly three months ago coming to me.

"He did not. He had a monitor with her name on it, but it was broken. How'd you know?"

"She told me when we first met. She thought someone was watching her and got into a habit of sweeping her house for bugs every day. I've seen her looking around the dojo before, it's been a habit for so long." I don't know if I feel defeated or furious. Right now, I'm trying not to feel anything so I can keep my cool.

"That puts some stuff together." Smoker says finally. "He must've been stalking her directly. She's a librarian, so she was easily accessible to the public. He could've spent hours at the library as often as he wanted to, and no one would've thought he was out of place. With the windfall from the inheritance, he wouldn't have a need to work." The officer's scowl was deep. At least one of us could be angry about all of this.

Mihawk and Dr. Marco convinced me to eat, and Tashigi went over the basics of what I'd need to do during the call for the first time. I'd listen to her drill those instructions into my head over a dozen times between the evening and the next day. She looked so much like Kuina it had been haunting the first time I saw her, but she's been by with Smoker so many times at this point it doesn't bother me.

My only fear is, if things go wrong, will I eventually meet someone who looks like (Y/N)?

I will the thought out of my head and focus. The better I can do this, the better it'll go.

"Okay, repeat it all back to me." Tashigi demands. It's sunrise and I've gotten a little rest, but not much. There's a huge black box in the family room, and the call is going to be routed through it.

"Green answers the call and lets him hear me. Red mutes everyone on this side, but we'll still hear him. Nothing on my end will disconnect the call. Avoid yes or no questions. Keep him talking, even if the topic's unpleasant. Make sure we can verify (Y/N)'s safe. Avoid making any promises. Don't say anything to antagonize him." I stop and think for a second. "Don't panic if I mess up."

"Good. Take a deep breath, it'll be okay."

The waiting was the worst. There was nothing to do since a distraction could throw off the whole process but waiting without distraction meant that my mind wandered. I tried to focus it, I tried to will her safety into reality. She would come home. She would survive this. It would be okay. As long as she was alive, I could face anything.

Memories danced through my head, and it was better focusing on them, than worrying about the call.

"-your voice is like wisteria, or sake." I can feel the heat in my ears, and I don't want her to see it. Not yet, I want to be able to be cool for just a little longer. "It's calming."

"ANGRY." "... At me?" I could feel myself panicking a little. I didn't want her to be mad at me, I didn't want to be the source of any of her discomfort. She scribbled on the notepad and when I can read it, I laugh. I can't stop myself even though I try, I really try, but the words and her face have completely disarmed me.

"You were five." I was angry, angrier than I knew I could get. I wanted to go back in time and kill the man who had done this to her with my own hands. I didn't even want to use my swords, I wanted to literally tear him apart. Blood on my hands, to protect her, seemed a reasonable trade.

"Ah, Mr. Roronoa?" She called out, causing me to turn around. She smiled and pointed to the right. "Unless you're running errands, the dojo's that way." She disappeared into the library without waiting, and I stood on the library steps for a moment, dumbfounded. I wanted to see that smile again. I wanted to hear her voice, no matter what the words were.

The smile on her face twisted my heart. It wasn't anger, but the sadness in that practiced motion hurt me. "I'm sure you can petition for a Rematch because of this, if you want." Anger boiled in me, I couldn't hold it back. It seems there were some words I didn't want to hear come from her mouth. "Rematch? Over some stu-."

My phone rings, and the entire room is a flurry of activity. I focus on the phone and wait. I don't get to hit the green button to answer it, I have to leave that up to Smoker, and he needs to let the tech team get everything in place before the call starts.

Every second counts. Every word is one step closer to finding her.

He presses the green button and I steady my voice before I speak.

"What do you want, Usopp?" I ask, grimacing inwardly at the anger I can't contain.

"Ah, so you figured it out. It's been quite a long time, Zoro." He says. There's a madness in his voice I haven't heard before. "Did you figure it out first, or did the police?"

"... They did."

"Mm, but you remembered me once they did, didn't you?"

"Where's (Y/N)?" My throat almost dries up before I can get the question out.

"Oh, she's here, she's fine. Come on little warrior, speak up." My body tenses at him calling her a little warrior. She must've done something when she came around, and I'm caught between relief that she's fighting for herself, and fear that he's hurt her for it. "Oh, haha that look she's giving me, I think she wants to try beating me up again. Went a little poorly for you last time, didn't it? You should urge her to speak, Zoro, before I do it."

"(Y/N)," I feel my eyes sting, I just want to hear her voice. "It's okay. You can tell me."

There's the sound of a sharp slap and I can hear her grunt. My fists clench, but I can't lose my cool. If I lash out at Usopp then Smoker will end the call or take it over. Things could go bad quickly and the trace might not complete.

"No bullshit," he warns, his voice hard and stern. "Just say "I'm alive". They don't need to know any more than that."

"I'm alive." I can hear the anger in her voice, the energy. I can feel some part of myself relax.

"See now, she's alive. And she'll stay that way, all through this entire cursed ordeal, as long as you - Roronoa Zoro - come here and retrieve her. Bring police if you want, helicopters, snipers; the marines, for all I care. But if anyone comes in before you, I'll kill her.

"You, and the Wado Ichimonji, Zoro. That's what I want to see before I let her go."

I don't know what to say to this. I can't promise anything, but I want to give him everything he wants if he'll hand her over safely for it. Before I can even reply I hear her voice, desperate and scared, different from before.

"Zoro don't! He wants you to-oof!" The blow makes me flinch, I can hear her crumple through the phone, and my blood runs cold when Usopp speaks.

"You remember where you'd practice your Santoryu, right?" He says quickly into the phone, his earlier collected tone completely shattered. "She's here, so you'll find your way, I'm sure, but don't take too long. I'm not giving this ingrate the blanket back after that, and she'll freeze before the night's over."

"Usopp, don't hurt-." The line went dead. "... her."

"Was it enough?" Smoker asks one of the techs. I don't know what the response is, but it doesn't matter.

"I know where he is." I say evenly. "And you have to let me go."

There's a heavy silence, and after a moment Smoker sighs. "Yeah. Our chances of getting her out of there alive are better if you go in first. We'll get you protective gear-."

"No." I say it so harshly I surprise myself. "I'm safer if I can move freely."

"He's right." Mihawk asserts. "His reactions will be slowed by anything he's not used to wearing."

"Are you really advocating for me to send your son into a hostage situation without so much as a vest?" Smoker's tone was level, but he was clearly caught off-guard.

"I am. He's been training since he seven. Some faith must be put into more than twenty years of experience." Mihawk levels his gaze at me and I return it. I'm glad to know we're on the same page, and I'll have to thank him for his support later.

"... Fine. It's early. We're going to set up a perimeter and get backup in place for you. He said we could come and so we shall. You're going to go in first, with a wire, I want to know everything that's said. The more information we have the more we can control. I know you're not a chatty guy, but if you see something like explosives or traps you have to say so."

I nod.

Hang on, (Y/N), please. Long enough for me to find you.

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