#how he's more afraid of knowing his true self than facing off against God and The Devil

[daisy--haze]

im loving all the superwholuck stuff circling around again. however there is a problem. i am starting to think about destiel unironically again

[vyutg]

☆ virgin loser!hanbin

content ⊂⊃ loser!hanbin x female reader, 18+

️️ ️️️️️️️️️ ️️—

hanbin had always felt self-conscious about his lack of experience, hence his reluctance to physical intimacy. he was always shy and reserved, a true nerd at heart. you assumed he must have had at least some experience in doing sexual stuff. but he explained that he had always been focused in his studies.

he wasn’t clueless about it at all, he was just inexperienced. how many times has he touched himself to the thought of you?

hanbin started fidgeting with his glasses, an indication that he was nervous and that he had something on his mind. after a few moments of silence, you rolled your eyes and said, “we don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable, hanbin.” because as much as you wanted to seem unfazed by his behavior, you were still concerned about him.

he took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “i’ve never done this before and i don’t want to disappoint you.” you could tell he was tense about the whole thing, too shy to make a move, afraid that you would judge or reject him.

you decided to be the one to initiate things and gently kissed his neck, causing him to let out a soft moan, his heart racing as you shifted forward and finally kissed his lips. it was like a switch had been flipped and his shyness disappeared in that moment. he slowly moved his lips along with yours, carefully, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong and make you stop.

the kisses turned into a heated make out session, with you seated on hanbin’s lap. you could feel his cock pressing against your cunt. you broke the kiss and looked at him, his face red as he seemed to be thinking carefully of what to do next. hanbin wanted you so bad. he wanted to touch you, to feel you. he wanted you to be his first so badly, but he was too shy that he didn’t know how to express it.

“do you trust me?”

he looked at you with complete honesty as anticipation built within him. “i trust you. i want nothing more than to please you. so please do whatever you need in the moment, if you have to pull me closer.. or push me away—“

“you talk a lot, loser.”

“sorry, i got carried—“ hanbin let out a soft gasp as your fingers glide over the buttons of his uniform, revealing more skin with each click. he once again bit his lip nervously, a silent encouragement for you to continue. he watched you take off his uniform and proceed to take off his pants as well.

by the time the last piece of his clothing hit the floor, he gulped nervously and mumbled, “should i undress you too?”

“you’re so polite, it turns me on.” you scoffed. “but yeah sure, if you’d like.”

he nodded. hanbin gently slid his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up slowly. he audibly gulped at the sight of your breasts peeking out from the lace of your bra. he swallowed hard to keep his composure as he pulled your bra down, revealing more of your breasts with each passing second.

“you wanna feel them?” you asked.

he looked at you, fighting the urge to touch you and explore further.

“what? i need to know what you want, hanbin.”

he nodded eagerly, unable to resist you any longer. “i wanna touch you.”

that made you giggle. “see? it wasn’t that hard.”

he spent a few moments exploring your body; letting you feel the warmth of his palms on your breasts, trailing kisses down your neck, and tracing the curves of your body with his fingertips and lips. you both allowed yourselves to get lost in the sensation.

“i’ve been dying for this,” hanbin whispered into your ear as he positioned himself between your legs. he held onto your hips, steadying himself, eyes filled with desire. “tell me if it hurts.” he let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to thrust into you right away.

“shut up, you’re the virgin one here— oh god!” you couldn’t help but moan when he entered you as he shuddered at the feeling of finally being inside you.

he groaned in relief and started moving slowly, every inch of him in you driving him wild. both of your bodies were shaking with each thrust.

“hngggh.. fuck— feels good.” he grew bolder in his movements, gradually picking up the pace, matching it with your breaths. your grip on his arms became tighter as he thrusted even faster, your breasts jiggling with every thrust.

hanbin thrusted harder, losing himself completely to his passion. you couldn’t do anything but moan under him as he moved in and out of you. “bin… please don’t stop… haaah…”

“fuck baby, fuck fuck fuck fuck— so close… so close baby..” he felt the intensity reaching its peak and thrusted harder and faster. he was panting heavily, eyes locked on yours.

you could see the sheer of satisfaction and happiness on hanbin’s face as he came on your stomach. he held you close as you both came down from your climax.

“how was it?” you asked, voice surprisingly soft and gentle.

he swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotions. “it felt… great,” he said softly. “i never thought my first time would be with someone as amazing as you.” he continued, still panting.

hanbin had offered to clean you up before you could even scold him for cumming on you. but you were honestly thankful that he had pulled out even if you were on the pill. it just showed that he knew what to do during that moment, considering that you didn’t talk about contraceptives before doing the deed.

“thank you,” he said while you were laying together, voice thick with emotion.

you just smiled at him, finding the moment endearing that you didn’t want to ruin it by saying something mean. your loser deserves to be treated nicely and sweetly sometimes.

© vyutg, 2024.

[ohbo-ohno]

Gaz x reader with mad scientist/doctor? Maybe like, brothers best friend gaz who's wanted reader for a long time and is willing to try *anything* to get her to feel something, even if it means trying some experimental sciencey stuff 🐰

1k game here - no more please!

first gaz ask for this little celebration! love him <3 very little sciencey stuff here i'm afraid, it's mostly just porn

2k of corrupt alpha doctor gaz taking care of his favorite omega patient in a very unethical way (cw: a/b/o, use of drugs, soft noncon sex but noncon sex nonetheless!)

Gaz smiles down at your prone form, unable to resist stroking a stray bit of hair off of your face.

God, you're so pretty. Delicate little nose, chubby cheeks just made to pinch, and pretty plush lips. It takes everything in him not to press a kiss to them, to see what they feel like against his.

But you'll wake up soon enough, and he'll get all the kisses he wants. If everything goes to plan, you should be more than willing.

He forces himself to pull back before he can sink into his own instincts too much. It's hard, with your scent ripening and filling the room around him. He'd brought nose-plugs just incase, but he knows tasting your scent would be even worse.

He's a professional, though, so he takes a few shallow breaths and forces himself under control.

He's waited too long to squander this opportunity now. Years of watching from the sidelines as you grow up, watching you go off to college and forcing his alpha down at the thought of you with anyone else.

It was only a matter of time before he couldn't control himself anymore. This - you laying here, a forced heat beginning - was always the natural conclusion since you absolutely refuse to see how perfect Gaz could be for you.

He wish he could take you home. He'd like to spend your first heat in a nest in his den, not yours, but needs must. When you'd invited him over for an afternoon cup of tea, he hadn't been able to resist the urge any longer.

It was laughably easy to drop the little tablet into your mug when you stepped out to go to the bathroom. He'd hardly been able to hold back his purr when you drank the whole thing without even noticing, fully trusting that he wouldn't have done anything to it.

You'd passed out soon after. He sat with you on the couch and watched you get sleepier and sleepier, cute little yawns every few minutes, big stretches where you stuck your legs out and curled your toes. Fucking adorable.

It was easy to carry you to your room once you were fully asleep. He knows you're self-conscious about your body - even now, decades into knowing each other, you get flushed and annoyed when Gaz tries to touch you. It wasn't as easy to strip you, but he'd gotten to spend a few wonderful, peace-filled minutes appreciating every bit of skin he revealed to himself.

He can't wait to spend hours showing you just how beautiful he finds your body.

One of the benefits to riding out your first heat with him your own den will certainly be the familiar smells. You should already be in the throes of pre-heat when you wake up, and the familiar scents plus the scent of an alpha should help drive you to true heat soon enough.

He can't wait.

He brings any blankets he can find while you sleep, folding them and leaving them neatly at the foot of the bed. He brings out a few of the shirts he'd brought too, then takes off his own and lays it on the pillow next to your head. He leaves his pants on, unsure if that might be a bit too much before you fully enter your heat.

He's folding the final blanket when you first start to stir. He quickly abandons his task, sitting on the bed next to you and helping you sit up.

"Kyle?" You mumble, rubbing a fist against your eye.

"Morning, sleepy head," he teases, rubbing your back. "Feeling alright? You passed out on the couch earlier?"

"I did? Oh..." you trail off, a cute furrow between your brows. Before you can say anything else, there's a rush of pleasure scenting the room, and you keel over your stomach with a loud whine.

Kyle nearly mounts your right then and there. It takes everything in him to take a deep breath, to stroke your back and ask, "Love? Are you alright?"

You can't answer with words, instead moan loudly as you fall back to your side on the bed. Kyle shifts to try and help you up before he sees what you're doing.

You shift from your stomach to your knees, thick ass held high in the air, and your fingers quickly move to work at your dripping cunt.

Kyle gapes at the sight - he never would've expected the pre-heat to hit you so quickly, but you're clearly already lost to it.

"Oh, baby," he coos, quickly moving to kneel behind you. He forces himself to leave his pants on, knows he would fuck and knot you if he took them off now. "Here, let me help."

You let your hand drop as soon as his fingers replace them, whining loudly when he strokes over your clit. He rubs his free hand across your ass, shakes his hand just enough to watch it jiggle.

"Do you need to come, love?"

He gets an incoherent whine in response and smiles, shifting his hand to sink two fingers easily inside of you, working his thumb at your sensitive nub.

You're wonderfully loud, mindless moans and whines echoing off your bedroom walls as you try your best to rock your hips back onto his fingers, knees spread wide to give Kyle all the access he could want.

He salivates at the sight of you, mouth filling with spit as your pre-heat triggers his pre-rut. His cock is fully hard in his trousers, and it gets more and more difficult every second to not mount you.

When you finally come, he buries his teeth in your ass. He can't let himself get a taste of you yet, that would send the both of you spiraling, but he needs to feel you between his jaws.

He helps you sink down to lay on your stomach once the aftershocks have passed, stroking wet fingers over the soft skin of your back.

"You alright, love?" He whispers, leaning down to hover in front of your face. "We should have a few more hours before your heat hits, is there anything you need before then?"

He understands his miscalculation as soon as you blink up at him.

Your pupils are blown - he can hardly see your irises, and at this close of a distance he can see his own reflection. Your mouth parts, then your little pink tongue dips out to rest on your lip as you pant.

He must've given you too high of a dosage - he'd mistaken your first orgasm as pre-heat, when really it had just been the start of your true heat.

Kyle takes a deep breath, almost choking on the thick scent of omega in the air. He'd hoped to maybe have a few hours before you completely lost coherency, but this is far from the worst case scenario.

Skipping the pre-heat likely means you won't build a nest for him to share in, but that's alright - you'd only have to rebuild one in his home anyone.

He's jerked from his musing by your desperate moan of, "Alpha."

He can't bite back the growl at that, tightening his hold on you and rolling you to your back. "Yes," he hisses, every instinct inside of him fucking singing. "Omega, my omega. Need your Alpha, yeah?"

A keen and you rut your hips into his, wrapping your thick thighs around his waist to try and force him where you want.

He rumbles a low note of disapproval, using one hand to collar your throat and the other to hold you down by the hips. "Say it for me, Omega. Tell me what you need."

Your eyes clear a bit, and for just a moment he's seeing you - not the omega sunk into her heat, but his girl, his precious love staring up at him.

"Need you, Alpha," you whisper, voice just edging on shaky. "Pl-please, need you so bad, can't.... ohhhhh, Alpha." You quickly devolve into moans, eyes clouding over again as you wriggle beneath him.

He's not a cruel man, so he doesn't make you wait. He relishes in your begging, notches the tip of his dripping cock at your hole, and pushes in.

It has to hurt - he's far from small and two fingers can't have been a proper stretch - but you moan like you've never felt better in your life. Tears streak down your temples as he bottoms out, wordless sounds of pure pleasure all you're capable of.

"Yes," he moans, quickly pulling out and thrusting back in. "Feel so good 'mega, fuck, not gonna.... not gonna last long. Gonna give you my knot real soon, you want that?"

"Yes!" You nearly shout, fully lost in the heat. "Yes, yes, pleeease, Alpha, need it, need your knot so bad, can't- oh please, please, pleasepleaseplease-"

He huffs over you and fucks into your cunt more harshly, hips slapping into the backs of your thighs with bruising force. It's all he can do to keep from choking you, fingers flexing around your throat.

"Good omega," he rumbles, teeth beginning to lengthen against his tongue. His grin is feral as he forces your chin up, preparing you for his bite. "Alpha's fucking you good, huh? Giving you his fat dick in your little cunt?"

"Ye-eees!"

"And you take it so well. Gonna take my knot just as well? My bite?"

The b-word is what triggers your second orgasm. He has to fight to hold you down as your back arches off the bed, your heat clenching around him in the most deliciously pleasureable way possible.

"Need- need your bite, Alpha, please! 'm good, 'm bein' good, please give me your bite, need it, need it so bad, Alpha, please-"

He snarls at your begging, hunches over you with both elbows braced on the side of your head and forces his knot into you. It's a tough fit, and your moans shift to shouts before he can finally pop the bulbous shape inside of you. Then the two of you moan in unison, both lost in the sensations.

"Gonna give you my bite," he pants, half delirious. It's easy to pin your head to the side when you're so willing like this, his mouth ghosting over the column of your neck.

if he were any more aware of himself, he'd drag this out. Say something romantic that you could remember later, something about how he's suffered alone for years to allow you to grow up, how he's so glad you're giving him the gift of biting you now, how he'll always take care of you, never let you hurt like you made him hurt, he'll always be there for you, never leave you alone, never let you go-

But he's nearly as incoherent as you are, so instead of any sort of romantic speech, you get a growl and a pair of canines buried deep in the tender spot between neck and shoulder.

You don't quite scream, but your cries of pain are loud and distressing to his alpha. He tunnels one hand between your bodies, working at your clit while he makes sure the mark takes.

You're either a bit of a masochist or further along in your heat than he realized, because your cunt clenches rhythmically on him just a few moments later, milking him of all the cum he's got to give.

He rolls the two of you over, minutes later. He makes sure to lick over the bite as you lay on top of him, clearing your blood away as best he can before it stains the sheets.

You're asleep by the time he finishes, and he huffs a laugh to himself at your little snores. He wraps both arms around your back, hands lacing together at the small of your back.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself as his knot begins to slowly deflate inside of you, smiling contentedly.

He knows you'll probably be a bit upset with him when you first come out of the heat, but you can never leave him now that he's given you his bite. He can already feel a bond forming, a place in the center of his chest tying right to yours.

He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[hexblooddruid]

Fuck it, WIP Wednesday

Astarion gazes at her while she’s turned away from him, completely focused on tending to his scratches. After he returned from his hunt she immediately hounded him about his injuries (mere scratches, he protested), forcing him to sit so she could clean and dress them. How someone of her stature is able to to speak with such authority is beyond him but he found himself obeying, nonetheless, with only a small amount of complaining. She had spent the last of her magical energy bringing him back up from unconsciousness in the fight against the Gur hunter, so she was tending to his wounds “the old fashioned way”.

He remembers waking up in the swamp, her small hands on either side of his head, her healing magic washing over him. He felt the coolness of the river, the warmth of the sun. Being the sole focus of her care now, the two of them sitting in front of his tent while those same hands tended to his wounds, felt like that as well.

“I wasn’t expecting you to agree to eliminate the Gur. It’s…unlike you.”

“Oh and you know me so well, do you?” She’s still not facing him, completely focused on her task, but he sees the corner of her lips curl into a smirk.

“I have to, don’t I? If we’re going to keep traveling together.” His own lips curl into a self satisfied grin when he sees her smirk grow into a smile at his reminder of the promise she made to him less than a tenday ago. “I’ve seen enough now to know that you don’t like… unnecessary violence.”

“It was necessary,” she interjects in a soft voice, still focusing on his scratches. “He was going to kidnap you. I-we had to protect you.” He sees her tense up. He knows she’s lying. Shadowheart and Karlach wanted nothing to do with that fight. It was her who made that decision.

“You really didn’t.”

“Well, Astarion, I did”, her voice raising as she finally paused from her ministrations to look him straight in the face. The eye contact was brief as she quickly turned to focus on the bruises marking his face.

Why can’t she look at me?

“Why can’t you look into my eyes? Do you find me so enchanting? Are you afraid of being hypnotized?”, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

She chuckles then her face turns contemplative, carefully weighing her words. “I’m sorry, looking into your eyes sometimes it’s…it’s as if I’m looking into an open wound. One far more gruesome than the ones I’m currently tending to. At least these I know how to deal with”, now wiping the blood off the side of his face, her voice softening again.

A cold wave of realization washes over Astarion. Ahh, of course. Predation is a two edged sword*. In his time trying to get what he wants from her (her blood, her protection, her focus) he’s given her the opportunity to see glimpses of him.

“I don’t know what made you want to go after such a dangerous meal after all you went through today, anyway”, her voice barely above a whisper, interrupts his thoughts as she continued to clean the wounds on his face.

“Any meal worth having is dangerous, darling”, he says on edge but trying to cover it up with bravado. “And I know it’s nothing compared to-”his eyes glance over to the two messy marks on her neck,”-to well, other things I could be dining on. But it’s better than the rats and bugs Cazador served me.”

“Gods I’m sorry.” Her eyes turn to him briefly. “Bugs, really?”

“Really! Still that was in the past. I’ll never have to grovel for him again,” this time he was the one to break eye contact, realizing that she’s done it again and got a real answer out of him.

How in the hells does she keep doing this?

“That’s true.” She starts to clean the bruises and wipe the blood from the other side of his face, her fingers gently nudging his jaw so she can get a better angle. He unconsciously acquiesces . “You can start over. Be different, maybe.”

“Exactly! I can be better than him. Stronger. More powerful! More-” Seeing her raised eyebrows, he realizes that this might not be exactly what she meant. “-oh you meant ‘be kinder’? Pet bunnies, that sort of thing?”

“Is petting bunnies so terrible?”

“Ugh, don’t give me those Kitty Bryn eyes. I’ve no objection to being nice, of course. Once I have the power to bend others to my will.”

That’s it. I’m a monster. She simply needs a reminder.

“That sounds like an objection to being nice.” At this, she pulled her hands away from him entirely and let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re free now. That’s all that matters.”

She moves to clean the blood around his mouth and neck but his quick hands grab her wrist before she can get there. He’s reached his limit. Her touching his arms and face, that he could handle. But her touching his neck, along with her words, that he's free, he’s safe, that he could be better. It was all too much.

Here’s my chance.

“No, Bryn,” using his grip to tug her body toward him, forcing her to look at him directly. “I’ll be safe when I’m powerful enough to grind Cazador into the dust. Powerful enough to do whatever the hell I want.”

His grip is tight on her wrist. He's not aiming to hurt her, just to gain control. He wants her hands to stop. He wants her to look at him directly. He watches all the tenderness fall from her face as she goes from concerned to calculating then combative.

“Be careful Astarion,” her voice cold as his skin. “There are heroes about. I’d hate for them to get the right idea about you”, she retorts, not breaking eye contact.

Ahh there it is. Here comes her teeth.

“Let them,” he sneers. “Heroes are half the damn problem. Fools that believe in right and wrong- good and evil,” looking her straight in the face. “Heroes didn’t save me from Cazador, mind flayers did.”

“Well it wasn’t mind flayers that saved you today. I think I’m done here.” She tries to rise but he refuses and tugs her back down, doubling down on his grip on her.

“Bryn, they gave me a gift,” he continues as she squirms in his grasp “the strength to take my own freedom. I’m embracing this power’-his voice and eyes soften, causing her to finally still and face him-"you should too. I know you want to. I’ve seen your teeth.” She says nothing as she finally wrests herself from his grip and walks away, leaving him alone in his tent.

*shamelessly stolen from @thedragonagelesbian's ranger-cyrus notes

[therealsolomon-writer]

OKAY WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH THE WILL GRAHAM FINAL SHOT MEANS TO ME

First of all just dear god he looks beautiful. Just appreciate that for a second. Okay now we can move on

Oh, this face. I cannot look at this image to this day without feeling a literal pang in my heart. This is my favorite shot in the entire series, because I think it truly TRULY captures what it’s like to be Hannibal Lecter.

Will is a fighter throughout the entire series. He tried desperately to keep his true self hidden from the world, and it exhausts him. He’s so wrapped up in being other people. He’s so wrapped up in putting on a person suit. He can no longer remember who his true self is. But here, in this final scene, we see the monster emerge, and as an audience we rejoice. We do not see him as ugly, monstrous, disgusting— we see him as a beautiful person committing a beautiful act. The camera shots, the music, the sexual undertones of the entire scene, all make us realize that to Hannibal, and now to Will, this is a work of art.

And now just the details of the facial expression. In this embrace there is relief. There is the final relaxation of their muscles as they both know that they don’t have to be afraid anymore. This tumultuous five year period is over. They won.

In Will’s eyes there is exhaustion. There is wonder. There is hope. And with the way that their bodies are positioned, Hannibal can’t see this. There is no reason to put on a show, as Hannibal isn’t watching. He has the chance to show fear, anger, defeat, but he doesn’t. They didn’t have to show that little gleam of light in Will’s eyes, but they did. They wanted us to see that his passion is still there.

Will feels comfortable enough to lay his head on Hannibal’s chest. He is exposed; he is laying against Hannibal while he is also exposed. Both of them are showing their necks and refusing to bite. Will can probably feel Hannibal’s heartbeat against his cheek. I bet, just like in the novels, Hannibal’s heartbeat doesn’t increase even when he’s killing. I bet that Will likes the reminder that Hannibal is indeed human, because in this moment he feels like a God. He was wrong. Hannibal was right. Even five years ago, Hannibal knew who Will was better than Will did. Once Will realizes this, this expression of wonder makes even more sense.

This is why I’m one of those people who sees the fall off the cliff as symbolic. I don’t think it actually happened. It’s more of a representation of Will falling into this mentality. Falling in love.

Because, what’s the point in trying to kill God? What’s the point in showing such wonder when Hannibal wasn’t looking? What’s the point?

[mystacoceti]

"I'll tell him," I screamed. "I'll tell everybody. I'll fight you. I swear it, I'll fight!"

"Well," he said, sitting back, "well, I'll be damned!" For a moment he looked me up and down and I saw his head go back into the shadow, hearing a high, thin sound like a cry of rage; then his face came forward and I saw his laughter. For an instant I stared; then I wheeled and started for the door, hearing him sputter, "Wait, wait," behind me.

I turned. He gasped for breath, propping his huge head up with his hands as tears streamed down his face.

"Come on, come," he said, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes. "Come on, son," his voice amused and conciliatory. It was as though I were being put through a fraternity initiation and found myself going back. He looked at me, still laughing with agony. My eyes burned.

"Boy, you are a fool," he said. "Your white folk didn't teach you anything and your mother-wit has left you cold. What has happened to you young Negroes? I thought you had caught on to how things are done down here. But you don't even know the difference between the way things are and the way they're supposed to be. My God," he gasped, "what is the race coming to? Why, boy, you can tell anyone you like -- sit down there . . . Sit down, sir, I say!"

Reluctantly I sat, torn between anger and fascination, hating myself for obeying.

"Tell anyone you like," he said. "I don't care. I wouldn't raise my little finger to stop you. Because I don't owe anyone a thing, son. Who, Negroes? Negroes don't control this school or much of anything else -- haven't you learned even that? No, sir, they don't control this school, nor white folk either. True they support it, but I control it. I's big and black and I say 'Yes, suh' as loudly as any burr-head when it's convenient, but I'm still the king down here. I don't care how much it appears otherwise. Power doesn't have to show off. Power is confident, self-assuring, self-starting and self-stopping, self-warming and self-justifying. When you have it, you know it. Let the Negroes snicker and the crackers laugh! Those are the facts, son. The only ones I even pretend to please are big white folk, and even those I control more than they control me. This is a power set-up, son, and I'm at the controls. You think about that. When you buck against me, you're bucking against power, rich white folk's power, the nation's power -- which means government power!"

He paused to let it sink in and I waited, feeling a numb, violent outrage

"And I'll tell you something your sociology teachers are afraid to tell you," he said. "If there weren't men like me running schools like this, there'd be no South. Nor North, either. No, and there'd be no country -- not as it is today. You think about that, son." He laughed. "With all your speechmaking and studying I thought you understood something. But you . . . All right, go ahead. See Norton. You'll find that he wants you disciplined; he might not know it, but he does. Because he knows that I know what is best for his interests. You're a black educated fool, son. These white folk have newspapers, magazines, radios, spokesmen to get their ideas across. If they want to tell the world a lie, they can tell it so well that it becomes the truth; and if I tell them that you're lying, they'll tell the world even if you prove you're telling the truth. Because it's the kind of lie they want to hear . . ."

I heard the high thin laugh again. "You're nobody, son. You don't exist -- can't you see that?”

from Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison

[yandere-daze]

hey! amir has just been taking up some space in my mind lately so id like to request something for them (headcanons or scenario) in case his s/o ever found out about who they truly were. I like fluff so id appreciate if the s/o could be understanding about it, but im not against some angst either

Hehe good! It seems like my evil masterplan of making my followers simp for Amir is working 😏But no for real, so happy with all of the requests I´m getting for them!!

Hope you like this, I tried to keep it as fluffy as possible ^^ It´s more of a hurt/comfort thingy I would say though so be cautious that there is a bit of angst with Amir at least!

tw yandere ( barely, but as always I will mention it), self-doubt, slight angst, implied stalking I guess?

What if his s/o found out about his true identity?

Okay so I need to start this off by saying that this would most likely be a nightmare scenario in Amir´s mind. They have been trying to keep their real identity a secret from you to the best of their abilities for a long time now, fearing that you might one day find out

His main fear is that you might hate him if you found out that he was actually a god. Now of course, Amir doesn´t think so lowly of you that you would be prejudiced against him for who he is but he fears for your reaction once you find out that they had been lying to you all this time

He hates having to pretend that he is human and he´s not having an easy time with it either because there´s so many things that he is unfamiliar with but he just thinks it´s better that way

What would you think if you knew that they had been watching you in heaven for months before coming down to earth to seek you out to try and get closer to you? You must think they´re some sort of disgusting creep and a filthy liar on top of that!

Really, they´ve been scared of this moment for so long now, picturing worst case scenarios in their mind and scaring themselves even futher, that Amir had never even considered that you might just...accept him for who he is

Your realization that your dear beloved might not be a human doesn´t come from one singular moment where he might have shown his true colors but rather from several small instances in which he had shown strange behaviour

You thought it strange that Amir was so far behind on internet terms and customs (like that one time you t-posed right in front of them) but had assumed that they might just have come from a very isolated small village where they had no access to the internet or something. It´s rare but not impossible so you just went along with it and explained all you could to Amir

But then these instances just kept piling on, regular things that most humans would most likely know about. How do you turn on a stove? What is a radio? Why are these two humans kissing each other? ( Yes Amir had indeed referred to them as “humans” which was more than a little weird in your eyes). What are these weird large machines with 4 wheels that seem to swallow humans that he keeps seeing everywhere? Aren´t they dangerous? Are they going to hurt you?? Should they be fighting them off???

So yes, something was clearly wrong to say the least so even though it  seemed far-fetched you considered that Amir himself might not be human. Silly, right?

You had thought the same, but the way Amir sputtered and stumbled over his words when you had made an off-handed remark about it while you were hanging out together made you think otherwise

“What? I- N-No! Wait! Please, no! Don´t hate me! I´m so sorry for lying to you but I- I just couldn´t tell you the truth! I understand if you want me to leave now  but I just...”

You were quite taken aback but seeing Amir look so shaken and afraid made your heart clench so lay a comforting hand on his shoulder to try and help him calm down

The fact that you weren´t pulling away or making any disgusted faces at him was more relieving for Amir to see than you could ever have imagined

You were listening to him

You would hear him out

You weren´t disgusted with him right off the bat

You didn´t hate him

yet

he reminded himself

But at least there was still a chance. So when you urged them to explain, there was no stopping them anymore. Amir had kept his identity a secret from you for what felt like an eternity so now that they could finally reveal everything to you, their words burst forth like the raging waters of a waterfall

They told you absolutely everything. That they were actually the god of love and that he had spent almost all of his long life up in heaven. How they spent day and night matchmaking humans from up above but never having experienced any of that himself.

And then, and this was hardest for him to admit, Amir had seen you and grown incredibly interested in you. ( They tried to at least keep their deep love for you a bit ambigious because even though they were telling you so much right now, they didn´t feel like they were ready to confess that they harbored feelings for you even before actually meeting you, just from watching you day in and out)

And because of that, they had decided to come down to earth to get to know you better.

“I´m so sorry for staying quiet about this for so long but I thought you would not believe me if I told you! Or even worse, you might have been scared of me or even disgusted and I really didn´t want that to happen!”

It´s a huge relief to Amir when you tell him that it´s okay and that you believe him.

“You don´t have to feel bad about hiding it, I would have done the same. But knowing this about you changes nothing for me! You´re still the same Amir I deeply care about and nothing I´ve heard today has changed my mind about that.”

Honestly, Amir would feel like their heart could burst right this moment, he feels so fuzzy and happy all over. This was the best possible outcome: He doesn´t have to hide who he is anymore and you accept him for who he is

Of course you would accept them, you´ve been nothing but gracious and kind to him, how could they ever have doubted you? They should be ashamed of themselves for even thinking that you might abandon them for something like this!

But really Amir can´t even be bothered to talk themselves down too much because they are just so so happy and relieved that it all ended well

You could swear he´s tearing up when you wrap your arms around him for a hug. His body is trembling in your grasp but he doesn´t hesitate to wrap his arms around you as well, the powerful emotions coursing through him enough to push past his usual shyness

Just, please keep telling Amir how much they mean to you and that you love them, they are really craving the reassurances right now

Or pepper his face in kisses! He loves that and he´s just so happy to receive any affection from you that he can!

You will most likely spend the rest of the day huddled together, cuddling and holding hands under a comfortable blanket, just enjoying each other´s presence

[totiredtowrite]

Wolf In Sheeps Clothing

Warnings - Cursing because angry boy, reader being a cold mf, reader's clothes are described (but kind of vaguely so dw)

Note: I feel like I can hear the gif for some reason :D? Kind of self indulgent so reader is shorter than kyotani. Poor mad dog, always being put in his place by pretty boys. I'll have you know that I consult the wiki everytime I write something for character details by the way. (bragging shamelessly). Reader is also a second year and the student council president because this is fiction and I'm not sure if you have to be a third year hehe

this turned out longer than I thought it would, really popped off with this one

Male Reader

Kyotani Kentarou has a new enemy.

Whether or not you knew he though of you as an enemy didn't matter to him.

Suprisingly, it doesn't happen as often as some might think. His awful attitude and uncooperative nature ensures that he makes more enemies than friends, but most people are too afraid to approach him in order to become one of the two.

His new enemy?

You. (L/n) (y/n), Student Council President.

Kyotani never really though much of you. Not when you campaigned for the spot, (despite being in the second year), and not when you got the position. He's seen you, sure, you made that whole speech when you got the part and you oversaw detention sometimes.

Kyotani, (surprisingly), didn't get detention much. On the one time you oversaw the detention class when he was supposed to be there, he decided not to go.

So, overall, he hardly saw you at all. You were nothing but a passing thought in his mind when he heard people talking about you. He never expected to talk to you, much less consider you his worst enemy.

~~~

It really was a normal day for Kyotani. He woke up, took a shower, ate on his way to school, and slipped into class with his usual "fuck with me and you die" look on.

Practice was cancelled that day as the coach was out sick, so he didn't really have anything to do. Everything was all normal for him, right up until the end of the day. Kyotani was stalking through the hallways, the other second years moving out of his way and giving hushed whispers to their friends as they got ready to leave.

He was used to that, and even liked the feeling it gave him, knowing that these people were actually afraid of him. He was close to his locker when it happened.

He ran right into you, almost knocking you back. He glowered down at you, an angry spark in his eye that would have any other student running far away. You however, just stepped back to be clear of his general bubble, and looked up at him with a frown.

Truth be told, he had never really seen you up close. True he'd overheard some of his classmates talking about how 'intimidating' and 'handsome' you were, but Kentarou didn't expect to actually feel it coming off of you. He didn't expect to point out how attractive you were right off the bat.

The hard glisten in your eye faded as you scanned his face. You know this guy. Your expression changed from 'stone cold dictator' to 'unbothered student council president.'

Somehow feeling the tension, most of the students cleared out before either of you said a word.

"Kyotani Kentarou," you said, "Number 16 on our schools volleyball team. Infamous for your out of control aggression and prowess in your sport." You smirked at him quickly, straightening your blazer and standing up straight.

"The hell," he lifted his head to look down his nose at you, "why do you know me?"

You shrug. "I keep tabs on all the students I think are troublesome. Or interesting." He watched as you casually turned to your bag and pulled out a large binder. "You're on the first page, marked in red." you had a somewhat mocking tone in your voice, that coy smirk returning.

Kyotani growled, the noise sounding surprisingly like an animal. You were much more cocky up close. Cocky and aggravating. He moved closer to you so that your chests were almost touching while you put the binder away, and looked straight down at your face. "I can be much more troublesome," he said lowly.

You barked out a laugh. "Careful there Mad Dog." You advanced, causing Kyotani to step back. "Or I might just think you're threatening me," you continued to move forward. Kyotani took more steps back. The only way he could describe the feeling was like he was being herded like a sheep.

Another animalistic growl left his throat when his back hit the lockers. By now everyone had left, leaving just the two of you. "You aren't leaving a very good first impression on your president," you say dangerously, almost mocking your own title.

"Why do I need to leave a good impression on you," he muttered out. You didn't say anything and instead lifted your arm above his shoulder to slam it by his head. He recognized this feeling. Yet somehow, it felt all different.

Not once had the rumors spoken about the affect you had on people. You scanned his face again, those intimidating (e/c) eyes holding him steady in place. His breath hitched in his throat softly when you pulled your hand back to straighten his tie. "You don't," you said referring to his earlier question, eyes focused on his tie. "And you haven't."

You pulled away from him and stepped back, patting him on the shoulder before turning on your heel to head towards the doors. You turned your head just as you were about to leave, the blue grey light from the cloudy sky making you seem more threatening. "Take care, Mad Dog." You left the school building, leaving Kentarou breathing heavily and on guard at the lockers.

~~~

He really didn't expect that from you.

He had had a similar feeling, when Yahaba threw him into a wall and scolded him during the spring preliminary game against Karasuno. Similar, but not quite the same. It felt like you had him trapped. He still had your words replaying on repeat in his mind.

Those rumors he heard about you didn't do you any justice. He never heard anything about how easily you could make people feel... things. For once, he felt like he was the one being hunted. And oh boy did he not like that. All those times he'd seen you, he thought you looked like a regular goody two shoes who would report even the smallest wrongdoing to the teachers. He didn't expect a calculated, threatening boy who had a binder of 'troublemakers' and a heavy presence.

He didn't sleep more than 2 hours that night.

Maybe it was your eyes that were etched into his mind. Maybe it was your smooth voice, that look that made it seem like there was so much more under your surface.

So naturally he came to the conclusion that you were his rival.

He managed to avoid you all till the end of the week, Sunday rolling around like a saving grace. He didn't see you once for the rest of the week, but it still felt like you were watching him with those calculated eyes of yours. His shoulder still felt all weird and tingly from where you had touched him.

The weekend felt like an asylum to him, a feeling of safety and control returning to him when his older sister sent him out to go pick up some things from the store.

Kyotani had decided to cut through the park on his way back, but now he was quickly regretting his decision. It's not like he was afraid of you, he just thought that avoiding you would be the best option.

The last place he expected you to be was sitting in the park, staring out at the little man-made pond with a few birds at your feet. You had an overcoat on to compensate for the slightly chilly weather, a sweater visible underneath it. Your shoes were tapping the ground rhythmically.

You looked much less intimidating out of uniform. You had a neutral, content look on your face, cheek squished against your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. It was almost cute, he thought, if that was the right word for it.

"Are you just going to stand there forever," you turned your face towards him and regarded him with lidded eyes. "You can sit down you know."

He jumped, standing still for a second before slowly moving towards you. His guard up like a wall as memories of your last interaction replayed through his mind. His breath quickened ever so slightly, and his ears turned pink.

He slid into place on the bench next to you. You turned towards him again and smiled. He went bright red.

It was an actual smile. Not that cocky smirk, but a soft clad cute smile. You focused your attention back on to the pond.

"You live around here," Kyotani inquired gruffly.

You nodded. "I don't go out much. Usually cooped up in my room working on god knows what." You leaned back, draping your arms gracefully across the back of the bench. "Sorry about our little encounter, by the way. I must have come off way scary, right?" You gave him that soft smile again.

He looked away and hid his cheeks with his hand. "Like I'd be afraid of you," he muttered.

You hummed softly. A thought struck him. He regained his composure before speaking again. "You must have known that I live around here, right?"

You nodded wordlessly. "It was in your file."

Kyotani decided not to comment on how creepy that was, and instead muttered out a small "oh."

Neither of you said a word for a few moments.

"We really got off on the wrong foot, huh?" You turned your whole body towards him, watching his movements like a cat.

He just grunted.

You laughed a little bit, and extended your hand. "Why don't we start over. I'm (l/n) (y/n)."

Kyotani eyed your hand suspiciously before taking it. The tingly feeling returned, but this time it felt stronger as both your hands were bare. Your slightly smaller hand gripped his firmly, the slight size difference making Kyotani blush a bit.

You really weren't what he thought, were you? Even so, you were still his enemy. His cute, scary, calculated, calm enemy.

He doesn't even know what hit him.

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.

[6okuto]

Please for the love of god don’t answer this while ur still in midterms because I am still in midterms and it’s hell and I sympathize w you heavy 🤝🤝

Anyway uno reverse, my mc at least does NOT want to go back to earth. Thinking lots about Felix kind of bringing up getting them back to earth even tho he doesn’t want that but thinks mc does. and mc going “please don’t make me go back there, this is the happiest I’ve ever been, I always wished that I could escape to another universe. please let me stay”

— felix when mc doesn't want to return to earth

note: omg...real. good luck on ur midterms if ur still doing them </3 i believe in u :100: if u aren't then i hope ur marks are fast and Good. we will survive fr #STUDENTLIFE #ACADEMIA also i made sure to use ur dialogue aheehoo

that choice where you respond to the idea of staying in astraea. mc says yes and a sense of relief/joy washes over felix, but there's still a little voice in the back of his mind that's scared

he wouldn't hold it against them for taking it back. always prepare for the worse, right?

but...they don't

even after fighting monsters, watching him die, dying themself, they haven't brought up the idea of going home. and it seems a little too good to be true, felix thinks. (ok self sabotage)

what if they said that just to protect him? what if they changed their mind at some point and just don't want to hurt him? the guilt and anxiety start to eat at him so he decides he should bring it up himself

"mc, can i ask you something?" "hm? yeah, of course you can." "about...you returning to earth, don't you think it's time we begin discussing how to go about it?"

he struggles to make eye contact while asking. but when all he's met with is silence, his eyes shoot up and there's an unreadable expression on their face. "...what?'

"well, everything has been dealt with, i believe. and you've been gone for so long, i'm afraid of the consequences that might come with staying longer," he says. but mc only starts fidgeting and staring at the floor, and now he's afraid that he's said something wrong.

"mc?" "felix, please, i—" they cut themself off and frown. “please don’t make me go back there. this is the happiest i’ve ever been."

felix is Genuinely confused. i mean, a part of him is bursting with affection, but there's so many reasons for mc to feel differently. and then he's hit with concern because why would their home be worse than fighting the lord of shadows? from all the stories they've shared, earth had its problems but it also had so much more that astraea—that he couldn't offer.

"mc...you have a life back on earth, a home, things i've never heard of. your favourite shows, foods, music...would you really be willing to give it all up?"

they both look at each other for a while until mc breaks eye contact. felix can feel his heart twist while he watches them try to form words. he didn't want them to deal with this. if he could make it easier for both of them he would, but he can't. it was up to them, and even though he loved the idea of them staying, he couldn't get rid of the fear that they'd be unhappy.

"i always wished that i could escape to another universe, you know?" they finally say, biting their lip. "that i could start somewhere new in a fantasy world from a story...be someone else. and then it happened"—they look up at him—"even if it was an accident, i'm here. i know i'm leaving behind a lot, and i know it's dangerous and that i probably seem stupid, but i've thought about it almost every day and..." they trail off. they close their eyes, and their voice is quieter and wavers, "please let me stay.”

in that moment, felix realizes that even when he was too scared to bring it up, mc was thinking about it more often than he could imagine. they were resolute in their decision a long, long time ago. he almost wants to hit himself for thinking they weren't plagued with the idea the same way he was. but he wasn't the priority here so instead he smiles, "mc, i'd love if you stayed."

he watches the tension release from their shoulders and eyes light up, "...really?" "there's no one else i'd want to spend my days with more."

mc grins (and maybe almost cries) and wraps their arms around his neck, saying a muffled "thank you" against his skin

"but if you...if you ever change your mind, i'm sure we can still find a way." "are you trying to get rid of me?" "what? no—no, no, i—" felix panics until mc smiles a little at his reaction and he huffs.

"don't do that to me." they laugh but kiss his nose, "i'm sorry." smiling softly, they say "thank you for letting me stay."

felix's own gaze softens as he reaches for their hand, planting a kiss on their forehead, "thank you for wanting to stay."

[jangofctts]

As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea. 

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair. 

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week. 

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield. 

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him. 

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield. 

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you… 

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.      

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”   

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever. 

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality. 

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you. 

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

                          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up. 

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.  

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting. 

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.” 

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help. 

Or maybe it’s penance. 

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting. 

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.” 

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.         

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar. 

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do. 

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in. 

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin. 

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow. 

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it. 

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter. 

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.              

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.” 

                            -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing. 

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.  

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder. 

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.” 

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more. 

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing— 

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide. 

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer. 

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.   

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat. 

What a way to go.    

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more. 

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you. 

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs. 

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject. 

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.   

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger. 

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.  

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”   

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.  

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation. 

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious. 

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh. 

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good. 

Cheeky bastard.  

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.    

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him. 

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears. 

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.” 

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease. 

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him. 

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking. 

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin. 

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.  

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam. 

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor. 

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear. 

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch. 

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?” 

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” 

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

[babyboibucky]

Should’ve Known Better

Pairing: EB!Frank x Reader

Summary: You should have known better than to sleep with a friend.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, FWB set-up, a little bit of toxic shit, angst

A/N: Frank got the most votes when I asked which other Seb character I should write for, so here it is! This is very personal to me lmfao it’s somewhat based on my own experience that really fucked me up a couple of years ago aksncajscna no but for real, stay away from the friends with benefits kind of relationship if you can’t keep shit purely sexual lmao also some guys are just fucking assholes even if they’re your friend lol

ALSO, I tagged those who are in my Everything Bucky Tag List. I’m not sure if I’ll write more Frank in the future too so I won’t be creating a separate tag list for him yet.

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Do you love me?"

It was a simple question that was supposed to make you think. Given your experiences and your personality in general, you were supposed to cringe and ignore it. Maybe even make a joke out of it, especially that it was Frank who was asking you this question.

He wasn't supposed to ask it too. He wasn't one to ask such thing, not especially with the relationship that the both of you have. It was clear from the get go that this was nothing serious.

So why was he asking it now?

And why did you respond to it right away, as if you knew your answer even before he asked?

-

"Come on, it'll be fun."

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"I'll make you feel good, you won't regret this."

It did feel good, you were going to give Frank that. Possibly the best, even. But the latter part? You weren't so sure. Were you regretting it? Honestly, no.

Maybe not yet.

You'd rather not think about it for now.

"What's there to lose? We know each other too much to develop feelings anyway, you said so yourself."

Oh there's plenty to lose. Maybe a decade's worth of platonic (was it really platonic from the beginning though?) friendship. Your self-esteem was on the line too, but you didn't know it yet. You'll get there though, whether you like it or not.

"I'm free next Friday, come over. Spend the night with me. What do you say?"

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"Next Friday. I'll see you, okay?"

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"Ugh, fine."

But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

-

That first night with Frank was something else. It was fun and he kept his promise to make you feel good. So, so good. You never thought that sex could be that fucking good. At least, not with your previous partners. Not that you had many in the first place.

But god, Frank knew what he was doing and he loved doing things to you. He loved the entire process of knowing your body, what you liked and what you loved. How you liked to be kissed and touched and fucked.

He studied your body like his fucking life depended on it and you let him. You let him own your body because you needed someone to. You needed to feel something, wanted to have a purpose even for just a short while, even if it meant being someone's fuck buddy.

You felt lost for the longest time, but as you laid on Frank's bed with his tongue lapping up your cunt, you actually felt like you belonged somewhere.

-

You weren't a booty call, definitely not. And when things escalated between the both of you, Frank was already single and had broken off with his recent girlfriend, Daphne. You weren't a doormat nor a side chick. Frank had been your friend for the longest time, one of your closest actually. He knew you the best and not just physically. Frank knew the darkest parts of you the same way you knew him like the back of your hand. He was the most open to you, he said so himself.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." he told you one time.

Frank wasn't afraid to show you his true colors; how he wasn't the kind to settle for one or how he would often end up with someone immature or toxic. He himself was toxic and for the most part, you tolerated him.

That was the mistake on your part.

You let him be himself, that's why you held a special place in his heart. Not even his past girlfriends could get rid of you. You were untouchable.

"Are you sure she's fine with us going out?" you asked Frank one time, as the both of you headed to the movies.

He scoffed, "Yeah, don't worry. I already told her you're my best friend. You're off limits." he chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside the cinema.

"You're fine." he reassured again, this time wrapping his arm around your shoulder and then cradling your head playfully.

-

Looking back, you sometimes ponder whether the friendship was really platonic. You were sure of it when the both of you first became friends; he was a couple of years older than you. You sort of looked up to him like an older brother for the first few years of your relationship. And he was very caring too, always looking out for you.

Your other friends were the first one to notice the closeness. They often told you that Frank seemed to have a thing for you. You brushed it off though, saying that it was impossible.

His girlfriend then was an acquaintance of yours. She was nice and wasn't bothered by how Frank was affectionate towards you.

Indeed, you were untouchable. You were the best friend after all.

-

"We fought again."

You rolled your eyes at Frank as he sat across from you at a local coffee shop near your place. It was your birthday and as always, you spent the most part of it with Frank.

It was like a tradition already, to celebrate your birthday with Frank first before you went out with your friends. Or even family. It was that kind of friendship.

"I'm sorry but who are we talking about again?" you joked.

Frank made a face, "Daphne." he responded. "I just told you about her like, two days ago."

You snickered, "I was kidding. But honestly though, you have to stop flirting with other girls. It's been really difficult for me to keep track of your record, Frank. And are you and Daphne even official?" you asked, taking a sip from your cold brew.

He rubbed his chin and shrugged, "Sorta. Well, we were official two weeks ago. Now though, I'm not so sure. Here's the thing, Daphne can be really..." he said, trying to search for the right words.

You hummed and shook your head, "Immature?" you said and mindlessly scrolled through your phone.

"You should really stop dating girls who are immature, Frank. I swear to god, this is like...I don't know, the fifth time you dated someone like her? Why don't you settle for someone who actually acts her age?" you blurted out.

Frank groaned and transferred to the seat next to you, his body facing yours and his hand landing on your thigh. You didn't mind, didn't think it was too touchy or intimate for someone who was in a relationship. It was pretty common for Frank to be this touchy with you anyway, you never paid much attention to it nor given it any malice.

"We fought because of you actually." Frank admitted with an apologetic smile.

Your head snapped towards him, a scowl etched on your face. "What did I do?!" you asked in defense.

"It was my fault. Daph saw your photo inside my wallet." he said.

"You should really throw away that photo. Jesus, why do you still have it anyway?" you complained.

Frank scoffed, "That's my favorite photo of you. I don't wanna get rid of it."

That was the last day that you considered your friendship with Frank platonic.

-

Come over

I miss u xoxo

Miss eating u out

Miss ur moans, wanna hear them again

You groaned at the continuous notifications that flooded your phone. While you were at work. After that first night with Frank, he had gotten extra clingy. No lies though, it felt nice to be wanted like this.

im free nxt Sat

Yay

Cant wait to see u, missed u a lot

dude, we were at the mall together just last wk

U really dont get attached do u?

Frowning at Frank's reply, you honestly didn't understand what he was implying.

what u mean?

Nothing

Work kept you busy for the entire week, with Frank bombarding you with sweet texts. You've avoided being sweet with him, it felt wrong. You weren't an affectionate person but Frank was, it was sort of one-sided. It wasn't a big deal anyway.

No one from the rest of your friends knew what had become of your friendship with Frank. You just thought it wasn't something that should be revealed. It was like your and Frank's little secret. You had to admit, the thrill only made the sex better.

Whenever the both of you went out with other people, the tension was there and it was fun. It was fun trying to brush off the way Frank's hand would steal touches from your waist, or how he'd subtly squeeze your thigh. The looks you exchanged from across the room; how Frank's "fuck me" eyes were meant for you and only you.

Things like that made you feel a certain type of way. But you never dwelled on it, or at least, you thought you didn't.

-

"Yeah, fuck...just like that, baby."

Frank's fingers dug deeply into the skin of your ass as he guided your hips. You gripped onto the back of the couch as you bounced on his cock, head thrown back from pleasure as Frank suckled one of your nipples. You could feel each of his fingers pressing down against your skin, it's probably going to leave bruises again.

"Frank, shit. I'm close." you panted against the skin of his neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Frank grunted and took your face in between his palms, forcing you to look at him as he began to thrust his hips upwards, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you.

"Wanted to see you like this ever since." he breathed out, pressing his lips against your open mouth.

"Wanted you since we met, d'you know that?" he asked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so he could nibble on your throat.

You shook your head and gripped his shoulders, nails scratching at his skin as you continued to ride his cock, "God, Frank...so close." you moaned.

You felt Frank's lips curl into a smirk against your neck, his fingers gripping your hair to keep you in place as his other hand slipped in between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it to help you reach your climax.

Every single time he touched you, you felt like your entire body was on fire. You felt the most alive, the most free whenever Frank fucked you. Maybe because he was truly gifted in bed or maybe he just knew your body and how to make it sing.

Or maybe it was because of the way he looked at you whenever you fall apart for him. Like he only had eyes for you, like it was only you that he could see.

Sweaty bodies and hoarse voices, the smell of smoke and sex lingering in the air. It was such a familiar ambiance by now. You liked how the aftermath of fucking Frank was never awkward, if any, it was a comfortable experience with the both of you just talking casually about how each other's day went.

"So I'm talking to this girl..." Frank said, turning you around so he could spoon you. Oh, the irony of the intimacy and conversation.

"Where'd you meet this girl?" you asked.

"Tinder." Frank snorted before pressing a kiss on your nape. "No, but she's different. I don't know, there's something about her."

You merely hummed in response.

"Think I might ask her out."

The first sting. The first realization. The first denial.

You should've said no. You should've known better.

-

The art exhibit wasn't a flop, but you wouldn't call it a success either. When you got a call from the organizer asking whether they can include your paintings in the exhibit, you said yes instantly. What can you say? You were a struggling artist who was seeking validation.

But now that you stood in front of your works with barely ten people attending the one-day exhibit, you thought that this wasn't a validation. It felt like a wake up call that maybe, art wasn't your calling and that you should probably give up on your dream.

"These are amazing."

You were on the verge of breaking down when you heard his voice. Turning around, you were surprised to see Frank. He was nodding his head as he approached you, his eyes scanning each of your painting.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work." you asked.

Frank gave you a face, "Did you really think I'd miss out on your first exhibit?" he said and pulled you into a warm embrace.

"I'm proud of you." he whispered before kissing the crown of your head.

One validation from Frank was all it took for the walls to crumble down. He was the one who had been there for you all along and that was why you completely trusted him.

Frank will never hurt you, he'll never bring you down.

Or so you thought.

-

"Do you love me?"

It was a question that was supposed to make you think. But you didn't, because even before Frank decided to ask you that, you already had your answer.

You knew your answer for the longest time now, but decided to lock it into a box that you kept in the deepest part of your heart. It remained there unbothered and almost forgotten, up until this point.

That's why it was so easy for you to respond to it without even batting an eye.

"Yes."

It was too late when you realized that you had just admitted that you were in love with Frank. But you felt like it was the right time for you to bring out the key to that box, open it and just set your truth free.

They said that the truth will set you free, but why does it feel like it only imprisoned you?

"Shit, I was kidding." Frank said, his face panicked and body stiff from your unexpected admission.

Before you could even say something, Frank let out a nervous laugh as he ran his hand through his locks. "Wow, I didn't...are you serious?" he asked again.

It took you everything to brush off the pain, "Yeah, but it's no big deal. Come on." you shook your head and forced out a breathy chuckle.

Frank heaved out a deep sigh, "Fuck, I was messing with you. Are you sure it's fine? I mean, would this change anything?" he asked.

You deadpanned, "No, Frank. It wouldn't change anything. Like I said, get over it. It's not like I'm in love with you. I just love you...if that makes sense? You're my friend." you explained, more like lied.

"Look, it's not like I'm unattracted to you. I like you, I like spending time with you. It's just that I sort of don't see myself committing to you."

It didn't sink in to you immediately, Frank's statement. You didn't pay it any mind because again, you knew Frank. He wasn't one to commit so that was fine, you understand where he was coming from. It's not like you were going to force yourself on him too. But then you accidentally glanced at his phone and saw the messages he'd been exchanging with a certain someone.

When r u coming home?

In a little while, Daph

That night, Frank's statement hit you like a ton of bricks but again, you chose to deny what you actually felt. It's fine.

You're fine.

-

You should've said no. You should've known better.

Those words rang in your ears on the day that you found out. Your body turned cold, your vision blurred and your head spun. You'd never experienced hurt and anger like this, the kind that consumed you.

The kind that made you realized and admit that fuck, you'd truly fallen for Frank only for him to break your heart.

It didn't help that you were having such a terrible day at work. And Frank was so sweet to ask you whether you wanted to meet up with him. Not for sex, but to talk. The sex came rarely recently and was replaced with wholesome trips to the grocery, shit like that.

You knew there was something special going on. Even after he told you that he didn't see himself being with you, there was something.

Apparently, that something was just an assumption. Because when you asked Frank to meet you up that night, he said he couldn't and needed to be somewhere. That he'd meet with you the next day instead, a promise.

But then you saw him post a photo of him and Daphne. And it made your blood boil.

u back together?

No. Not really, been trying to fix it but u know how it is.

if ur trying to fix it with her then im out, frank

Wait what? Hey, are u mad?

r u fucking serious? u knew i love u and u come here parading ur ex, what the fuck is that all abt?

Shit, hey. Look, let's talk later, okay? Im out, will txt u when Im free.

Frank didn't text you back for the rest of the day.

-

You should've said no. You should've known better. But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

Were you regretting it? Yes. Sometimes.

You didn't know which hurt the most, the fact that Frank kept you in the dark while he was trying to patch things up with his ex, or that he considered you his best friend and still chose to break your heart.

He knew you the best, your relationship and trust issues and out of all the people, he really had to be the one to fuck you up the most. You trusted him so much, trusted him not to hurt you. Hell, if he doesn't want to commit then that's fine. But for him to treat you like a second option? Fuck that.

For him to confuse you with his actions, the intimacy...were all of those even real? All the times he came to your support when you had no one, when he was there for you on days you felt alone. What were those? He made you feel so fucking special, like it was possible to actually turn the friendship into something more than just fucking.

All this time you thought it was one-sided because you never actually showed Frank how much you meant to him the same way he did to you. Turned out that it was one-sided, but only because you were the only one who fell.

The following day, you received a voicemail from Frank. You pondered whether you were ready to listen to it but at the same time, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was pretty stupid, he fucked you up and there was no excuse for that. But the friendship you had with him had a strong hold on you.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. That was my mistake." he started off. "I thought that this was really just sex and having fun, but I want you to know that I like you. I really do, you're special to me. Please give me a chance to make things right. Daph and I...I want to end things with her. Please stay, I don't know what I'd do without you."

“I just didn’t expect that you’d end up falling for me, I mean shit. You know the real me, how fucked up I am when it comes to relationships. Just please...please stay?”

Did you stay? Sort of. But you kept your distance, didn't meet up with Frank after that and only responded to his texts occasionally. Did he end things with Daph?

He didn't.

He said he would but instead, they got back together.

It was fucking selfish of Frank to ask for you to stay only for him to get back together with his ex. It'd be better for him to just slap you in the face then.

Being told that he couldn't see himself committing to you but then going back with his ex was the cherry on top. God, if that didn't mess up with your self-worth.

You totally stopped talking to Frank, ignored his texts and calls. You stayed away from him, tried to get over him and eventually, you did. But you'd be lying if you said that he never left an effect on you. Because he did, Frank did a number on you and it would take you a long fucking time to completely recover from the damage he inflicted on you.

You should've said no. You should've known better. But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

And that's okay, because there's nothing wrong with taking risks and ending up in heartbreak.

You live, you love and you learn.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii​ @jessou893​ @stealapizzamyheart​ @bagelofthelord​ @mxnt​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky​ @ohladymacbeth​ @wildflowergubler​ @supraveng​ @twinerd14​ @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3​ @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm​ @charminivy​ @amelia-song-pond​ @iamvalentinaconstanza​ @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine​ @sipsteacasually​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin​ @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @thatfangirl42​ @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24​ @sugarpunch-princess​ @enlyume​ @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp​ @lyoongx​ @just-deka​ @nobody-will​ @jaziona92 @elisebuitron​ @dpaccione​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x​ @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts​ @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

//

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

//

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

//

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

//

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

//

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now.   So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together.  Is he doing alright?  You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people.  “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted.  “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again.  “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger.  “I mean, sapphires?  Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. 

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked.  “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too.  She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.  

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder.  “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat.  Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it.  "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen.  But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard.  "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide.  "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really.  I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up.  "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you.  "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

[lokiskitten]

Hey! I wanted to make a request to Loki consoling the reader after a bad day or because she was unsure of her body.

(I'm sorry if there is something wrong, I'm Brazilian and I'm using the translator! lol)

Loki Laufeyson | pretty little thing

( Thor 2011 ) Loki x fem!reader

author’s note : hey! I’m pretty sure I can work something out ;) I hope you’ll enjoy it!

plot : you encounter Loki into the great hall after a long day of work, and the boy tries his best to make you feel better about yourself and your body.

warnings : super duper cute baby loki !1!1!1

Fitting into Asgard’s society turned out to be harder than you thought, and that no matter how much efforts you decided to put on display alongside the help of your fellow Asgardian mates. This was a process every single teenager who had grown in Odin’s court had to go through, which was absolutely necessary if you wished to remain part of the king’s close surroundings. But through time, you couldn’t help but start to think that you maybe didn’t belong in this place. Luxury and good manners wasn’t something you were particularly looking forward to, as you had always believed that it was simply too boring for your eccentric self.

As the group was making its way back to the chambers, you jumped on the opportunity in order to discreetly gain the balconies where you knew you’d be able to find a nice moment of rest. The cold air collided with your skin, making your hair fly back at a rather soothing pace. Your elbows reached out for the balcony’s barrier, body leaning against the fence as your eyelids shut close in an attempt to seek for peace. The silence remained extremely enjoyable until a familiar voice smoothly resonated through your ear. Your eyelids opened again, head tilting to the side as your orbs landed onto the familiar silhouette which was Loki’s, one of odin’s sons.

“Seeking for an escape?” He questioned, his body slowly nearing you as if he was afraid that he would accidentally scare you off. His green eyes pierced right into yours, head tilting lightly as he waited for an answer. A smile appeared on your lips, head nodding as you allowed your body to twist towards him. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.” You responded before focusing your eyesight onto the beautiful Asgardian horizon again. Just like you, Loki leant against the barrier as his green orbs scanned the landscapes. Though, the usually talkative young man couldn’t help but start conversing again.

“I can sense that something is bothering you.” He notified, head tilting towards your silhouette which he couldn’t cease to admire. A sigh escaped your lips, surprised that a man such as Loki would care about the way you felt. You knew about his reputation, though you had never seemed to figure out why people would make such a big deal out of who he was. To you, he seemed nice and soothing. “It’s nothing really. Just girly bothers.” You explained, which actually made him chuckle. Loki couldn’t help but think that it was ridiculous for you to get upset over such things if it was the case.

“What? It’s true.” You added face to how he wasn’t taking your secretive problems seriously. His brows raised innocently, head shaking from left to right in a denying manner. “I never said it wasn’t.” Loki responded calmly, gentle smile forming onto his lips. “Now, tell me more about it.” The raven haired man added, looking forward to know more about what was bothering you.

Hearing this question, your chest tightened. It had been a while since anyone worried about your mental health, and you obviously didn’t expect Loki to be the one who would do it first. Looking back towards the beautiful horizon on which the sun was setting, you finally managed to empty your chest from your worries. “It’s going to sound stupid, but.. I don’t feel like I’m fitting here. Everyone is so beautiful, so successful, and I can’t help but think that I’m never going to manage to be as a wonderful as them all.” You explained, stomach tightening as you apprehended Loki’s answer.

The young man felt shocked to hear that you both shared the same sorrow, which consisted in fear of failure and sadness face to the fact that you didn’t necessarily fit in. His head nodded, waiting for you to be done talking so that he could add his personal comment to the discussion. “Well.. I’ve seen you in action. I think you look wonderful. Better than most of those people out there.” He responded respectfully, green orbs scanning your face which he had always admired. A chuckle escaped your lips. “Oh come on, you don’t have to say that.” You replied, face turning towards his in order to make eye contact.

Again, Loki’s eyebrows frowned, the man not being able to understand why you doubted him so much. But after second thoughts, he suddenly remembered about the fact that he was classified as the god of mischief. “I’m only speaking the truth. For once.” Loki affirmed, insisting on creating a form of complicity between the two of you. Your smile faded away, soul strangely acknowledging his little move. “Unfortunately it’s going to take more than that.” You ended up responding, looking away and causing Loki’s heart to fill with sorrow and disappointment.

“Let me guess.. you also feel insecure about the way you look?” Loki stated confidently, though remained far from making fun of you for it. Your eyes widened, your entire being wondering how the demigod had managed to guess about your insecurities. “How would you-“ you began, soon being cut off by Loki’s chuckle. “It’s a classic. Teenage girls and their body, you know? Boys feel it too.” He explained wisely, leaning against the fence with the help of one of his elbows as the rest of his body counted onto this support.

Your eyes rolled to the sky, head shaking gently as you tried your best to keep your attitude face to his annoying confidence. Seeing how you had decided to remain silent, Loki jumped on this occasion to talk a little bit further. “I believe your body looks ravishing. I mean, it’s not like I ever got to see it, but if the occasion showed, I’d be more than grateful to give in..” he purred seductively, earning nothing but a stern look coming from you which clearly stood as a negative answer face to his hidden proposition. Awkwardly, the god of mischief nodded his head before turning back towards the horizon. “Alright, got it.” He spoke lowly whilst rubbing his palms together.

I tried! I’m honestly best at smut no cap LMAO. But it’s nice to write about different stuff once in a while. Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or a request! Love y’all💜

[firehouseonechicago]

Five Times He Almost Kissed You, The One Time He Did || Kelly Severide

Author’s Note: Kelly was super fun to write for. I had one hundred scenarios in my head that I struggled to choose from, but I eventually had to choose one and so here we are. I hope you enjoy, next up is Herrmann. Gif by @baharsahins​

One...

You had only been with Squad 3 for only a few months, and during that time, Kelly had never seen you panic. The two of you might had gotten off on the wrong foot when the two of you first met, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you always kept a level-head during calls, even the very, very stressful ones. You were practically a becon of calming energy, and Kelly couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at the fact that the rest of the squad relied on you to keep them calm and not their own Lieutenant.

But as the two of you became trapped in an apartment complex basement, with a broken water main slowly filling up the incredibly small and cramped space, Kelly watched you break. You pressed yourself as close to the wall as possible, cowering away from the water as it now reached your knees. You were panting frantically, your eyes darting every which way in search of a way out. Kelly called out to you, as you stared down at the water completely petrified. Kelly waded through the water towards you, the water now reaching his waist, and placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“Y/n, look at me!” He shouted, trying to be heard over the rushing water from above. When your eyes met his own, Kelly almost had to do a double take. Your eyes were bloodshot, laden with tears as you descended into a state of pure fear. Kelly tightened his hold on your shoulders “Y/n, focus on me okay? Don’t look at the water, look at me...” He insturcted, as your eyes glazed over with a look of bewilderment “Tell me something that no one else knows about you, something you’ve never told anyone”. He watched as your breathing somewhat steadied, your eyes becoming clearer as you swallowed thickly “I’m scared of drowning”. For a moment, Kelly was confused by your answer before you continued “When I was little my parents owned a lakehouse just a few hours away from the city. I fell in off the wharf and almost drowned, I’ve been terrified of water ever since”.

In that moment, a strange feeling to kiss you surged through Kelly. It was just an idea, to take your mind off of what was happening around you. It was nothing more than that. He didn’t want to see you like this, so scared, and so unlike your usual and bright self. The water had now risen to just below your shoulders, just as the collapsed ceiling above was removed to reveal the concerned faces of Boden, Casey, Herrmann and Mouch. Kelly smiled, turning his gaze back to your form as a relieved sob escaped you. After the two of you had been helped out of the basement, you enveloped Kelly in a tight embrace, whispering a shaky ‘thank you’ over and over again. And he held onto you, assuring you that you were safe.

Two...

Molly’s was very busy that night, and so Kelly kept to himself in one of the booths in the very corner of the room.

There were a lot of faces he didn’t recognise, but there was one that he couldn’t take his eyes off. You stood at the bar, a bright smile on your face as you spoke with Herrmann. Your eyes sparkled, he’d never seen you smile like that before. You just looked so happy. He must have been staring, because he hadn’t noticed that you had suddenly moved into the seat across from him. “Hey, you look a little spaced out. You okay?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Kelly nodded slowly “Yeah I’m good, it’s just been a bit of a rough day that’s all” He replied, his gaze flickering between the half empty beer bottle in his grasp and your form before him. You nodded in agreement, releasing a small hum as you gave him a grin “Tell me about it, the last call wasn’t exactly easy. Especially since we had a run-in with one of the guys we rescued”

Kelly laughed, shaking his head at the memory. There was no explaination as to why he had gotten violent, but he had shoved you quite harshly and pinned you against the side of Truck 81. If Kelly hadn’t stepped in, and hauled that guy away from you with much greater force, the situation would have likely become more complicated. “I wanted to thank you, for what you did today. And I also wanted to say thank you for...for not telling anyone about what happened in that basement a few weeks ago” You whispered shyly, biting your lip somewhat anxiously in embarrassment. Kelly grinned in response, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. After that incident, you and Kelly had gotten closer. He began to confide in you, and talk to you more often. “It’s not my place to tell anybody...” He replied, leaning forward in his seat “but you do have to overcome that fear. If you want to stay on squad you have to-”

“I know, I’m working on it okay? I just...I just can’t...” You trailed off, sighing heavily as your shoulders slumped, your eyes glazing over as memories of the rising water no doubt consumed your mind. That strange feeling surged through him again, that same feeling that made him want to kiss you. He didn’t want to see you like this, completely distant and slightly trembling. It was so unlike you, so far from your usual happy self. And so Kelly leaned over across the table, and gently placed his hand atop yours “How about I help you out, I won’t tell another living soul that you are afraid of water, and I will do whatever I can to help you overcome that fear”.

The smile that appeared on your face caused Kelly’s heart to soar. Your eyes regained their sparkle, and the small laugh that escaped your lips made him feel all the more happier.

Three...

“I’ll have to pass”

“Oh come on Y/n...” Gabby whined, slumping down against the table with a loud groan “just go on one date with this guy please? He seems really into you and I think the two of you would be perfect for each other”. You shook your head, grimacing slightly as you shook your head in response. “I’m really sorry Gabby, but this guy has already sent me a hundred messages which are entirely inappropriate and I just don’t think I should go out with this guy. I know you’re trying to set me up with someone but I just...”

Kelly had tried to stop listening to your conversation hours ago, but he just couldn’t help eavesdropping. He had heard from certain people around the firehouse that Gabby was trying to get you to go on a date with a doctor she had briefly met on one of her trips to the hospital on a call. She had been trying for weeks to get you to go out with him, and every time you had refused. Just the thought of you going out with someone else other than him made Kelly feel incredibly jealous. It was no secret to a few people in the firehouse that Kelly had somehow developed feelings for you, they had suspected a short time after the two of you had been trapped in that flooded basement.

He watched on in silent anger as you once again rejected Gabby’s offer to date some guy she met at Molly’s. What he really wanted to do was to kiss you passionately and to kindly but politely shut Dawson up. You were the only person who seemed to understand him, who was always there for him no matter what tough situation was thrown his way. And so probably against his better judgement, Kelly stood up from his seat and awkwardly approached your table. He stopped short as your eyes quickly moved toward him, a kind smile forming on your face. “Kelly, thank god. How can I help you?” You asked in a slightly exasperated tone, though the joking demenour behind it shone through. His chest suddenly felt tight as a million thoughts raced through his mind. What if you said no? What would he do then? He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he spoke.

“I uh...I was wondering if you would like to um...maybe grab a drink at Molly’s sometime. With me, I was wondering if you would go with me to Molly’s for a-”

“Sure, I’d love to”

Kelly froze, his eyes widening in shock. It took him a moment to comprehend your response, but as soon as he realized that you had said yes, he suddenly felt ecstatic. He nodded excitedly in response, grinning childishly before walking away with a slight skip in his step. His happy demenour made you smile, whilst Gabby just gawked between you and Kelly’s retreating form as she tried to piece together what had just occured.

Four...

“I’m not getting in that pool”

“Why not, the water is lovely. And besides, you promised that you would work on getting over your fear of water”.

You knew that this was a bad idea, you weren’t even sure why you agreed to meet Kelly here in the first place. You hugged your arms close to your frame nervously as you watched Kelly wade through the water, your entire body trembling at the thought of submerging yourself completely beneath the water. Kelly approached the edge of the pool, looking up at you with his signature cheeky yet charming grin. “Come on, just hop in. I’ll be with you every step of the way” He spoke calmly, extending his hand out towards you in sincerity. Stubbournly, you shook your head and backed away from the pool’s edge “No, no way. I’m not getting in there-”

“Y/n if you don’t get over here I will get out and carry you in if I have to” Kelly stated blatantly, half hauling himself out of the pool with a raised eyebrow in emphasis to his words. You glared toward him “Is that a challenge, Severide?”

“That’s a promise, sweetheart”.

The way his voice darkened caused your cheeks to flush a bright pink, but knowing that Kelly would stay true to his word, you reluctantly shuffled over to the edge of the pool and sat down. Kelly grinned triumphantly, submerging himself under the water before resurfacing with a flick of his hair. You rolled your eyes as Kelly chuckled, wading through the water towards you before taking your hands in his own. “I hate you so much” You grumbled, trying so very hard to stop your hands from trembling. Huffing a laugh, Kelly tightened his grip around your hands comfortingly “No you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to go out on that date with me tomorrow night”.

After easing yourself into the water, you practically clung to the man before you as Kelly lead you through the water. Kelly took note of your close proximity, and suddenly found himself becoming increasingly nervous. Your face was just inches away from his own, the temptation to kiss you was becoming way too overwhelming. Yet he composed himself, and focused on the task at hand. It would take some time for you to get over your fear of water, but Kelly was willing to do whatever it took to help you. You were apart of his squad, not to mention the fact that he was deeply in love with you.

Five...

Kelly bounced his leg anxiously as he sat at the bar at Molly’s.

You were due to arrive for your date any second now, and for some unknown reason, Kelly Severide was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He had never felt this nervous before, not even on call. He really wanted this date to go well.

“Would you calm down already?” Herrmann mused from behind the bar, staring at the man before him with a bewildered expression “I’m sure everything is going to be fine, you just need to take a breath, alright”. Kelly turned to face Herrmann with a long and heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned forward against the bar. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous”.

“A little is an understatement my friend...” Herrmann teased, laughing mockingly just as the door to Molly’s opened. Kelly turned, half expecting to see Otis turn up for his shift behind the bar. But he was completely blown away at the sight of you. You wore a short black dress covered in a small red rose pattern, with a black leather jacket over your shoulders. Your hair was swept over your shoulder lazily, unlike at the firehouse when it had been thrown up into a messy ponytail. A cute messy ponytail. When your eyes met his from across the room, you smiled brightly and gave him a small wave as you approached. This was it, this was really happening. God, Kelly didn’t know what to do. You looked so beautiful, the breath was completely knocked out of him.

As you sat down on the seat beside him at the bar, the feeling of wanting to kiss you resurfaced. He was so unbelievably happy that you had agreed to this date, so unbelievably happy that you-

“Hello? Earth to Kelly Severide?” You suddenly interrupted, a teasing tone to your voice as you chuckled at the man before you. Brought back from his stupor, Kelly’s eyes remained frozen on your form. “You look gorgeous” he suddenly blurted, noting the bright redness that spontaniously covered your cheeks. You waved him off dismissively, ordering a light drink from Herrmann as you continued to talk to Kelly. The night was filled with flirtatious banter and the occasional longing glances. It was obvious to anyone that watched that there was obvious chemistry between the two of you, but neither of you cared if people were watching. You were both having fun, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

The one time he did...

“Do you think Shay would mind if I stayed the night? I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink” You mumbled somewhat sheepishly, as you trudged over from the kitchen into the living room where Kelly sat on the couch.

He chuckled, patting the cushion beside him for you to sit down. “Shay is staying over at some girl’s house tonight, so you can stay here as long as you want” He replied, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You hummed in content, snuggling further into him with a small giggle. “Okay good, I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway”.

“Then why ask?” Kelly scoffed, smiling down at you with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes lazily, looking up at him with a cheeky grin “Well I’ve been over enough times, and I haven’t spent the night here yet, so I thought maybe-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Kelly dipped down and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and passionate. Soft even, almost as if he was testing the waters a little. But as soon as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, that was all Kelly needed as a sign to continue. Moving you into a more comfortable position, Kelly hovered above you as he intensified the kiss, before quickly pulling away from you with a teasing smirk. “What do you say we take this upstairs?” He asled quietly, gesturing with his eyes to the ceiling and his bedroom above. You mimicked his expression, somehow managing to slip out from beneath him with an excited laugh. “Gladly!” You called out, before racing up the staircase ahead of him, and leaving Kelly to chase after you with a loud amused laugh.