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riamaple · 3 days ago

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Life on Your Line (Ch. 8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 4.4k

Important Note at the end. Please read!

CHAPTER 8: February 2004 - April 2014

February 18, 2004. 10:10 AM

I have never been more scared in my life until January 18.

I saved James for the 8th time, but I almost failed.

I did fail. He stopped me when I was trying to save him and he got stabbed in the stomach. He

The page was littered with tears and your pencil slipped from your hand.

You slammed your journal shut and fell back into bed.

<><><>

February 18, 2004. 10:10 AM 6:28 PM

I have never been more scared in my life until January 18.

I saved James for the 8th time, but I almost failed.

I did fail. He stopped me when I was trying to save him and he got stabbed in the stomach. He

It wasn’t my fault. I keep telling myself that. I want to believe that.

But it’s hard to blame someone else when this is all I’ve ever done. I’ve saved hundreds of lives — I’ve been doing this for almost a century. I’ve gotten so good at stopping death from approaching others. To let death say hello to me instead.

I failed before. I’ve allowed myself to let people die before, even when I knew I’d wake up the next day feeling the second worst pain of my life. But the people I failed — I don’t know them. I feel sad, sure, but I stopped hurting deeply for strangers a long time ago.

But James is mine to know and I almost let him die. It’s ridiculous to care this much. I only see him once every decade or so. He never remembers me immediately until now, and he means more to me than I could ever say in words.

And when he’s the only one I’ve been sent to multiple times… I can’t help but think you are telling me something — that James is more than just a person to me. I refuse to let you choose how I feel about him, but you have done your part in letting me be close to him.

You let my family die, but you keep bringing me back to James to save him.

But then I almost let him die.

I know I succeeded in saving him because I woke up with minor pain. My body is sore from blowing up, but I still have the energy to pick up a mug and hold a book — to eat a meal without wanting to collapse to the floor, crying in pain. But that doesn’t change the fact that I almost failed.

He tried to save me. He didn’t want me to get hurt, but in the end, I’ve felt more pain than I ever have in more than 100 years. He held onto me like I was going to die when it was he who was dying.

He cried for me. The dangerous, killer assassin cried for someone like me.

He begged me to leave him and I couldn’t. He told me not to help him and I couldn’t. He told me to run and I couldn’t. Then when he told me not to go, I left.

He wanted me to live. No one has ever wanted that for me. I didn’t even want that for me. For a long time, I didn’t want that because I was so fucking tired. But as long as he’s alive, then I’m alive.

I’m sorry. James, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you. I just don’t have a choice.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

James, I lov

<><><>

February 19, 2004. 8:29 PM

I finally figured out what happened after I died.

Turns out, that tiny little bomb held enough power to knock over the bridge despite me being far away from it. The explosion itself wasn’t enormous, but the shockwave was designed to knock over anything.

So even if James and I managed to get away from the explosion, the buildings around us would’ve fallen on us. Fucking hell.

It managed to knock over a few buildings along the river, but luckily there was no one there since it was the middle of the night and all the stores were closed. That said, the police showed up at the scene immediately to try to figure out what was going on — a bomb did go off. They had the whole area on lockdown and I don’t know if James was caught. In any other case, I would say he escaped, but he was so hurt that I’m not sure if he managed to get away from the cops.

But even if he managed to get away, I want to know if he went back to whoever is controlling him. The man he fought… From what he was saying, it seemed like he also worked for them. What kind of a place is James stuck in? They’re creating terrifying soldiers left and right and it’s horrific. That man was scary but didn’t seem brainwashed like James.

I have to find him. I have to free James no matter what.

<><><>

March 1, 2004. 11:47 PM

I’ve been trying to find newspapers, articles, anything about the “Winter Soldier” and so far there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I had a better job at finding fucked up research papers about electric shock torture and body modifications than this.

After all these years — after every attempt to save him — there’s no way that he’s just...unknown. No one like him could be so invisible. I refuse to believe that.

I can’t just let this go. Not when I’ve saved him so many times. Not when I’m the only one who’s seen him for what he really is — someone who’s been broken, and yet still...fighting.

I’ll find him. I have to.

<><><>

May 2, 2004. 5:19 AM

I had another nightmare about James.

He was dead by the time I got to him. There was blood everywhere, all starting from his stomach and flowing to my feet. His eyes weren’t blue — they were dark and lifeless. I shook his body, screaming at him to wake up, to breathe, but he didn’t move a muscle.

I woke up crying and couldn’t go back to sleep. The nightmare left me with this twisted feeling in my stomach that I can’t get rid of. The thought of him dying is so horrific.

I’ve never been afraid of losing anyone like this before. My family’s death happened quickly — too sudden for me to do anything about it. My family will always be a part of my life but with James… It feels like if I lost him, I’d be losing something that’s become a part of me. Something that I want with me at all times. Something that I need and long for.

It’s been too long since I’ve had someone to deeply care for. To ache and feel the absence of their body in every part of your soul, only to feel warm when they hold you again. We’ve always found each other in the face of death, but this feeling — it’s no longer adrenaline. It’s not panic. It’s something deeper.

It’s lov

You scribbled over the broken phrase as hard as you could.

It’s lov

I don’t know if he feels the same about me when he’s been

You paused, biting your lip as your hand trembled. Then you took a breath.

I don’t know if he feels the same about me when he’s been

I can only assume that he feels the same about me. He protected me — he’s always wanted to do something whenever I died for him. Maybe he doesn’t understand what he feels, but he must feel it.

Maybe I don’t understand what I feel either. Or maybe I do know and I’m afraid to admit it because what happens if I lose him and I

Maybe one day I can meet him without death approaching us, and then we can figure it out together.

<><><>

January 19, 2005. 9:42 PM

I was fucking murdered on January 10.

That hasn’t happened in a really long time. Murdered to save someone else? Yeah, all the time.

Murdered just because? Hell no. Not since 1928.

I noticed these two men lingering around while I was working at the library. I first thought they were just there to read — until I realized they were barely looking at the pages and they both wore matching symbols on their jackets. They kept standing close to me, so obviously I started to worry they were stalkers. I told my manager, and he told them to get the fuck out.

But later that night when I left the library, I saw them again. They followed me. I didn’t want them to know where I lived, so I wandered — stopped by the diner, the bar, anywhere with people. But they kept following me. And eventually, they figured out I knew. Just as I figured out they weren’t random men.

I tried to get away, but then they finally confronted me. They said they were a part of an organization dedicated to the people — whatever that means. Honestly, they felt like two new officers on a power trip, acting way more important than they actually were.

But then they asked me about the Winter Soldier.

I guess the government or whatever they’re a part of caught wind of me trying to research James, but that just surprised me more. It confirmed that James isn’t just a myth. He’s not public knowledge, but someone knows.

I tried to lie, obviously, that I just happened to hear about it and it sounded like a cool conspiracy theory to research about.

They didn’t believe me.

They got more aggressive with their questioning — definitely rookies who saw a file they shouldn’t have and decided to take it into their own hands. God, they reminded me of every dumbass cop on TV.

I wasn’t giving them the answers they wanted. One of them pulled a gun. Classic move — threaten people until they cave. But I wasn’t going to tell them anything about James. Especially not after how they were treating me.

But then he shot me. The bastard actually shot me and had the audacity to yell sorry.

Sorry? You shot me in the fucking chest.

For a rookie, he had amazing aim. Or terrible luck — killing probably the only civilian who knew anything about James. He definitely didn’t mean to. I could tell by how much they panicked.

My body doesn’t disappear from the public’s eyes until someone hides me away — put me in the ground or in the cremator to burn me — but there was no way those two were going to give me a peaceful death. They’d poke at my corpse. Take photos. Run my face through their systems.

So I jumped over the bridge. Good luck trying to find a non-existent body.

I don’t know if you were trying to help me, but I'd like to believe that you did. He shot me right before midnight and I woke up “the next day” right after midnight. My body was screaming and I wanted to just sleep the pain away like I usually would, but I had to escape. They killed me, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t search my apartment, especially since my body was gone.

I gathered every document I had about James, grabbed my journals, and left. I barely made it to Tennessee and I’m currently still recovering. I��m still trying to figure out where to go for the next couple of years and what my next name should be. I’m thinking maybe Pennsylvania and Gwen, but until my body stops hurting, I’m not going anywhere.

I don’t think I can research James anymore without getting caught.

I feel ridiculous for thinking the authorities could help him when they fucking killed me. They’d kill him too or worse, torture him. He’d just go back to where he escaped from.

I’ll go find him myself. Fuck everyone else.

<><><>

November 29, 2006. 8:11 PM

I think I’m going insane.

I saw him today. Or, at least, I thought I did.

I was crossing the street when I noticed someone in the crowd. It was a man, tall with broad shoulders, his face hidden beneath a hat. It could’ve been anybody, but there was something in the way he moved that reminded me of James.

I thought maybe I was just imagining it was him, but then he paused just for a second, like he felt me too. But before I could get a better look at him, a bus drove by and he was gone. I should’ve run after him. I should’ve done something. But I didn’t. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’d find — or what I wouldn’t.

I didn’t realize how much I missed him until now.

I’ve always missed him, but now I’m realizing that I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wondering when he needs me next. Every day I think about him — everything reminds me of him somehow, because I have so many questions.

When I got my coffee today, I wondered if James also liked coffee. Or when I walked by a cute dog, I wondered if James would prefer dogs over cats. Tiny stuff like that.

It could’ve been anyone. It’s probably no one, but for a brief moment, I thought I saw him. Or…at least the ghost of him. Still out there, maybe waiting for me.

I miss him.

<><><>

October 28, 2007. 7:19 AM

I saved a man on September 28 and he didn’t even thank me.

I walked by an alleyway and saw him with a knife against his neck. Felt the pull, went to save him, same old shit. But when the guy who stabbed me ran away, the man I saved took one look at me and ran too.

There was no more threat, and he still ran off. And of course, I got stabbed in the hips. I wasn’t dying quickly, but I couldn’t get up either. There’s never a reason for me to try to save myself, so I didn’t bother to ask for help. But it took so long for me to bleed out and it was painful too.

The man I saved had every opportunity to get help. It wouldn’t have done anything, but damn I didn’t think he’d be shitty enough to leave me to die. Maybe I shouldn’t have saved this one — I’d rather spend a day or two in pure agony than have felt so betrayed that night.

It’s strange. He’s not the first person who was ungrateful for my sacrifice, but it has been a while since someone left me like that. I didn’t expect it to feel so…empty because of it.

Maybe it’s because I know James wouldn’t have left me.

I miss him. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. Maybe he’s been killed and I wasn’t sent to stop it. Or maybe he’s alive and back on missions. Maybe…he’s forgotten about me completely — his mind wiped to the extreme and now he can’t remember me in the slightest.

That won’t stop me from looking for him. Until I get a yes or no on whether he’s alive or not, I will keep on looking. I look for him in crowds because maybe — just maybe — we could meet each other without being in a life-or-death situation. Just like how we met again at that bookstore before he left for the war, only this time I wouldn’t lie. I’d tell him who I am.

Sometimes though, I wish I could stop caring. To stop having so much hope, only to not see him. I miss him and I want him

You stopped, staring at those last three words.

Then you took a soft breath, unable to stop yourself anymore from avoiding the truth.

I miss him and I want him and I want him. I just want him, and it hurts that I can’t.

<><><>

November 1, 2009. 10:10 PM

Sometimes I wonder how much of my life is mine, and how much of it you plan for me.

Because you can’t fucking convince me it’s a coincidence that the Smithsonian opens the Captain America exhibition a month after I move to DC. I knew it was happening, but not that it would open now. I saw a poster about it right outside my apartment complex.

And honestly? About fucking time they made the exhibition.

It was quite large — a lot of history and artifacts to read and stare at. I didn’t mean to stay there for the whole day, but I did. It was partly strange to be reliving some of my life through the exhibition, seeing pictures of Brooklyn in the 40s and the boy Captain America used to be before getting the serum.

Then I saw him.

There was a whole section dedicated to James. It was not the largest, but it definitely caught my attention. There was a plaque with text about his background, written just above his name and how long he lived.

Bucky Barnes.

1917-1944. What a lie.

I sat on the bench across from the plaque for most of the time there — the security guards were confused about me sitting there for hours. I guess I just got lost in his face, listening to people around me say “he was so young” or “he died too soon” when I know he never died in the first place.

There was also a replica of his uniform with the rest of the Howling Commandos. I stared at that for a long time — whoever remade it did an excellent job because it looked exactly the same as what he was wearing when I saved him. When he held me in his arms, whispering my favorite name in the world.

It reminded me of a simpler time.

Then there was the video.

There was this video of him with Captain America. It was on loop and the quality was what you’d expect from a film in the 40s, but that didn’t stop me from seeing him laugh.

I’ve never seen him laugh before. I saw him smile back in Brooklyn and heard him laugh with his sister, but never actually saw it until now. He’s cute

It was…wonderful. Wonderful to see him laugh as the man who hadn’t lost everything just yet.

I couldn’t help but wonder what James would look like now if he laughed. Or if he still has a reason to laugh.

I’d like to think that the poster right outside my apartment was a sign to me that James is still alive because now, I feel more determined and hopeful to find him.

I will see him laugh.

<><><>

October 12, 2011. 2:28 PM

I almost had a heart attack today when I read the news. Well, more like I almost choked on my baked potato, but it’s just as dangerous.

They found Captain America. He’s alive.

They dug him out of the ice a few days ago and he woke up, perfectly healthy. He didn’t age a single bit. I know that feeling too well.

I can’t imagine how overwhelmed he must be seeing New York now. A lot has changed for the better or worse. There’s so much for him to catch up on now. I wonder if he has any family or friends left from the 40s who could help him adapt to this new world we’re in.

I wonder if he would recognize me like James did.

James. That’s a whole other story.

He doesn’t know that James has been around this whole time. God, what do I do? Am I even supposed to do something? If I tell him, then the authorities would know too, and I’d have to share who I am…but will I be safe? After everything, would I be treated with dignity or like shit?

I don’t really trust the government and I’m not sure if Captain America should either.

<><><>

May 4, 2012. 11:10 PM

Gods are real and aliens are real.

Fucking what.

There was an alien invasion led by a Norse god in New York today. I thought I’d seen everything after being alive for more than 100 years, but apparently, you like to keep me on my toes.

I was — maybe selfishly — grateful that I was nowhere near New York today because I definitely would’ve died for someone else. Instead, I got to sit at home and watch the battle unfold on my TV and it felt like I was watching a film.

Everything felt fictional.

But no, aliens exist and gods walk amongst us.

I wonder if there’s a weird cosmic being out there who could explain to me what my curse is then.

Despite watching insanity happen on the screen, I did see a lot of familiar faces. Iron Man was back in action and the Hulk suddenly reappeared — who knows where that guy went all this time?

And then there he was. Captain America. Saving the day after only being awake for 7 months. What a hero.

I feel bad for him — waking up decades later to find that his loved ones have grown up or passed away. Thrown into a brand new world and expected to conform to our fucked up society. Brought into another fight before he could even process everything.

I won’t lie… I have thought about going to see Captain America. I don’t know what exactly I’d do, but I am curious to see if he’d recognize me like James did. Especially considering that he’d been asleep this whole time, so for him…he saw me only 10 years ago.

If he recognized me, then I could tell him about James — that there are 2 people who know him from the 40s. Or, I guess that James KNEW him with his memory being

And maybe…if I can’t do it, then Captain America could be the one to save James.

<><><>

September 19, 2012. 11:06 PM

I feel pathetic.

I saw Steve Rogers today and I couldn’t say hello.

He was roaming around with a couple of agents, trying to find someone or something. I saw him from afar and suddenly felt the urge to tell him — to say James needs help.

But when I got close, I saw the symbol on the agents’ uniforms. It was the same symbol I saw before that rookie agent shot me in the chest.

Of course, Steve is working with them.

I stood there like a deer in headlights until one of the agents looked at me. I turned away so Steve didn’t see me, but I saw how comfortable he looked. It was like he belonged with them as if he wasn’t once a man from the 40s — a boy who brought his sick mother a balloon.

He could probably help get James out, but I couldn’t risk it. I don’t know what side those people are on, and I am not about to get James killed because of my mistake again. But there’s still a part of me that hopes that behind all that protocol and “doing the right thing,” there was still the man who adored James and followed him into the fire, as Becca had described him.

He could be the hero that James needs.

And me?

I’m pathetic. Selfish, even, to have walked away from Steve because I was too scared. Scared of what those agents might do to me if they found out about my curse — that I could die again and again and come back with no scars or bruises. They could turn me into a weapon, just like how James was by whoever is controlling him.

James is in pain and I’m too scared to talk to Steve.

I feel worthless.

<><><>

March 20, 2014. 9:06 AM

I saved a teenager on February 20 and I woke up wondering if my bones were intact.

She was on a field trip with her class and I was walking past them when I felt the pull. I looked and saw that she had fallen behind because she just tied her shoelaces, but I saw the bus coming towards her. I ran and pushed her out of the way as the bus went onto the sidewalk.

I’ve been hit by cars, minivans, motorcycles, you name it. But none of them are as bad as getting hit by a bus. I definitely didn’t miss that experience.

Saving her wasn’t smooth — it wasn’t like those scenes in the movies where the hero grabs someone and rolls to safety. I pushed her out of the way just in time before I fell onto the grass, made up of broken bones and blood. People were screaming and calling for help, but the teenager stayed with me.

It felt familiar.

I have died in a vehicular accident so many times, but this felt like when I saved James for the 1st time.

She was crying and telling me to stay awake, but I was only able to smile at her before my vision went dark.

I did see her name tag. Her name is Mandy.

I checked the news this morning and found out that the news didn’t report on my death. It was just another accident in the city to them. But it wasn’t discreet enough for me — the crowd saw me die and Mandy definitely got a good look at my face.

So…it’s time to move. Again. Disappear before someone has the chance to ask why a dead person is suddenly walking around again.

That’s never happened — no one recognizes me — but there is always the chance and I’m not willing to risk it.

But it’s getting harder to keep running. I really liked DC and I felt like I was starting to feel settled for once in my life…but you like to make sure I never feel a true sense of belonging.

Time to look for another apartment somewhere.

<><><>

April 5, 2014. 12:20 AM

I saved James for the 9th time on March 5, and I got to say goodbye.

NEXT CHAPTER >

IMPORTANT NOTE, PLEASE READ:

Part 1 of this story will be 11 chapters long, and then I’ll be taking a ~3 week hiatus because I’m actually finishing my Master’s degree right now! Considering this was originally a short story, I thought I’d finish writing this way before my schedule got insane, but nope! So I’ll be taking some time to graduate + write ahead for the next 2 parts.

Chapter 10 and Chapter 11 (Epilogue of Part 1) will be out on May 3, so Thunderbolts* will feed us Bucky content while I finish my degree!

Thank you to everyone who’s been reading along!

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky

Thanks for reading :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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tgirldisaster · 3 days ago

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@bowlbird bc ur fucking gongeous amd i lov you

trans girls will be like "i'm not really that cute tbh" and send pics and she looks like an angel

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noodlesoup1819 · 2 days ago

Note

give me one simple step to saving super villains :)

This one's full title is One simple step to saving supervillains (Give them a little sister!) and it's an mha fanfic.

I was feeling super disappointed with how mha's ending treated the lov and I wanted to give them a happy ending, so this concept was born.

During the overhaul arc, Toga and Twice find Eri and kidnap (read: adopt) her during the raid. She breaks down the walls around the hearts of the league and they slowly but surely end up doing less and less actual villainy and more "giving this abused child the happy childhood none of us got to have".

snippet:

“You two idiots did what?!” Sometimes (only sometimes) Shigaraki wonders if this is how Kurogiri felt at times during his upbringing. The man never emoted, but still, he wonders. “We stole a child!” came the simultaneous reply. That much was obvious. A little girl with white hair, dressed in a thin nightgown, and wrapped with bandages was clinging to Twice in the back of their stolen transport truck. “Why did you steal a child??” “She was sad!” “Hey uh-” Spinner started before the truck jerked to the side and the sirens behind them got louder. “We’ve got company! I don’t think now’s the time for this!” “Quit swerving lizard! I get car sick!” came Dabi’s harsh bark. “It’s Spinner! And you got a problem with my driving, huh?!” came the instant reply. “Quite fighting you idiots!” Shigaraki interrupted. “And you two! Why do you think we have heroes on our tail?! Do you think it could possibly be the fact that you’ve stolen a child?!” Those idiots! They weren’t heroes! They didn’t save people! And now they not only have the police van that they were expecting behind them, but they also had a team of heroes that weren’t hurt in the overhaul battle on their tails! Kurogiri was arrested! They didn’t have a way out! His fingernails dug into his neck. He needed to think! A small hand gripped his sleeve. “I’m sorry! … It- it’s okay…You can- you can give me back if you need to.” There was a big sniffle and the hand gripping him started shaking slightly. “I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna get anyone in tr-trouble… I’m sorry!” She glanced up at him with big wet eyes, looking totally prepared to go back to the hell she’d just been taken from. “I’m sorry papa! I won’t do it again! I’m sorry! Don’t put me back out there!” What a strange memory… Shigaraki could feel little cracks forming in the stone around his heart. Fuck. ------ A little hand brushing against the scars on his arms startled Dabi out of his half doze. It had taken a monumental effort to get Eri away from the heroes and police. Sue him for taking a little nap once they got back to their current base. “Whatcha doin’ kiddo?” Dabi asked, peaking an eye open. “Do yours hurt?” Eri didn’t seem keen on stopping. “What do ya mean kid?” “Your marks? Do they hurt like mine?” ‘Like mine’? Dabi sat up. “You have scars? And they hurt?” A little nod.

“Wanna show me?” Little arms covered in bandages were thrust in front of him. “Can I unwrap these? I won’t if you don’t want me to.” Another nod. Dabi gently grabbed her wrist, teeny in his palm, and began undoing the bandage on her right arm. Each turn made him wish they did worse than just decay the bastard’s arms off. Lines upon lines of precise incisions all the way from her wrist to her shoulder scared over. It made Dabi sick. “Do yours hurt” She asked again. “Sometimes. Not always. I’m pretty used to it by now. Yours hurt?” “Mhm. Not all the time, like yours, but still sometimes.” Dabi noticed Eri had begun shivering slightly and started rewrapping her arm. “You cold?” Even though it was late summer, it could get a little drafty in the concrete building the league had temporarily claimed as home. And Eri wasn’t wearing much more than a nightgown.

“A little.” “Come ’ere then.” Eri crawled into his open arms as he laid back and tucked his jacket around her. “Touya-nii-chan! I’m cold! Lemme in your futon!” Natsuo whined as he shook him awake. “Fineee! Come ‘ere then.” Natsuo crawled into his futon as Touya laid back and tucked the blankets around them. Dabi let Eri’s soft breathing and gentle weight lull him back into a doze.

I love how what I've written for this has turned out! Everything's flowed together really well, even with the alternating POVs. I've wanted to post what I've had written for a while now (that's why you get a sneak peak of two parts instead of one), but I think it will work better as a long one-shot. Hopefully I'll get the rest of it written one day, because I really do love it.

Thanks so much for the ask!! 💖

#my writing #ask game #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #lov #league of villains #eri #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya

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vicolette · 2 days ago

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Last Message ! (Part two of 'Cold Bed !')

– A/N : idk what will happen with the last fic but let's js ignore it for now...

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, mentions of y/n & pet names, angst with happy ending, reader wears makeup, curse words, mentions of insecurities, mentions of god(?), not proofread

'Y/n, please.'

The message got you staring at it for longer than you ever would want to admit, seeing how he was still online all this time. You wondered when his battery would run out, or if he was charging it during all this time.

Truth be told, you had wanted him to call you all week long already, knowing that you looked like an absolute mess under all the makeup that you wore in order to hide your imperfections – which fans have pointed out.

Of course. Of course, it were fans (or rather haters) that zoomed in into your face and commented about the most random things, whether it was about your appearance or the stuff that you liked or your posts or-

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you tried to calm down, leaning against the counter as you wanted just a simple glass of water to relax, but even after hours of the call, you still couldn’t get over it, over the way he so clearly sounded desperate for your love.

Just then, while he typed in another message, you accidentally pressed a random letter, which gave him the signal that you were also typing and abruptly stopped, waiting for your answer. You would have laughed at how he was acting, if it wasn’t for the fact that you would have done the same.

Would it be a smart decision to write an actual response to his questions, to his sorrow, or should you just let him go? Would the hurt and misery that you have felt all the time be worth it, be worth the little and big moments that you have been able to share with Hector?

The answer, you didn’t know. But you knew one thing – you wanted him back.

It didn’t even ring once when you 'by accident' placed your thumb on the call button, hearing his breathing which was still quieter than the faint hum of your fridge. Neither of you spoke for a second, yet Hector could hear how you wrapped an arm around your waist to secure yourself somehow.

"My love." His voice had despair within it and, if you listened a bit more carefully, you could hear how sounded like he had cried. However, he gave you no time to think and was fast to continue. "I know how it is for you."

As you parted your lips to say something, you threw your head back and looked up at the ceiling, narrowing your eyes as you thought of the things to say. Hector was a honest guy – even if he was sarcastic at times, he expressed his concerns with you within the relationship.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t, just because the insecurities were eating you alive and you didn’t want to burden him, instead opting to suffer in silence.

"I-I never experienced it, I have to admit, but…" Hesitation lingered in the air, yet his voice brought you a feeling of peace. The irony in your feelings was absurd, yet you took a deep breath and listened.

"For you, Y/n, I would do anything."

"Hector, can you-" You could feel new tears arriving, as if it was a natural thing for you to cry once you were the slightest bit overwhelmed, which you somewhat managed to suppress when you were together with him. "Can you give me a minute to think?"

"Of course. As long as you want to."

Afterwards, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, feeling how shaky your hand was, yet you shook your head and swallowed your pride, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought. Every hate comments, every thought, every emotion that you felt – they all came back.

"I was stupid." You admitted. "I should've just told you, but instead, I was being a coward and it’s… it’s my fault."

Hector wanted to disagree, to say that it was his mistake for not noticing how distant you have become until it was too late, but you beat him to it and continued. "Even so, I love you. Like, really, really love you and I wanna spend my life with you."

And you truly did. You wanted to be at every single match of his, wanted to spend late nights with him, wanted to kiss him relentlessly until you both were out of breath.

"I wanna communicate with you properly this time, not hide around anymore." You were quite surprised by how mature you sounded, when just two weeks ago, you were breaking up for not feeling mature enough to give him the perfect girlfriend.

However, you knew that nobody was perfect, you knew that everyone does mistakes, so you were willing to try again. Hector was thinking, waiting for an answer to appear in his mind, yet he merely smiled.

"Thank god." He was out of breath, chuckling for the first time in a long while as it sounded like he stood up and rushed to get something.

And then, before you knew it, you could hear the noise of him muttering words under his breath, taking something before you heard keys rattle.

"Can we talk face to face? Please?" You huffed a laugh at his question, feeling touched by how genuine he was being, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had returned to asking dumb questions.

"Alright, the door will be open." A low 'yes!' was audible from the other side of the phone, before you heard him stop moving. He seemed to be realizing something, which made you raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Don’t you need your beauty sleep?"

"Oh my god, just come here already!"

– A/N : I listened to 'House of Cards' on repeat while writing

#hector fort #hector fort oneshot #hector fort x you #hector fort x y/n #hector fort imagine #hector fort x reader #fc barcelona #football #fc barca #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #footballer #angst with a happy ending #yeah idk

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kruegerspillow · 5 months ago

Text

accidentally finding out that simon riley is ticklish during sex, though the way he reacted wasn't too... expected. buuuuut it's not like you hated the outcome you got from him <3

MINORS DNI. NSFW BENEATH THE CUT!

Simon's hands roamed around your body, taking in every curve as you squirmed helplessly on his lap. Your hands gripped on his shoulders, seeking more friction as you grinded down against his clothed crotch. Simon's hips stuttered in response to your move.

"So fuckin' needy, aren't ya?" Simon groaned out, his voice low and filled with desperation.

You huffed in response, nearly rolling your eyes at his words before your hands made their way to the hem of his shirt. Simon grunted, helping you lift his shirt up.

"Simon... Need'ya so bad. I need to feel you, please..." You pleaded.

And before you knew it, he was knuckles deep into your cunt. His thick fingers curled inside you, feeling the way your pussy clenched hungrily around his digits. Simon laughed softly out of amusement, watching the way you arched your back. Your hands shot up to his shoulders, seeking balance.

"I got ya, don't worry, yeah? 'm here for ya, lovie." He whispered soothingly.

"Simon, I'm gonna..."

"Fuck, yeah? Let go f'me, c'mon, give yourself in."

You nearly whined at his words, feeling yourself tipping over the edge as his fingers worked faster. Tears swelled up in your eyes before you squeezed them shut, feeling yourself squirt all over him, leaving your juices dripping down his lower abdomen.

Simon watched quietly, slowing down the pace as he felt you slump against his chest, your arms falling back to your sides. His free hand wrapped around your waist, a silent gesture of protection.

"Fuuuck, would ya take a look at the mess ya made? Look at tha' sweet'eart." He mumbled softly, looking down at the mess on his stomach.

Your vision blurred as you glanced at the mess, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarassment. Fuck, your mind felt hazy. The orgasm hit you harder than a brick, and you knew only Simon could leave this effect on you.

And, as soon as you gathered your composure, your hands went back to his chest. Simon's eyes softened at the sight of you, watching as you undo his belt. You swiftly threw his belt aside, propping yourself on top of him before looking up at him. Simon got the signal and lifted his hips up, gaze piercing as you pulled his pants down.

There was a small stain on his boxers already, having leaked precum ever since he buried his fingers into your puffy cunt. Simon groaned as you pulled his boxers down, the cold air hitting his painfully hard cock.

"Wait, sweet'eart—"

You slammed down on his cock, feeling him twitch inside you before he arched his back off of the couch. His breath hitched as you watched him tremble beneath you. He groaned out in response, throwing his head back onto the couch before his hands shot up to your waist; making sure you don't lose balance.

"Simon, I— fuck I cant help it, need... need you inside me..." You slurred out, tripping over your own words.

Simon's chest rose up and down, trying to catch his breath before he lifted his head up. His gaze met yours, all hazy and fucked out of his mind. Your hands stayed on his chest for a moment, before you slowly ran your fingers down.

"Christ, you feel fuckin' heavenly, I— fuckin' 'ell..."

Simon shivered beneath you, letting out a shaky breath as he watched your hand skillfully caress the roughness of his skin. Your fingers softly traced over his scars, feeling the way he jerks every once in a while. Once your hands reached his abdomen, you slowly traced the sides of his waist.

"Not there sweet'eart, I—" The words caught in his throat as you continued teasing his waist.

A small, nervous laugh left his lips as one of his hands shot up to your wrist, trying to get your hands off of his waist. You noticed it. The way his cheeks heated up whenever your hands roamed around his waist, the way he seemed to hold the small laughter that threatened to come out of his mouth. He's ticklish.

"Bloody 'ell, not— not there," he paused for a moment. "Don't play these kind of games on me, love, fuck please." He begged softly, his cock hardening inside you.

And, that's when you felt it.

His hips stuttered before he cummed inside you, merely because of a simple touch. A small wheeze left his lips, feeling himself come undone just like that. Your eyes widened as you watched him rut his hips through his orgasm. A small, amused yelp left your lips before you moaned softly. He'd never been this sensitive before. His hand dropped from your wrist.

"Fuck!" He groaned out, feeling his whole body tremble beneath you.

Shit, you know damn well you're far from over now.

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