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Am I allowed to want to see Ghost obsessed with tiny tits, not despite of the size, but bc of it? I feel bad about mine like they shouldnât even be preferred bc of the underage connotation đ (Iâm an adult)
I mean. Yeah?? I don't really understand how an adult's body would have "underage connotations?"
I think the better way to think about it instead of "preferring small breasts" would be "no previous preference has become a preference after he met you."
Because here's the thing, if you're looking for a partner that fetishizes part of your body in order to validate it then yeah you might run into people who are into tiny tits for weird reasons, but if you're looking for a partner that just prefers you and your tits because they're yours then that's different.
And isn't it more romantic to think about Simon, the big brute that he is, with no preference for the body around the pussy, suddenly finding himself completely enamored with every part of your body that isn't between your legs? That he marvels over your tits and the way they fit in his hands, perfectly, not spilling over his fingers or needing to be squeezed but just... sitting so nicely against his palms, so he can tease your nipples by just rubbing his rough hands against them? Isn't it more romantic to ask if he's a tits guy and have him say "nah. Just like what you got s'all."
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#f!reader
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A BOY'S FIRST PEST
Kaz Brekker x Reader
Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest
Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN
Word Count - 2.0k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat.Â
He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook).Â
And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, heâs going to kill everyone in this place and then himself).Â
Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home.Â
But it did, of course, have one enduring problem.Â
The pests.
Or, namely, the one pestâone that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekkerâs mind might argue the merit of replacing âcould neverâ with âwould neverâ).Â
Per Haskellâs very annoying (and very lovely) daughter.Â
In the midst of Ketterdamâs hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you donât mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin.Â
When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows.Â
Kaz doesnât so much as spare a glance in your direction. Heâs got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window.Â
Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. âSeriously? Youâre not even gonna greet me?âÂ
With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesnât look at you. âYouâre in my room.âÂ
âYeahâso I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,â you drone, lips pursed. âYâknow, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.âÂ
âWeâre not friends.âÂ
A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. âUm, ouch? Rude. For your sake, Iâm gonna pretend I didnât hear that.âÂ
Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. âI can always repeat it,â he says, so impassive you canât tell if itâs a joke.Â
Knowing Kaz, youâre pretty sure itâs not.Â
You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Itâs so much nicer than yoursâthe sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm.Â
If it were up to you, youâd sleep in here every night.Â
And most nights, thatâs exactly what you do.Â
âWould it kill you to be nice sometimes?â you ask.Â
âNot usually, no.â Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. âBut we both know youâre a special case.âÂ
âIs that a compliment?âÂ
âNot at all.âÂ
Your bottom lip juts into a pout. âHas anyone ever told you youâre an asshole?âÂ
Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kazâs expression remains vague and disinterested. âRegularly,â he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy.Â
Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. âI shouldâve guessed,â you nod, forever unphased by Kazâs forbidding attitude.Â
This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your fatherâs office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends youâd yet to make.Â
Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while youâre bright and bubbly; heâs rude and standoffish while youâre sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balanceâa yin and yang sort of thing.Â
Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say youâre a thorn in his side.Â
Fortunately for yourself, youâre not an easily offended thorn.Â
The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so youâre not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair.Â
âHave you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?â Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails.Â
His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. âNo.âÂ
Fumbling with his cufflinksâsimple, unadorned thingsâKaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink.Â
Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his headâa skill youâve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someoneâs ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers.Â
As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder.Â
Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look thatâs not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse.Â
âMaybe we should take a holiday,â you suggest, your voice a soft trill.Â
One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down.Â
He lands somewhere in the middle.Â
âAnd go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment.Â
âI donât know. Ravka, maybe?âÂ
âRavka?â Itâs like the word tastes sour on his tongue. âWhy?âÂ
You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one thatâs far less tragic. âI wouldnât mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,â you drawl. âNina says heâs quite the looker, yâknow.âÂ
Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension.Â
âOf course he is.â He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. âHeâs a princeâlooking pretty is all theyâre good for.âÂ
Your head tilts. âWell, heâs actually a king now, soâŠâÂ
Thereâs the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. âIâm not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.âÂ
âAnd why not?â You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crowâs head. âYou think I canât do it?âÂ
The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slatâs perpetual motionâdoors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk.Â
Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, âWeâre not going to Ravka.âÂ
Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, âFine!â Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger.Â
Abandoning the crowâs head, you swipe one of Kazâs abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isnât an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is⊠Besides, for all Ninaâs praise of the Lantsov king, youâve never actually had a thing for blondes.Â
And yetâÂ
âI really would like to go someday.â Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answerâtragic and rappingâcrawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, âMy mother was Ravkan.âÂ
That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt.Â
For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. Thereâs not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest.Â
In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your fatherâs office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kazâs attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you askedâeven if heâd griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom.Â
Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant.Â
I donât like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If Iâm alone, it means Iâm thinking, and if Iâm thinking, it means my mother wonât stop dying.Â
You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your motherâs last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of anotherâs skin.Â
When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You donât remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didnât matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist.Â
Donât make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. Youâre still a pest.
But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thingâand both of you knew it.Â
âFine.â Kazâs voiceâthe rasp of stone on stoneâdrags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. âWeâll go to Ravka. Youâll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. Iâll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?âÂ
Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. âKing,â you correct him.Â
His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. âPest,â he calls you, though it doesnât sound like much of an insult.Â
âI imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,â you muse.Â
âThen I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.âÂ
âWill you save me, then?â Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it.Â
Kaz hesitates. Thenâremarkablyâsmiles.Â
âMaybe.â
a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite
(â ͥ° ÍÊ ÍĄÂ°)â
anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU
#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x reader#shadow and bone imagine#six of crows imagine#shadow and bone fanfic#s&b imagine#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x you#shadow and bone fic#shadow and bone x reader#six of crows x reader#six of crows imagines#crooked kingdom#six of crows#shadow and bone#s&b netflix#kaz brekker#six of crows fanfic#grishaverse imagine#grishaverse#freddy carter imagine#freddy carter
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re: Leon's longtime friend
How would his first time with them be like? if they're in the same branch of work and have worked out their feelings and all that :)
So, I kinda answered both of these with just a single post, hope it's ok! Pretty much just general thoughts here. Written with Remake-verse Leon in mind <3
When it comes to sex, honestly.... I feel like he's pretty basic with his partner, unless they suggest to try out something new to him themselves, in which case he's totally down for it. That's not at all a bad thing though, basic positions are known as basic for a reason, and that's because they feel good! I kind of feel like he'll want to be able see his partner's eyes during intercourse, so he tends to prefer something like missionary (a classic, but for good reason!), or holding his partner up against the wall if we're talking more spontaneous quickie. At least there's something good to come out of his grueling training, y'know. He's definitely the type to either rest his forehead against yours or make-out with you in the middle of fucking.
And while I actually don't think he's big on dirty talk, I do think he's actually pretty communicative with his partner. He's a bit blunt about it, but it's a good kind of blunt. Especially when your brain is all fuzzy and woozy with hormones.
Something like: 'Does this feel good?', 'You wanna switch?', 'Faster, yeah?'
He's easy to communicate with, and that makes for a really comfortable experience.
He sucks at actual dirty talk though. Please don't ask him to do that; he'll either make you laugh out loud when you two are getting rowdy and then feel horribly embarrassed about the whole ordeal, or he'll die of embarrassment attempting to mimic some awful porn dialogue he's seen beforehand. That's not to say he can't learn! You'll just have to guide him in that department. It's sweet of him to try. He'll get there with some practice. He certainly won't mind some dirty talk on your end, however. Perhaps you could teach him the basics.
And while he may not be good at dirty talk, he doesn't even need it more often than not.
When he's being genuine instead of trying to play up some role, it's hot as hell. Lots of small praises and occasional swears along with situational comments. He's also very good at giving directions and commands. Has the perfect intonation for it, too. Very curt with his words, but it honestly just makes it hotter in the heat of the moment.
Something like: 'Eyes up.' 'Lift your leg.' 'Lay back.'
Massive cowgirl lover, with his partner facing him. He folds every time his partner is the one in charge, and he wants to be able to look at them and grope at them the entire time they're doing their thing. Again, probably lots of soft praises sprinkled in here and there. And yes, that includes 'good girl/boy'. Also gets kind of whiney during cowgirl specifically. Something about just sitting back and letting go of control for a while just makes him fall apart in the best way possible. He loves it when his brain gets blissfully empty, with nothing but the other's touch being there to fill it.
I'd say another one of his favorites is sideways missionary during lazy mornings and after his assignments. When he's feeling especially tired but craves to experience that feeling of intimacy regardless. This one is reserved for lazy sex with feelings, so he gets especially soft with this one. Peppering light kisses all over and whispering sweet nothings in that raspy, drowsy voice of his. It's special in its own wonderful way.
This probably goes without saying, but Leon's a massive oral enjoyer. Primarily on the giving end, whether it's eating pussy or sucking dick. Once more, he would rather stare at his partner all the while, hence positions that allow him to do so are preferred. He gets off on his partner feeling good, so you can very well expect him to give you his all each and every time. And with him being a naturally perceptive person, it won't take him long to figure out what makes you tick the most. I'd say that... most times he has sex will include him giving oral in it. It's kinda cute, because he will get all huffy about it if you are in a hurry, and he can't enjoy himself too much.
While he does prefer giving oral, he's more than happy to be on the receiving end, too. Like I said before, being given the opportunity to just let go and not think about anything is something he definitely craves. What better way to do that than have his partner suck him off? Again, gets all whiney and breathless with it. Regardless of the taste of his own cum on your lips, he always gives you a deep thank-you kiss afterward.
On that note, he's also pretty gross. Not in a weird way or anything, but he is utterly unfazed by getting any bodily fluids on him or inside him. He'll probably just shrug and say that it's way better than sewage water or bioweapon gunk. It's hard to argue with that. And it's hot, in a way. Him being so unperturbed by leaking up whatever mess you've made. Still best to brush your teeth and take a shower afterwards, though.
And while all of this is pretty basic, it stands true that he's willing to try anything with his partner if they're a bit more adventurous and experimental. It's more about him just not knowing most of the stuff than his unwillingness to try. However, I do believe that the idea of very rough sex would lead to some problems with him. And that's something that only really happens with his s/o. He has no issue fucking a one-night stand into the mattress to get his frustrations out, knowing they're enjoying it, but if he has feelings for that person, he'll kinda feel bad about it if he gets too in the moment and misuses his strength on them. It's not impossible by any means, but he'll have to be eased into it a bit. The last thing he wants is to hurt the one person he strives to protects the most. It's a difficult dichotomy for him to overcome. But with care and effective communication, anything is possible!
I also don't think he would enjoy getting choked. For obvious reasons.
His sex life is honestly very different depending on who he's having sex with. For example, I'd say he's actually a huge doggy style enjoyer with casual hookups, but with his partner, he'll automatically prefer something that will let him look them in the face directly. Both feel good in different ways.
In terms of his style of fucking and how loud or quiet he is, I don't see him moaning in a pornographic way or anything, but he's also not completely silent. Although I do think he actually made that mistake early on in his life because he had this popular misconception that men being vocal during sex is somehow weird. So he was stiff as hell and trying to stay quiet with his first couple of partners. It's why I think that his first couple of times sucked ass for both parties involved.
He doesn't figure it out until he has a partner who goes all: 'hold the fuck up, why are you stiff as a wooden pole and trying to be quiet?? I wanna hear you feel good?'
And he goes: '....wait, you do?'
I'll just say that rookie Leon experienced his fair share of learning curves.
Once more, I believe it all depends on the type of sex he is having and with whom. Your typical, everyday fucking session? Rough pants waffling over your ear, occasional grunts and groans when he feels real good. The deep, rumbly ones that emanate directly from the middle of his chest. These noises are hot as hell, especially when he is pressed up flush against you, and you can literally feel the vibrations. Will probably either gasp or let out a choked groan when he cums, but it'll be muffled. Either by kissing his partner or by pressing his face against their shoulder.
He's noticeably more vocal when it's an emotionally charged intimacy, especially if he's pent-up with emotions. If he wants this person, for more than their body and fun personality, everything just feels that much more intense. (on that note, I do think his hookups are chosen on more than just him finding someone hot physically, he actually has to enjoy their company to wanna stick his dick into them, and he does care about his casual partners too. He's not just having sex without caring for the needs of the one he's having sex with.) More than anything, Leon wants to feel wanted, and while he's fine with someone just wanting his body and status - hell, he even seeks out that sort of physical comfort - being touched by and being wanted like that by someone who he has an emotional attachment to? Oh, he's in a completely different headspace here. Lots of breath hitches and an occasional muffled 'mmh' noises from him during foreplay. That's because he'll find himself attempting to hold back a little.
Shaky breaths and moans poured into the kisses. If he's the one giving oral, will full out whine and growl against you because you feeling good because of him just turns him on that much. Actually moans out and gets a bit chatty if he's the one getting head. He'll sorta hold back at first, but will have his head thrown back and prolonged moans and groans leaving his lips soon after. Along with a strings of: 'fuck, just like that', or 'you feel so fucking good', or, if you find a particularly weak spot of his, a sharp gasp followed by 'oh God!' And your name sprinkled in there, too.
When it comes to actual intercourse, once again: sharp pants and an occasional rumbly groan. But this time he'll probably either be looking into your eyes or having your foreheads touching, so every noise is kinda that much more intense with that. He'll also kiss... a lot, and will straight up moan out into these kisses. In a somewhat higher pitch as well. Will probably chant your name before cumming. Which sounds hot as hell and probably have you get close just by hearing that. Once more, will most likely cum while kissing you.
Leon's pretty big on communicating through touch, though he is probably more subtle about it than his OG counterpart would be. I genuinely think he's way more obvious about him wanting to fuck than he thinks he is, once you figure him out. Will keep staring at you like a cat almost without as much as blinking. (Which is... a bit creepy, but don't tell him that bc he'll get self-conscious about it âč). Will persist in attempting to touch you in some way, whether it's fumbling with the belt loop of your jeans or keeping a hand on your lower back wherever you go, for no apparent reason. Overall just acting real clingy.
As you're cooking, he might approach you to wrap his arms around your waist and plant feather-light kisses from your jawline down the side of your neck, which would eventually grow into hot, open-mouthed kisses. Or him putting a hand on your thigh as you're seating on the couch (or maybe at a meeting if we're feeling extra frisky here) and kneading at it gently before tilting his head to press a kiss to your lips that, too, turns more heated once it starts. Sometimes, though, he will just be honest about it. Like when you're making out in the kitchen and he just pulls back and says: '...Bedroom'.
Leon's also great at aftercare. A bit too great sometimes, because he tends to focus solely on you, so make sure to pamper him, too! Will have you all nice and cleaned up with you not having to lift a finger. Even with a snack offered to you as a bonus. His favorite is taking a bath together, if you're feeling up to it, though. Something about the soft intimacy of it just makes his heart feel warm.
#resident evil#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#a gentle reminder that these are just personal headcanons!#just bc i'm kinda anxious of setting this one free into the wild lmao
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I Knew It Then
A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.
Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?
Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader
Words: 4.8k++
Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.
Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, âThe sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another againâŠ' How would you continue it?â and this is my answer.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day.Â
The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Buckyâs opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this.Â
Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how âthe people need a hero to look up toâ, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.
Nonetheless, Bucky couldnât really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they canât really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they wonât take their chances.Â
The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues.Â
He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.
With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldnât care to meet.
Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.
Until he saw her.
She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art.Â
Y/N.Â
Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.
She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress sheâd worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her.Â
Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; heâd heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through.Â
Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.
It broke him.Â
Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldnât fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldnât. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.
The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasnât truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elenaâs words, his exâs words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.
âMind if I sit?â
Her voice cut through the noise. Heâd looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didnât wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips.Â
She was so bright, so unapologetically there.Â
It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like sheâd already decided he was interesting and wasnât about to change her mind. âYou always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?â she teased, tilting her head.
âSpecial occasion,â he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. âGuess Iâm lucky, huh?â
She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. âIâll drink to that,â she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.
Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasnât sure what to make of her. âWhat brings you to this fine establishment?â he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. âLooking to rescue sad souls like me?â
âRescue?â She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. âPlease. Iâm here for the entertainment value.â
âBrutal,â he said, but he couldnât help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.
Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friendâs taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.
She gestured to his drink. âLet me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I donât judgeâŠâ A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. âShe.â he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/Nâs eyes. She nodded, âOkay, she left you for someone who didnât know how to brood so attractively.â
Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadnât laughed like that in... he couldnât remember how long.
Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to âgo out, meet people, get laidâ. Truthfully, she wasnât really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim.Â
But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her.Â
And he did.
Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasnât meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react.Â
At first, it was just fun.
But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough.Â
Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldnât hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.
âIâm kidding. Kind of,â she said, eyes softening as she studied him. âBut seriously, imagine missing out on you. Thatâs just sad at this point.â
But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasnât supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.
The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didnât know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if theyâd been doing so for years.Â
The air thickened and inches shrink.
When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadnât recognized before. It wasnât about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.
Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldnât cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.
They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. âWait,â he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.
She paused immediately, her gaze softening. âWhatâs wrong?â Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.
âIâm not who you think I am,â he said, the words thick, heavy.
A crease formed between her brows. âWhat? Your name is not James?â
The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. âNo. I am James, butâŠâ He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.
âButâŠ?â she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.
âMy name is James Buchanan Barnes,â he said, each syllable weighted.
For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. âYouâreâŠâ she began, just as he said, âThe Winter Soldier.â But what came from her lips was, âThe Avenger.â
They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. âWhat?â they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony.Â
The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didnât flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.
The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. âI want this, James,â she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. âI want you.â she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.
His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, âI want you too,â he said, his voice low, unguarded.
They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.
It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a sirenâs song.
He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldnât hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own.Â
Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.
When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, âIâm not ready for⊠anything serious,â he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.
She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. âThatâs okay,â she said. âWe donât need to label it. It can be what it is.â
âCasual?â he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.
She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. âCasual.â
They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.
The next few months, their âcasualâ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasnât pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasnât just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once.Â
It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldnât decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
It wasnât just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things.Â
She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.
And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didnât push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, heâd spill pieces of himself.Â
Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else.Â
And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. âThatâs not on you,â she had whispered, her hand covering his. âShe was the problem, not you.â When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.
And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldnât leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each otherâs body, they caressed each otherâs innermost scars. Theyâd talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.
And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, theyâd be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone.Â
It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldnât, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.
Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light.Â
She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldnât name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. âIâm going back to Elena,â he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air.Â
For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath.Â
But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.
She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didnât respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Buckyâs chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him.Â
Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. âThisâŠbeing here with you, touching you like this⊠this will be the last time,â he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.
Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better.Â
Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. Theyâd been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, sheâd been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; heâd been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his.Â
They were each other's strength, each other's solace.
'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldnât voice those thoughts. She wouldnât burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldnât beg for more than he could offer.Â
With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. âWill this make you happy?â she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.
Buckyâs heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. âYes,â he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldnât see past the facade.
Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasnât falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldnât see.
âThen, I guess this is goodbye,â she whispered, barely audible.
She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.
Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.
The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldnât shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what sheâd lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Buckyâs absence had left behind.Â
It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.
But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.
Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She shouldâve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper.Â
At times, sheâd pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. Sheâd feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasnât needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?
Even then, she couldnât help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when heâd thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, âIâm sorry. I didnât mean it. Iâm sorry.â The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.
She thought of those nights often. The way heâd hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how heâd bury his face in her shoulder to block out the worldâs judgement. Sheâd whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride.Â
He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.
But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldnât follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.
When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Buckyâs eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didnât falter.Â
Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter.Â
His heart ached with a need he thought heâd buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.
But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didnât care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.
Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like heâd been hollowed out.Â
And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.
âI miss you,â their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.
They kept walking.
That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable.Â
For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when theyâd go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust.Â
She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.
Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what theyâd had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. âHey⊠James. What are you doing here?â she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.
He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. âOut for a date?â he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.
âYeahâŠKind of.â she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. âCan I come in?â
She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. âI donât know if thatâs a good idea, James.â
âPlease,â he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. âYou gotta be quick,â she said, almost dismissively. âJosh is on the way.â
The mention of another manâs name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.
Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. âTalk,â she said flatly.
He paced, trying to find the words. âIt wasnât real,â he started, voice thick. âMe and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.â he paused as he studied her reaction, â We couldnât risk telling you. We had to make it look real. â
She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. âYouâre here for that? To explain yourself?â There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.
âYes.â Buckyâs voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. âWe managed to capture her.â He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. âWe had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldnât risk word getting out⊠not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldnât have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.â
He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. âIt turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before theyâŠâ His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real.Â
But he didnât need to say more. Y/Nâs eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. Heâd be dragged back into Hydraâs grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation.Â
It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.
Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. âSo that was it?â she demanded. âI was just collateral damage?â
âNo,â he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. âNo. It wasnât like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.â He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. âI did.â
She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. âUnbelievable. I smiled at you one time, Jamesâone timeâand you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?â
The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that heâd hurt her so deeply. âNo,â he said quickly, shaking his head. âThatâs not what this is. I didnât want to justââ
She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. âBullshit!â The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. âI just wanted to tell you the truth,â he said, his voice tight with urgency. âThat it was all fake.â
âFake?â She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. âIt looked pretty damn real to me, James. You donât think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?â
âIt was a cover, Y/N. I didnât have a choice.â
Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldnât be contained. âYou didnât have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?â
Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. âI was trying to protect you.â
âBy hurting me?â Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. âBy tearing me apart?â
Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. âBy leaving me behind?â she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. âBy pretending like what we had meant nothing?â
He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. âIt wasnât nothing,â he said, his voice quivering. âIt was everything. You were everything.â
She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. âI donât believe you.â
With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. âI love you, Y/N,â he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. âFrom the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an AvengerâI knew it then.â
He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. âBut it wasnât just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way youâd smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldnât breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way youâd whisper that I wasnât alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.â
He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. âI knew it was too late when I realized Iâd been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sallyâs, remember?â His voice grew softer, distant with memory. âIt was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldnât stop looking at you. It wasnât just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel⊠lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didnât own me.â
He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. âI realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought Iâd ruin it. Ruin you.â His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.
His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. âItâs the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like Iâm more than my past⊠God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.â
She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. âI love you,â he said again, more desperately. âI love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldnât be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didnât deserve it. And I donât want to lose you again.â
He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, âIâm so sorry. For everything.â
She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything sheâd buried. âI love you too,â she breathed, voice shaking. âI never stopped.â
His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each otherâs touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading đ„ș
#bucky barnes au#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader fluff#bucky x reader angst#bucky x reader smut#bucky fluff#bucky angst#bucky smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes smut#avenger!bucky
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SNIPER, SNIPER! LEON KENNEDY đ± F!READER.
summary. in leonâs line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses werenât an option. luckily, heâd eliminated his⊠all except for one.
warnings. au. nsfw, smut, angst, fluff. hitman!leon, ex!leon, jealous!leon, re4!leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance. porn with some plot. pet names. argument. oral sex (f!receiving), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie.
wc. 5.3k
note. i tend to fuck up a nice âex who is a raging munchâ fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now :3
â â â â â â â â â ⧠masterlist | request
Leon isnât sure why heâs here.
He hasnât ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply âknows too muchâ about something they shouldnât. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.
As a matter of fact, heâs positive that itâs the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. Heâs sure that heâs ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.
Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.
(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their heads. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)
Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.
He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.
(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there werenât an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)
âReread the target description that was left for me,â Leon quietly commands.
âAaand whatâs the magic word?â
He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he metâhe was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit⊠annoying.
âDonât piss me off,â he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.
Leon can practically hear Alexanderâs grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. âAlright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but thatâs alright, Iâm in no place to judge you.â
Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. âBounty, bounty, bounty⊠where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonightâŠ. and thatâs it.â
Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. Heâd never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone, but then again, heâs never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guyâs brain. Heâll take it.
âThanks,â he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.
It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, heâd perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.
And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.
âOoh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didnât we?â Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.
âWhatâre youâŠâ his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. âHoly⊠fuck.â
âI know right? Not only is she a woman, but sheâs miiiighty fine,â his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he canât hear a damn word.
Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a manâs arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.
Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that youâve just stepped into, your smile was side and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didnât recognize.
Youâre gorgeous, is all he can think right now. Itâs the first time heâs seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.
Suddenly, Alexanderâs voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. âEarth to Leon? I get it man, sheâs pretty, very much so. Iâd hit that too if she wasnât gonna die in like⊠two secs.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as heâd intended it to. âYou arenât going to lay a damn finger on her.â
âWoah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.â
That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.
Itâs you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonightâitâs you.
And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.
Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.
But he couldnât leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didnât need. If he didnât fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. Heâd broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, heâd unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.
You were walking away, and itâs then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.
Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.
His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They arenât your screams though, because youâre not hit. Theyâre coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.
He wasnât insane. He wasnât going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.
Well⊠was close to you. He isnât anymore. Your date is writing on the ground all because of a flesh wound, and youâre standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.
Leon canât help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, heâs rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.
âWhatâre you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh⊠you still have the shot. Take the shotââ
Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before she shoves it into his back pocket. He didnât need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. Heâd beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he werenât already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.
He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was⊠going to be no easy feat, he supposes.
You donât find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.
To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.
Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.
âWhat the fuck?â you hiss, your voice rising in octave.
Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadnât come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didnât mean you wanted to see him.
âBaby, itâs just me,â he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.
âYeah, I know itâs just you, thatâs the problem!â you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. âAre you out of your damn mind? Iââ
âYes,â he answers without hesitation. âI am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.â
Your brows knit together. âYou littleâ you know what? Iâm not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?â
âCanât do that,â he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. âI need to talk to you.â
âDonât do this, Leon, not tonight,â you huff, pinching your nose bridge. âIâm not in the mood, alright? I wasââ
âShot at?â he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.
Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. âHow do you know that?â
He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. âDamn it, Leon, how do you know that?â
Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. âI was the one behind the gun, but itâs not what you thinkââ
Your jaw drops. âNot what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!â
He shakes his head, his expression falling. âI didnât, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, andââ
âYou tried to shoot me in the damn neck!â you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.
Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.
âWhat the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! Thatâs almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!â
Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you donât, he speaks instead. âI aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger youââ
âYeah, and you almost blew his arm off!â Youâre more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you donât need to have any sense right now.
âIt was a flesh wound, heâll be just fine,â he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. âAnd I wasnât stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just⊠collateral. I had no choice.â
He hopes that you donât ask any more questions about that, because he wonât have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasnât legal. It couldnât have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.
The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.
âLookâŠâ he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldnât. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. âI know that much has changed between us. Itâs my fault, I know it, but I canât tell you anything more about my job, I just need you toââ
You need answers that you wonât be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.
âYou remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,â you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. âGuess we havenât changed as much as you think.â
He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesnât. Itâs almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.
Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.
âI still think youâre sexy when youâre mean to me,â he whispers, tilting his head to the side. âThat hasnât changed either.â
Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.
You scoff, narrowing your eyes. âYouâre disgusting.â
Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. âDisgusting? Oh, donât romance me.â
âIâm not romancing you,â you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. âIâm threatening you.â
He hardly finds you to be threatening. Heâd liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldnât dare voice that out loud. Heâs letting you have your moment, truth be told. âMm, even better.â
His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.
He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. âNow. Tell me, who was that guy?â
A random guy you met on Tinder. âMy future husband.â
Youâre just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, itâs working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.
He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesnât make that known. Not yet, anyway.
âYeah?â he asks, tilting his head. âYou gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?â
No, you absolutely were not, but youâre enjoying this game. Itâs what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. âYeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.â
Leon doesnât like the thought that youâve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. âHuh. Thatâs what you want?â
You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. âYou know what I donât want? To be shot at.â
He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but⊠you both know he hadnât truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.
âAnswer my question,â he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didnât have before.
You huff, willingly sitting on your couch, even though youâre doing your best to front as though youâre totally disinterested. âWhy should I?â
He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.
ââCause if thatâs what you want, Iâll give it to you.â
You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldnât be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that heâs about to see conveys that pretty well.
âGive me what?â you ask, grinning slightly.
âA ring, a baby⊠both, neither,â he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. âLift your hips for me.â
When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that youâre all too familiar with. âWhatever you want, baby, Iâll give it to you,â he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.
Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you. But he doesnât. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.
âYou just have to say the words,â he whispers against your lips.
You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. âI want to kiss you.â
Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. âMm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.â
His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.
Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.
His trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck⊠just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesnât seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.
One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.
âLeon, that was my favorite shirt!â you scold, glancing down at him.
He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. âWas it?â he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.
You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesnât last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.
âBuy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,â he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. âTits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.â
âIs that all you missed about me?â you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.
âAbsolutely not, no,â he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. âMissed everything about you.â
You roll your eyes. âThatâs cornyââ
âSh,â he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. âLet her talk for a bit, yeah?â
He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.
Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.
âSweetest pussy,â he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didnât. âDo somethinâ for me?â
You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.
âSit on my face,â he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.
He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.
Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.
And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his noseâhe hardly cares.
(In fact, he doesnât care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)
âY-You know,â you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, âIâm still mad at you.â
He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. âMm, yeah?â
It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated youâre growing.
âYeah,â you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. âIâm really fucking mad.â
Leon canât help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. âIâm not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ân all.â
âShut⊠shut the hell up,â you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didnât mean you had to admit that.
âOkay,â he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. âShuttinâ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while youâre at it, pretty girl.â
Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. âI⊠Leon, âm cumming,â you say through an airy moan.
His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.
You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.
âSoâŠâ he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. âYouâre still mad at me? Tell me more.â
âLater,â you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.
With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until youâre laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.
âAh, I see,â he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.
You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. âI donât think itâs gonna fit,â you say.
Itâs been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didnât want to make you nervous by saying that.
His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. âYou flatter me,â he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. âNo need to worry your pretty little head, baby. Iâll take care of you.â
You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. âOkay⊠yeah, okay.â
He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.
âI promise,â he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. âIâll take care of you.â
He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.
âI love you,â you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while heâs actively entering you? Time and place.) âIâm so sorry, Iââ
âNothing to apologize for,â he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. âMm⊠I love you so much,â he replies without a care in the world. âAnd Iâm not sorry about it.â
Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. âWell⊠thatâs good, isnât itâŠ?â
His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. âYouâre such a dork, baby,â he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. âA pretty one, though.â
Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. âYour dork,â you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.
âMhm,â he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. âMy dork.â
Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. âOh, GodâŠâ
He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.
âSee?â he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. âYouâre taking me so well, pretty. So well.â
That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesnât last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.
âYouâre crazy,â you gasp out.
Leon smiles. âCrazy about you, sure.â
You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. âSoooo corny,â you whisper.
He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.
âYou love it,â he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.
You shake your head. âI love you.â
Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. âAnd Iâm the corny one?â
That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much heâs enjoying this. Having you again.
He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. âPussy was made for me,â he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. âYou were made for me.â
After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. âMmh, âm gonna cum,â he rasps.
He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. Itâs been so long, he hadnât truly thought that youâd be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. âI love you, sweet girl.â
You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. âI love you more.â
He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. âCum with me, baby, câmon. I need it, honey, please.â
Youâre in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.
The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.
When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.
âNow, as for why Iâm still mad at youâŠâ
note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way thatâs concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!
â â â â â â â â â ⧠masterlist | request
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#resident evil#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy smut#resident evil smut
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Apologies and Insecurities (+18)
Pairing: Gale Dekarios x Female Tav
WC: 2400
Summary: Youâre so sick and tired of hearing about your loverâs toxic ex. It comes to a head and youâre ready to either break it off or kill him, he finally comes to his senses.Â
*authorâs note* letâs assume mama Karlach has had her second upgrade and can touchy feely, yes?
TW: SMUT! Praise kink, good boy Gale, unprotected sex, attempted murder? Arguments, make up sex, cream pies, oral sex f receiving, fingering, love making idk?
â âÂ
The party had made camp early. The sun was still out, but just starting to make its gentle dive into the horizon.Â
Shadowheart, Astarion, and Wyll were seated side by side on a fallen log being used as a makeshift bench at the campfire circle.Â
The smell of cooking meats wafted throughout the camp. The unlikely trio shared a bottle of stolen Elsmetar Red as they watched the eveningâs entertainment unfold.Â
*wOOOOOOsh* *rip* *THWACK*Â
The sound of an arrow piercing tent fabric and lodging firmly into an oak tree rung out.Â
âOH right, Gale, SURE! Just the same as it is every time!â Tav, bow in hand storms around the rocky outcropping obscuring Galeâs tent from the rest of the camp. Her footsteps stomp across the dirt, headed back to her own tent, kicking up pebbles in her wake. Tavâs face was bright red and her knuckles were ivory white from the tight grip she had on her weapon.Â
âMy darling, please!â The wizards voice sounded both apologetic and irritated resonating from behind the rocks as he exited his tent to follow. âItâs really nothing! I donât see why youâre turning this into-â
âYou donât? Famed âwizard of waterdeepâ fails to see the reason his lover is upset?â Tav huffs, still making a beeline across the camp, not even bothering to turn around. âArcane knowledge canât replace common sense, it seems.âÂ
*ppfftt* Astarion spits out a sip of wine, desperately trying to hide the sound of his chuckle.Â
âWow, a storm cloud hovers closely over the island of paradise it seems.â Wyll comments softly with raised eyebrows.Â
âWill you shut up? I want to see if she kills him this time.â Shadowheart remarks, taking a sip of wine and enjoying the show.Â
âIf you canât appreciate a bit of commentary, you donât know good theatre.â Astarion says, smugly. âWhat do you think he did? Said Mystraâs name at the peak of climax? Bit her hand when slurping down another amulet?âÂ
âYouâre terrible.â Wyll scolds while taking a drink. â⊠Iâd put 50 gold on the first one.âÂ
Astarion smirks and holds out his hand. âShake on it.âÂ
Wyll clasped Astarionâs pallid hand with a guilty looking grin.Â
âSweet love, all I asked is if you wanted a piece of cheese!â Gale pleads as he speed walks to keep up with Tav (running wasnât his strong suit).Â
Tav spins around on her heels and comes to a stop.Â
âNO, you didnât âask if I wanted a piece of cheese!ââ Tav yells, eyes wild. âYou said âhere, have a piece, you love blue cheese.ââ She continues to seethe. âI FUCKING HATE BLUE CHEESE!âÂ
âI merely forgot! You canât put an arrow through my chest because I had forgotten what kind of cheese you prefer!â Gale says, exasperated.Â
âYou said you knew I loved it! Thatâs not me! Thatâs stupid fucking Mystra, you gods-damned ignoramus!â Tav rushes towards her lover, angry tears pricking the corners of her eyes from the frustration.Â
âIf you had told me the wizard would die over a slice of Roquefort, Iâd have sent you to the healers.â Astarion says with a smirk. âThis is good.âÂ
âShould we be worried? Do you think the orb will explode if she kills him? Should we leave?â Wyll asks.Â
âIf thatâs the way I die, so be it. This is too rich to miss.â Shadowheart says as she sits up further in interest.Â
âDarling I must protest. I cannot thrive under these ridiculous expectations. Youâre stifling me with your constant accusations! Itâs been an age since Mystra and I promise I-â Galeâs expression turns from apologetic to angry.Â
âYou just donât fucking get it, do you? You canât-âÂ
*THUMP*
The camp was silent.Â
Shadowheart and Astarion gasp.Â
âHe did NOT just magically silence her, did he?â Wyll says with raised brows.Â
âOh heâs positively done for.â Astarion remarks with a devilish giggle.Â
The trio watched Tav emote and scream in complete silence due to the magical effects cast by her wizard. She grips an arrow from her quiver and loads it into her bow.Â
Just as she pulls the string back another voice echoed throughout the camp.Â
âALLright Soldier, thatâs enough of that.â Karlach had emerged from her own tent and approached Tavâs raging form. âCome on, no murdering our friends.âÂ
Karlach bends down, scoops Tav up by her waist and throws her over her broad shoulder.Â
âYouâre going for a dunk in the river to cool off. If you still canât play nice after that, weâll have to try something else.â Karlach says as she affectionally pats Tavâs leg draped over her glowing chest. Tav silently kicks and screams in protest as the tiefling carries her much smaller body off into the woods.Â
âAww. Such an unsatisfying finale.â Astarion pouts as he takes another sip of wine.Â
â âÂ
After a long soak in the cool river and a heated venting session with Karlach, your temper had subsided along with the searing sunlight of the day. You had forgone the normal revelry of an evening at camp to brood alone in your tent. Most of your companions had gone to bed you could only hear the dirge of crickets from the forest outside your tent.Â
You stared at the peaked, cloth ceiling of your tent as you laid on your beck on your bedroll. You had been trying to sleep, but the anxious gnawing of your argument with Gale and the frustration of feeling like youâd always be second best were keeping your eyes pried open.Â
How could you ever compare to a literal goddess?Â
She was powerful. Beautiful. Inspirational. Celestial.Â
Was he thinking of her every time he laid with you?
Tears threatened to form in the outer corners of your eyes again but you blinked them away. You hugged a pillow close to your chest to comfort yourself as you rolled onto your side. You let out a long sigh.Â
As you gazed towards the opening of your tent, you see a flutter of movement agains the fabric near the door. After you watch whatever it was take a few fumbling brushes against the outside of the tent, the tent flaps separate and you see something enter your tent. You sit up on instinct and reach for your bow.Â
Your heart rate slows when you see a translucent blue hand holding a large, beautiful, albeit clumsily put together, bouquet of daisies and babyâs breath. You snort a laugh, but make no move to accept the flowers.Â
The hand wiggles the arrangement in your direction tentatively. You reach out and roll your eyes. You take the flowers from the magical, disembodied hand and set them at the side of your bed roll.Â
âYou can come in, Gale.â You say loudly.Â
As if by magic, Gale steps sheepishly through your tent flaps and makes sure theyâre closed properly behind him.Â
âGood evening.â He says with a soft smile, standing awkwardly.Â
âThank you for the flowers.â You say after an uncomfortable silence. You swallow. âCome, sit.â You pat the bedroll across from your seated form. Gale sits gingerly across from you, his body not facing you fully, not wanting to seem too familiar.Â
âI shouldnât have tried to shoot you with an arrow. That was an ov-â You begin.Â
âNo.â Gale interrupts you. âI will accept no apologies, for I am the one who is here to make amends.âÂ
You quiet yourself. You were the one who flew off the handle over cheese, for gods sake. You couldnât form words.Â
âTav, I was being selfish. I didnât think of the way you felt, being with someone whose last lover was a god. I was only thinking of myself⊠something Iâve been apt to do in relationshipsâŠâ Gale hangs his head. âSomething I need to be kept accountable for. It wasnât about the cheese, I know that now.â Gale turns and looks into your eyes. âI come here to beg you for another chance.âÂ
âYou neednât beg, Gale.â You smile sympathetically. âOf course Iâll give you another chance. Daisies are my favorite flower, after all.â You reach out and take his hand in yours.Â
âSo youâll give this old, bumbling wizard another shot at love?â Gale grins and squeezes your fingers in his.Â
âOld bumbling wizard? Elminster is here?â You jest.Â
âThankfully no. Itâs just you and I, my love⊠always.â Gale chuckles before reaching out with his free arm and pulling you close. âYouâll let me prove how deep my love for you is, yes?â He asks, wrapping his arms around your body and gently pushing you to lay back on your bedroll.Â
âIâll allow it.â You say playfully as Gale hovered above you.Â
Gale hums and lifts your tunic over your head, you sit up to help him in the process. You go ahead and shimmy down your trousers, leaving your body completely bare on your mattress. Galeâs face is immediately buried in your neck, littering it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. His stubble scraped your flesh and your hips twitched in response.Â
âHow lucky am IâŠâ Gale murmurs into your neck. â⊠that I get to have you like thisâŠâ He brings his hand up to squeeze your breast roughly, the way he knows you like. You moan softly at his touch.Â
His kisses trail down your sternum while smooth, uncalloused hands pinched and twisted at your nipples. Hands never leaving your sensitive chest, Gale kissed above your navel, then your lower abdomen, then your mound before nuzzling his face into the coarse patch of hair here. The wizard takes a deep inhale.Â
âSo lovely, as always my sweet. Canât wait to taste youâŠâ Gale pulls his hands from your breasts and uses them to push your thighs apart as he settles himself between your legs. âMmmmmph..â He moans even louder than you do as he delves his tongue between your lower lips.Â
âShit-â You sigh out and instinctively tangle your right hand into Galeâs brown locks.Â
And just like that, all transgressions and arguments were slingshotted out of your mind. The way his lips closed around your sensitive clit and suckled gently had your eyes rolling back in your head. You bring your left hand to grip your own breast, losing yourself in the pleasure Gale was bestowing upon you. You grind your hips further upward into his face, met with contented hums from deep in his chest.Â
âYou taste so sweet.. could drink you forever, darlingâŠâ Gale mumbles as he comes up for air, placing a gentle, wet kiss on your inner thigh. He shifts his position so he can bring two fingers and rub them messily up and down your slit. Your body jolts every time they brush your clit. âMy my, what a sight.â Gale smirks before pushing those two digits into your sopping hole. He immediately curls them upward to pull and tap on your favorite spot. âNeed you to cum for me, love⊠let go for meâŠ.â He coos before returning his lips to your clit.Â
You cry out and arch your back. Your walls start clenching involuntarily and you feel a familiar pressure build in your abdomen.
âFuck- just.. like- that-! Ah!â You dig your nails into Galeâs scalp as you reach your climax. You barely notice the slowing of the wizardâs fingers inside you as you ride out your orgasm. Your eyes flutter closed and you try to catch your breath. âGood boy.â You pant out with a dazed grin on your face, still staring at the ceiling of your tent.Â
The bedroll shifts and you feel a soft hand pull your legs apart.Â
Gale had shed his clothing and was now between your legs on his knees, straddling one of your legs while hauling the other over his shoulder.Â
âYou canât say things like thatâŠâ Gale warns as he uses his hand that wasnât holding your leg to his chest to guide his leaking cockhead through your soaking folds. âYou know what that does to meâŠâ He whispers as he slowly rubs his tip across your clit.Â
You smirk and rake your nails down his chest.Â
âMaybe I doâŠâ You buck your hips, wordlessly begging him to enter you.Â
Gale canât resist the wetness of your sex any longer and pushes his member inside of you slowly and deliberately. You both let out relieved gasps as your hips become flush with each others. Without pulling out completely, your lover slowly grinds himself into you, pelvis rubbing your clit with every movement.Â
You feel a gentle kiss pressed to the side of your knee.Â
âGods youâre fucking gorgeous. So perfectâŠâ Gale praises as he brings a hand to pinch your nipple.Â
Completely lost in pleasure, you arch your back and moan, not caring if anyone else in the camp hears you⊠they had already heard you argue earlier, this couldnât be much worse. âGale!â You cry out.Â
âYes love, Iâm yours. Only yours.â Gale pants out between rough thrusts, the allure of his own end overwhelming him. âI love you, only you..â He drops your leg from his shoulder and leans over you, capturing your open lips in a searing kiss.Â
âIâm-â You whimper out, breaking the kiss after a few moments, feeling the tension in your sex threaten to release.Â
âI know, I know, me tooâŠâ Gale huffs, forehead pressing against yours.Â
âI love you.â You say as you grip Galeâs hair again, keeping him as close as you could physically have him. He continues grinding his member vigorously against the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your pleasure crested and you tipped over the edge with a cry.Â
âI love you.â Gale mirrors and grunts before his hips stutter and you feel him pumping you full of white hot spend. Once the twitches of his cock slowed, he slumped over to your side and pulled your panting body into his chest.Â
âSo⊠youâre staying here tonight?â You ask as you draw lazy patterns on Galeâs back with your fingernails.Â
âOh without a doubt. Astarion was still up when I came in here. Called me names the entire time. Thereâs no way Iâm going out and looking at his smug face now.â Gale says.Â
âSuch a plagued, little wizard you are.â You tease.Â
âPlagued, yes. Little, no.â Gale protests. âI think you can attest to that.â He says with a charming smile.Â
âShut up and go to sleep.â You roll your eyes.Â
#baldurs gate fanfiction#baldurs gate smut#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 tav#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale x tav#bg3 gale#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate fanart#gale
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TL;DR: it's not my ship, but they were done dirty
I always always always come back to that weird little reveal that when they were first floating the idea to bring Tommy back, they said it was to do a storyline with Eddie and it got switched to Buck because it was too weird or tricky to have them both break up with their LIs offscreen but only one actress could come back.
Because a stepping stone relationship makes perfect sense for Eddie. Something short and intense with angst and softness for him to get to this moment of letting himself feel joy and to taste how truly good it can be. He didn't need an endgame relationship right now. He did need to have his "first."
Buck didn't need that. Buck is absolutely ready for his forever and he has been for a while and giving him the "inviting Natalia to move in and then catching his own bad habit for once and backing out" would have been great.
But that didn't happen. Instead Eddie had to sit like a hot dog on one of those rolling warmers for a season while Buck started the queer dominos falling (and I admit this is a little bit from a Buddie endgame perspective because it doesn't feel to me like the show was deciding to explore the a character's sexuality just for exploratory purposes and I'm willing to admit I have a blind spot here.)
And honestly I think the fact that Oliver cares so much about Buck and telling this story well both for the character and everyone who sees himself in him and that Lou met that energy turned the storyline and the relationship into a more beautiful beginning than it would have been in the hands of other actors.
Which gave the show it's next problem. Because we can all see that Buck is ready for his forever love and you introduced a new love interest and then instead of sticking to a few episodes of awakening and moving on, I think they saw that people were starving for it and latched onto it and Tommy harder than they expected. So it's an easy thing to do to milk that for a little bit longer, but it was absolutely the wrong choice because people got invested in a way they wouldn't have if this had ended after the original number of episodes we expected.
And Buck and Tommy worked! I think you can nitpick relationship things if you weren't that into it and write a breakup narrative using those seeds, but their puzzle pieces absolutely fit together. So much so that they definitely had forever after potential that everyone could see and a lot of people were excited about and investing in and oops wait that wasn't the plan.
So what do you do? You either abandon the plan and embrace the accidental beauty that you discovered and let it ride or you write your way out of it. Give them some hurdles, some angst. Give them a tear-jerking breakup that respects what you built and the viewers who are invested in it and slowly work your way back to where you wanted to be.
They didn't write their way out of it.
And I so don't want to believe that after the work the actors put in and the viewer feedback that they were still viewing the relationship as a placeholder ready to be yeeted once Eddie's arc got back in position again, but I'm not sure what the alternatives are?
Either it's being talked about that this is the last season and so if they're really doing buddie then it's now or never? Or actually the internet is not a valid reflection of the viewership as a whole and someone from on high said the plug should be pulled?
Or the storyline was stumbled into and fumbled around from the beginning and never treated with as much care by the people in charge of it as it was by the people who loved it.
IDK it's just messy messy storytelling and I say that as someone who is not a multishipper but who does value a good story and a good narrative. They let the relationship go on for too long to end it so abruptly. If there was going to be a breakup, there was a better one to be had and it doesn't make me feel good that my preferred happy ending could come from one that breaks the heart of so many of my friends. And if it isn't in the service of a bigger, already in motion endgame, literally what the fuck?
#911 spoilers#babbling hours#idk what to tag this#also making abby an actual plot point to all of this really makes it feel like a joke#like that's a thing to say as a funny haha callback 'wait what?' moment#it didnt' need to be part of buck and tommy deciding what their relationship was#also i haven't seen the episode!#i just feel like i have#so if i missed something#fair enough
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Iâm not saying that a presidency under trump is preferred but with the amount of people I see endlessly doomposting both here and in my irl circles I just canât help but ask how distanced are you all from whatâs actually been happening. You all are treating this like, the most black and white scenario like we were So Happy but now trumps gonna sit down in his big office chair and press the big red Kill All Minorities button that makes everything bad forever as if thatâs not whatâs been happening. Whether the White House exists with a red or blue tint, whether we live under trump, or harris, or biden, or obama, or anyone else before, America is built to function under the suffering and exploitation of its most vulnerable people. Do you think we werenât seeing any suffering under biden? Cop cities were still being built, immigrants were still being held in camps on the border, we still saw a rise in homelessness, we still saw the rise of anti-trans legislation, we still saw the overturn of Roe v Wade, we still saw the execution of Marcellus Williams, we still saw the murder of Sonya Massey, We still saw the murder of Nex Benedict, we still saw the murder of Hind Rajab along with thousands upon thousands of other Palestinian people, is this not suffering? Do you think people cared about us before? Most of the white upper-class queers on here I see treating trumps election like its a sudden endangerment to our rights only see it as such because theyâre incapable of comprehending corruption until itâs able to reach and destroy their own white life. I do not say this to add to doomerism, saying weâre doomed no matter what only does the rightâs job for them, rather just ask you to open your eyes and start to truly care for the community around you. Were we not already hurting? Were we not suffering before? Would you not be crying for innocent lives if it were kamala instead? Do you really think the former cop electoral candidate wouldâve saved you?
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Helloo! could I humbly request relationship headcanons for Sasuke before and after the war? as in the difference between him then and after? I always thought he'd be a lot more mature and his views on things might change? especially since before he never would've had the time to actually consider things like romantic relationships and such to a deep extent? I'd love to hear your thoughts! I wish you a good day/night!
(fem reader or gn!neutral is up to you! I'm okay with either!)
author's note: hi, lovely! I am so glad to get a request for Sasuke, as he is one of my favourite boys, but I don't really get the chance to write a lot for him. I guess the "after the war" Sasuke can be a bit OOC if you follow Boruto, but as I haven't watched it and I don't really agree with how most of the characters developed... I just kind of wrote the way I envision it. I hope you enjoy! <3
BEFORE the war
It is very hard to imagine Sasuke having a relationship with someone during the time when the only thing that plagued his mind was the idea of revenge.
If he was to get interested in someone, I would imagine it would be a civilian/retired ninja during his travels with Team Taka. (I don't really imagine him falling for a ninja tbh)
I think even here, we have to separate before and after Itachi's death...
Let's roll with the idea that he meets his s/o before killing his brother. During this time he won't be really interested in forming a relationship - for a really long time he won't even understand what is that funny thing inside his chest and why he feel the need to visit his s/o's house every few months.
Sasuke has the tendency to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, so I imagine that this is how he will behave with his s/o the same way - he will visit his their house at random times, always staying for different periods of time; demand that they heal him (if his s/o is a healer or had any basic medical knowledge); he would buy stuff for the house from the local market or leave some of his own (such as some of his clothes), almost as a way to establish a claim over them/their property.
He would never put a label on the type of "situationship" him and his s/o share, but it is clear to both that whatever is going on is deeper than a friendship.
Still very cold and reserved - would share very minimal information about his past or his goals, preferring to either sit in silence or ask his s/o questions.
Kind of grumpy and rude ALL THE DAMN TIME.
He didn't want to entertain the idea of having feelings for someone, yet he couldn't stay away. The intentions of his visits were always masked with some type of "excuse" - he was in "hiding"; he needed somewhere to "heal"; he wanted a "break" from his team etc. Yet he couldn't help but feel annoyed he was getting distracted from his main goal and he was taking it on his s/o in the form of snappy comments, rolling eyes, constant huffing and just in general bad attitude.
A silent protector - he would check on his s/o quite often, sometimes not even visiting their house, just watching from a distance to make sure they are okay. I imagine during this time he would be highly alert and worried Itachi may try to target his s/o, so he may even act a bit controlling by banning them from leaving their house after dark or letting any strangers inside.
Now Sasuke after killing Itachi and learning the truth about his clan... is a COMPLETELY different story.
We all know his mental health completely collapsed during this time and his mind spiraled downward. This would affect not only his actions, but also his relationship.
For starters, he would clearly establish that he consider them as "his" (if it was not clear before, it is now). His paranoia that everyone is after him, fueled with the fact that he not only wanted a revenge on Konoha, but also the belief that he needs to start rebuilding his clan soon, would push him into constantly trying to persuade his s/o to leave with him.
Now I've said that before, but I don't see Sasuke with the shy, agreeable type of partner... so most likely his s/o would just cuss him out and tell him to leave.
Lot's of arguments, jealousy and gaslighting - Sasuke is literally a walking RED FLAG during that time.
He also is not the type to give up easily, so even if his s/o tries to 'break things off', there is no getting rid of him - his s/o is HIS and he would make sure not only they understand it, but that the WHOLE WORLD does. Nobody loves like an Uchiha after all...
AFTER the war
If you expect head canons based on Sasuke's personality in Boruto... you better stop reading here! I've never seen Boruto, but I've read enough to know that (at least for me) almost all of the OG characters are ruined. So here is my interpretation of what type of partner Sasuke would be after the war...
Firstly, let's start with the fact that he will be by himself for a long time while travelling during his "exhile". Even if he had some type of partner/crush before the war, it is unlikely their relationship would survive after the war.
(which is quite good actually, because as I mentioned above, such relationship would be highly toxic and dysfunctional!)
I think at least a few years need to pass for him to really find himself, find his purpose and accept his past and that of his clan. He has been through a lot of trauma which needs a lot of healing and self-discovery.
Like mentioned above, I don't think he would fall in love with a ninja. In fact, I believe someone who is not really part of that bloody and cruel world would be perfect for him and he would finally have the chance to be himself.
Someone with a lot of patience would suit him well, because while he is more mature, I think he would be very insecure. He never really formed any significant bonds with other people, so he is unsure how to proceed and how to properly treat his s/o.
Definitely friends-to-lovers type of love story.
Sasuke after the war would be more patient and calm, but still fiercely overprotective. I still think he would scold his s/o of they are too careless or too trusting with strangers, he would be nearly as controlling as his younger self.
Tbh I never understood the character development in Boruto, because in my opinion adult Sasuke would totally want a quiet settled life with his partner, away from battles and more bloodshed.
It's already settled in him to be a provider and to be honest I imagine him as a very traditional male figure - the head of the family, the one taking care of his partner and kids, providing protection and security.
He still has a lot to learn and overcome, but the main thing that sets him apart from his younger self is the willingness to listen to his partner and work on himself.
He is still occasionally rude and snappy, and to an outsider way too cold and reserved toward his partner, but to his s/o it would be obvious that he does try to show affection in his own way - waking up before everyone else, so he can prepare breakfast; unconsciously shielding his partner (and kids) with his body in public; small gifts, most of which handmade; subtle touches on the arm or the lower back...
Overall, a piece of work... but definitely one that is worth it!
cc artwork: Christian Benavides
#sasuke x reader#sasuke uchiha x reader#sasuke headcanons#sasuke imagine#naruto requests#naruto imagines#naruto headcanons
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Thoughts in the Immediate Election Aftermath
The Prudentialist
Nov 06, 2024
"The demons cunningly withdraw for a time in the hope that we will cease to guard our heart, thinking we have now attained peace; then they suddenly attack our unhappy soul and seize it like a sparrow."
- St. Isaiah the Solitary
As the Associated Press has called the presidential race for Donald Trump, (with Kamala yet to emerge to offer a concession speech, at least at the time of writing this) Iâm left with a huge shit-eating grin on my face. However I canât say itâll last forever, chasing a high from so many years ago will never be quite the same once you get a hold of it again. I sent my vote for Donald Trump during early voting, and if you include the primaries (and for the sake of disclosure) I have voted for Donald Trump six times now with this election being the last. I had voted for a bull in the china shop in 2016, thinking he would be safer in terms of foreign policy over Hillary Clinton, and my politics moved further to the right as I saw the bureaucracy, the media, big business, etc., rally against him and people who voted for him. 2020 of course happened, but weâll get into that later on today.
And here we are.
The results as of this morning:
While the Spirit of 2016 crackles through the air like the spirit of radio did in 80s and the glass ceiling still stands without a crack, the nagging feeling of âIâve been here beforeâ lingers in my mind. Trump and his supporters have been called Hitler, fascists, racists, all the rest, and have seen conservative aligned businesses targeted, and any elite defections have lawfare and the like as Elon Musk and his companies have. Had the economic conditions been better, had the borders not been opened up for millions to pour in and to get better treatment than actual Americans, the constant preference for the foreigner over the citizen, the mandates, the inflation, all of itâŠthis election could potentially have gone a different direction and this isnât even mentioning the attempts on Trumpâs life.
There are some key items as to how we got to here, in no particular order.
Biden dropping out of the race.
Elon Muskâs purchase of Twitter (now X.)
Kamalaâs poor quality as a candidate
Rampant inflation
Foreign Policy (Shipping Lanes, Israel, Ukraine)
Regime preference for foreigners
Lawlessness/Anarcho-Tyranny (Law and Order)
Open Borders - Every State a Border State
Countless more factors are included, but one thing that I think is really worth mentioning here is just how millennial coded this election was, especially for Kamalaâs campaigns. From âBratâ to her appearance on the âCall Her Daddyâ Podcast, her staffers going on TikTok to talk their âMAGA Unclesâ as if they were literal preschoolers shows us that the mid-thirties schoolmarm schtick wasnât going to sit well. Kamala was a piss poor candidate in 2020, and was already tied to an unpopular (and illegitimately elected) President Biden, and her lack of policy positions and presupposed âvibesâ werenât going to go far enough when the average personâs quality of life had gone down, costs have gone up, and the worship of lawlessness meant what they did have was very much at risk especially in urban areas. California has opted to be tougher on crime based on the results of Prop 36.
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The last time I got a bit drunk I started doing my dishes and messaging everyone I knew. I was having 3 conversations at once and finally accomplishing a task I'd been putting off all day. how does THAT work. I'm inventing new unique ways to be a failwoman (gender neutral)
#i'm having the world's stupidest problems#if i revealed the specific amount of time i have spent procrastinating on trying to get a job despite waling up every day intending to try#you all would think i was insane#other life tasks too#sometimes i will want to do something and it will be like. okay if i was normal i could do this in months but#let's say 3-5 years#i feel bad about it too not because i want to be productive for some rich guys somewhere but because!#i have goals for my life i would prefer to stay busy and do something that benefits someone somewhere (not those rich guys)#i like doing tasks even#i would prefer to not be sitting here thinking#and if i could just master basic life tasks we could move on to fun creative goals i have too or things i'd like to try#anyway. perhaps i will just try different substances until i can hit the off switch on whatever that is for a sec#i really just need like 3 months of not being like this. total. forever#i truly think i could sort it out in 3 months
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Hot take: I don't think Shinichi would ever call Kaito "Kai." I don't he's ever called anyone he has cared about a nickname like that before and I don't think he's a nickname type of guy either. If anything, I think him calling you by your first name is the most endearment he can have for you (or "baro" LOL).
Kaito, on the other hand, would definitely call Shinichi "Shin-chan" just for the sake of annoying him LMAO but it's entirely possible that he says it so much that it sticks and Shinichi actually eventually lets him call him that like he does for his mom (and he lets kaito call him all the other terms of endearment too because he's weak like that lmao)
Also, I think Kaito doesn't need to be called Kai. Literally just Shinichi calling him Kaito alone would send butterflies in his stomach. Cause finally the Great Detective is calling me by name!!!! He knows my identity!!!! He knows me!!! Not KID, me!!! Just being called by his real name would already melt Kaito into a puddle that man is a goner.
Also also!!!! I think Shinichi calling Kaito "thief" gets Kaito misty eyed sometimes because Shinichi is Shinichi and he knows I'm a thief and yet he's still here despite it all. LIKEEEE "thief" is a lil funny silly goofy nickname until kaito reflects on the implications and he's all:
OKAY BUT AN EVEN HOTTER TAKE: Who tf cares about all that shit I just said!!!! You can make Shinichi call Kaito "Kai" if that's what you want, go fuckin crazy with it!!!!!
#the only kai i accept is when kaito is fucking in to shinichi and shinichi gets cut off with kai-#đłđłđłđłđł#LMFAOOOOOOO#but fr#i enjoy it eitherway like go crazy with fanfic who cares make shinichi call him kai lmao#i do prefer just kaito tho#i think it's cute and sweet#calling kaito by his real name đ„ș#dc prattles#hotter take: theres actually a nickname for shinichi that isnt shin-chan that i cannot fathom why anyone would think kaito would#call him that but i wont say it because lmao lmao like i said who tf cares go crazy with it!!!!!#i still read that shit tho hell yeah babeeeeyyy eat all them kaishins we are so fed đ„đ„đ„#shinichi calling kaito thief affectionately likeeeee đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđđđđđđđđđ got me crying in the club here fr#the kaito equivalent of that is kaito calling shinichi or conan meitantei instead of just tantei-kun LIKEEEEE YEAHHH#YOU GOT ME TEARY WITH THAT SHIT âđ#thinking about all the other kaishin hcs rotting for months in my drafts but i decided to vomit this shit in one sitting today instead#my pushing daisies aus and kaishin+shinco bros aus when will you see the light of day đ#now im just yapping in the tags....again...lmao
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Hello again Mr. Apollo! Do you have any fandoms youâre a part of? Sorry for my random questions, I just noticed youâve gotten some more serious asks and stuff so I hope a few of these every now and then help lighten the mood a little. :]
~đą
"Well, um... I... like some manga series, and some of the shows based off of them, I guess."
(Not like I want to admit exactly which ones...)
"Other than that, mm... I don't really watch many movies, and I read less than I'd like to. I'm not much of a 'gamer', either."
#~đžđđ€đšđđŁđđđ ..//~ apollo responds#ace attorney ask blog#ask blog#ace attorney#apollo justice#// me sitting here for 5 years trying to think logically what he would like#// ik he references dr who in dialogue but like idk#// i can maybe see him liking FMA? but I also like FMA so that might just be personal preference#// hence why I'm keeping it vague#// clay mightve also got him into some space related ones
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Do you think Solomon likes soup? If so what kind?
idk what prompted this ask, but it's so out of left field I had to answer.
Lots of soup mentioned below the cut.
Firstly, we have to establish whether or not Solomon would eat soup.
The simple answer? Yes, of course he would. If it was served to him at a fancy dinner as a sideâ yes, he would eat it. If you made it for him whilst he was sickly and bedridden? He would give the world back to you⊠or most likely he'd want to return the favor one dayâ huh, what do you mean you don't want him making anything? He feels better now! Hey, why are you pushing him out of the kitchen? :(
One cannot simply ask whether or not Solomon has a favorite soup or not.
Like any person, he has his preferences and whatnot. Solomon prefers the classic savory kinds of soup, as he sees the dish as more of a side or something simple you make when feeling under the weather. Sour and overtly spicy flavors are things he tends to avoid. And with his dislike of the ocean, he reads to me as someone who wouldn't be privy to having any fish or seafood in his soup. Meat or vegetable-based soups are preferred.
Though, the soup he's most caught eating would be those instant noodle packets (with an egg mixed in) that he's totally not making at three am cause he forgot to eat a while ago. Oopsâ
But what kind of soup specifically?
Something that reminds you of home, is a common answer. But, frankly speaking, that guy has a fucky memory, so what can he remember of home? Sure, he does remember that he did have a favorite soup in his youth, but the flavor of which was something that has been lost to time and his old man brain.
So, if Solomon no longer (or has since forgotten) a soup that reminds him of home, what could be put in place of that?
That would be something made by someone he loves dearlyâ now if you read that as being you or someone else in universe, I'll leave it up to reader interpretation.
Hey, if that man's childhood home is lost to time, that's life. Sure, it's a sad thing to witness, but it was bound to happenâ that's just how human civilizations work, they're built up, people flourish, centuries pass by, and then a new one takes its place.
But back on the soup and Solomon calling you his new homeâ home is not always a place, it can be a person (actually it can be a place if you consider 'your heart' a valid location).
Something made by you (whether under duress; looking at Solomon's cooking here) is always something Solomon would like. Of course, he still takes in his own preferences, but he's lucky that you do as well.
Yes, he does tend to delegate soup to be a side dish, but at home he doesn't mind making it the main course. Perhaps it's just him, but there's just something about sharing a warm bowl of soup on a cold night and sharing that with your beloved that⊠strikes him, makes him feel soft in side, and has a smile spreading across his lips as he takes in the moment.
Maybe it's the homemade soup making him feel all warm inside. Maybe it's the private company he's sharing with meal with. He'll never know. What Solomon does know, however, is that, he doesn't mind having soup if it's made by you.
#I'm no soup connoisseur myself just Filipino#I have to remember that not everyone has soup with rice#perhaps his favorite soup was the company he made along the way#onto more specifics though#Solomon would think tomato soup with bread for lunch would be nice#lugaw/congee with a whole bould egg is also nice to have sitting at the dinner table#quick ramen stops (not the instant ones) after class with a few friends is something he enjoys too#though when he's sick he'd want something simple that he doesn't have to put much effort into eating#so like a chicken noodle soup#honestly Solomon reads to me as someone who doesn't have strong âlikeâ preferences when it comes to food#but can definitely list down things he dislikes with ease lmaoooo#im not sure what came over me anon#i saw soup and i had to speak#add here a no beta we die like lilith ao3 tag or smth idk#obey me headcanons#obey me solomon#askice#icespeaks
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damn today has been a shitty day but in a subtle way where i'm not like actively in a bad mood or anything i'm just like "wow!! a lot of inconveniences are occurring!!! that's much more than average"
#woke up at 5am bc of a fire alarm (actually idk if it was a fire alarm or some other kind of building alarm??? all i know is it was loud)#suitemate jokingly made fun of me for going outside rather than staying in the suite during the alarm#''you know it's gonna be nothing'' ok sure but also even if it is nothing why would you willingly sit in a echoey common room#with a loud high pitched alarm going off???#a person who i really like talking to deleted instagram and i realized too late that i don't have any other contact info for them#so now i just have to hope they're coming back soon so they can see my phone number i sent them#and my current roommate (who i'm not close with but is very nice albeit a bit shy) is switching to another room in the suite#so she can live with her friend. and no one's taking her place which would be an objectively good outcome i much prefer a single room#but it still makes me a bit insecure bc everyone in this suite is one big friendgroup and i'm just a random person who got place in here#idk i think i should just try to take a nap i haven't slept since the alarm this morning#i have a bellini zoom planned for tomorrow so i already know that's gonna be better lmao
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Every time someone edits Keith in the black paladin armor an angel loses its wings.
#keith kogane#listen I understand that he needs to be the black paladin but he should be there temporarily#itâs worse when people do it with lance#Iâm sorry but Keith cannot be the black paladin in my mind heart and soul#that spot is RESERVED for SHIRO DAMMIT#HE FAUGHT SO HARD TO BE WITH THE BLACK LION AND YOUR TELLING ME HE DOESNT EVEN GET TO SIT IN HER SEAT ANYMORE????#IM SORRY?? ARE THE LIONS NOT COUNCIOUS??? DID BLACK JUST NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SHIRO AFTERWARDS???#itâs some fucking horse shit#and Lance shouldâve stayed in blue and allura shouldâve gotten red#allura dead ass does not fit within the blue lion#I love her but that woman is a red paladin#I mean even the fucking show jokes about it#lance being in blue fit his character far more and I believe wouldâve led to far more growth#I hate how much people argue about who the better black paladin would be whether it be for Lance or Keith#its shiro#through and through#he ran so Keith could walk bitch#also yes Keith being with the blades is cool and it makes people realize just how much of a pain it is to not have a lion to protect you#to show the true stuggle of those who are still actively fighting against space nazis#that donât rely on a giant robot#but hereâs my thing#I donât like that Keith separated#because I feel like his character goes backwards#I wouldâve preferred Keith actually being there for his teammates and family then almost sacrificing himself over and over again#I also donïżœïżœïżœt think ryou should ever be in the black lion#like piloting#cause heâs not shiro and I think the black lion would know that#I just wish there was more shiro appreciation within the fandom#like how do people not understand that shiro is an amazing leader???#why does he have to get replaced???
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