#i can definitely get behind soldier but i think more often than not he's the king

[floralovebot]

@redemptionarcsucker

NO CAUSE LITERALLY HELIA IS ANYTHING BUT THE POET

I know it would be really easy to assume that Helia is a poet, most obviously due to him actually being a literal poet and yknow. writing poems. Add on that he is genuinely good with his words and it's like! Duh! BUT NO!! A huge part of his character is that he wants to be the poet but he isn't. Helia acts like a poet. He makes a great first impression, he watches people carefully and responds in whatever way will move the situation best, he can be bitterly truthful and secretive all at once. But while that is still part of him, it's also so, so small in comparison to how he feels inside and how he actually acts.

While I have pondered Helia being the soldier, I gravitate much more toward the King. The king archetype is all about the responsibility that you don't want, that you don't deserve, but still feeling so loyal to it that you can't get away. No matter what they truly want in life, the kings will always go back to that responsibility because it's become them, and leaving literally feels like part of them is gone. They believe they have an intense duty to that responsibility and that leaving would make them the worst person in the world. And like,,, anyone with Helia Brain knows that this is him!! It's everything he feels about Red Fountain!!

Being the poet is all about embracing freedom and that's the one thing Helia refuses to do. He can't do it. He feels so intensely loyal to Red Fountain, and now to his friends, that any other option feels like betrayal to him. His own freedom feels like a betrayal. And that's just such a sad king move,,,

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 29] || [Chapter 31]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: injuries + recovery Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: johnny is a filthy man :) but also we love him so is that a problem? no, it's not.

Chapter 30: Playing House

It took a while, but, Simon got healthy, and John and Kyle got their soreness�� settled enough to be able to go back to work.

Johnny, however, needed a little extra TLC. Being shot in the shoulder involved a longer period of medical leave, paired with a long while of physical therapy…

And that means that he decided to make himself your problem.

The rest of the lads left on a mission a few days after being cleared and, as such, left Johnny with you. Not because the lad is incapable of looking after himself, but more so because he, himself, decided he didn’t want to be away from you.

And so, whenever you leave for work, Johnny leaves for PT, then, goes to base for a bit, mostly doing work on things that he can feasibly do without straining his left shoulder/arm… Like doing paperwork and reports, going to the gym for cardio, crunches, and leg and hip workouts… Then he comes home to you.

He goes shopping for you, cooks you dinner, cleans after the two of you, despite your insistence that he rest… But, as it turns out, Johnny isn’t good at that.

Nonetheless, the flat is cleaner than ever before, Johnny’s drawing supplies are permanently stationed on the dining room table, next to your laptop, and some of his clothes have taken a permanent spot in your closet.

And, of course, he spends every night in your bed, spooning you from behind and hiding his face in your neck while you watch tiktoks, talk, or he regale you with the most ridiculous of puns.

In a way, it’s like Johnny MacTavish is your live-in boyfriend. Or, rather, that you’re playing house with him.

You wouldn’t say you hate it. In fact, it’s quite nice to have someone staying with you all night… Johnny is a good partner, he’s helpful and chill and provides wonderful cuddles…

Though you’ve jokingly started calling him ‘Johnny Price’, because, since he hasn’t been working for a month now, he’s let his beard grow out. And he looks like Price more often than he does not.

It’s on week three of your new routine with Johnny when you’re at work, that you get a text from him:

Johnny: guess what bonnie. Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

You definitely should’ve put on some headphones before you watched that video during work… His grunting and groaning was almost pornographic and definitely earned you a few confused/worried looks from your coworkers…

But all you could think of was how he was finally easing back into his arm/shoulder workouts, which meant he finally got cleared by his PT to do as such!

you: did you finally get cleared johnny? 🥺 Johnny: cleared at 50%. Johnny: not there yet. but soon. you: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! 🫶🫶🫶 Johnny: thank ye bonnie  you: this calls for a celebration! Johnny: i like how ye think bonnie but im not cleared yet to be able to manhandle ye 😏 you: get ur mind out of the gutter johnny price!!!!!!!! Johnny: oof not ye still calling me that! you: ur beard is looking like his what do u expect of me! 🙄 Johnny: yer right idk what i expected. Johnny: so about this celebration. you: i was thinking we go out for dinner? Johnny: are we going to dress up nice? you: i wasn’t thinking we’d go somewhere super fancy because i do not have money johnnyyyy Johnny: oh good because i dont think i can button up a shirt my shoulder is sore 😖 you: okay then! nando’s!!! 🫶  you: and i’ll give you a shoulder rub when we get home Johnny: speaking my language bonnie.

And so that’s what you did. You went home in a hurry to shower and change, and, for once, Johnny wasn’t there, having chosen to shower and change at base.

You met up in front of the Nando’s closest to your flat and you immediately chuckled at the sight of him. Sure, he had changed, but he was still very much wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers and a grey zip-up hoodie… Although you could very obviously tell he was naked beneath the hoodie.

“Mo leannan.” He murmured in an exaggeratedly polite tone as he popped the door open for you with his good arm.

“Thank you, my good sir…” You joked, which caused you both to chuckle and shake your head.

You got inside, ordered your food and, as you talked, you site adjacent to him, right on his left side, so you could gently rub his arm with your hand.

“Do you miss the lads?” You ended up asking him as you caressed his bicep and shoulder with your hand, watching him wince a bit at it, because he felt so sore from his first workout.

“A little.” Johnny admitted as he looked toward you. “Do you miss ‘em?” He returned the question. You found yourself nodding in reply.

“Having you here is wonderful though… I… quite miss you lot when you’re all gone together. Not to mention I worry sick for you.” You admitted and pressed your lips together a bit awkwardly.

“You do?” He asked you, to which you nodded. So, he continued. “Well.. I guess I understand. I imagine my mam and sisters worry about me too… As do the Kyle and the Captain’s families.” He conceded.

“That’s actually…” You found yourself trailing off as the waiter brought you your orders and you thanked him, unboxing your food so you could dig in.

“As I was saying…” You trailed off. “That’s actually an interesting point… I feel like I know very little about you and the guys’ when it comes to your personal lives… Outside of hobbies and what you do with me.” You mused as you glanced at him as he dug into his double chicken burger one-handed.

“I don’t know much about the others myself to be honest with you.” Johnny admitted as he stole one of your chips off your plate.

“Really?” You asked softly as you ate your own sandwich yourself, nodding along as he continued speaking.

“We try to keep our… ‘outside’ lives under wraps. Even being a team… what we talk about is always very superficial.” He trailed off.

“So you don’t know anything about the rest of them, nor them about you?” You cocked a brow in confusion.

“Oh, no, bonnie, I talk about myself a whole lot, I’m a blabber mouth, me.” He joked and winked at you. “But family is one of those topics that’s best kept under wraps in our line of work.” He told you as he leaned in, rubbing his thumb on the corner of your mouth to wipe it clean of peri-peri sauce. Then, he sucked his own thumb clean.

“What about me? Do I get to know about you?” You asked him playfully as you leaned forward, setting your elbow on the table as you lean in to him, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Tell ye what, bonnie.” Johnny leaned toward you too, licking his fingers clean and then wiping them on a napkin before he set a hand on your thigh under the table. “Anything I tell ye about my family is not going to do them justice… So how about I take ye up to meet my family over the summer… And ye meet them directly? Could even take the Captain, Simon and Kyle with us.” He offered.

Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the surprise, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

“Meeting your family? Really? Isn’t it a bit early for that…?” You chuckled a bit sheepishly.

“Aye, maybe it is…” He trailed off. “But at this point, I’m basically livin’ wit ye and ye’ve looked after me in sickness, haven’t ye?” He joked. “And I’ve fended off yer ex… so I’ve looked after ye in health, haven’t I?”

Rolling your eyes in amusement, you shook your head. You knew he was just joking, the look in his eyes showed it… “Are you implying that we’re married, Johnny?” You teased him playfully.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off playfully, a playful smirk on his lips. “And, if we were married, not saying that we are,… I’d make sure to take ye home tonight and rearrange yer guts if ye let me, mo leannan.”

Looking away and biting your lip, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shut it…” You trailed off. “You need to rest, your shoulder’s bad still.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use my mouth on ye… and that you can’t be on top.” He added before he grabbed another one of your chips and popped it in his mouth.

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@thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[yandere-sins]

Just read your yandere!Ghost HCs and I am absolutely in love!! What are your thoughts on a shared darling between an all yandere!task force 141? Do you think it will make Ghost less possessive cause he doesn't have to worry about protecting their darling all the time or even more so cause he has to share? 🤔 Also curious about the other members interacting both with their darling and each other.

You're an amazing writer and I love all of your works so much!! Have a lovely day!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your request! ♥ I only did the core members I know of and about, hope that's alright!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Price

♡ John has undisputed dips on you in this dynamic. He doesn't take the active role of caretaker for you, but he gets to hold you first after a mission, be the first to kiss you, and ask if you've eaten and if you were good while he was gone. He's the one giving orders concerning you after consulting with the others, and he's the one to cozy up to if you really want to better your living situation, even though he doesn't easily fall for tricks. You'll have to behave in front of him because the punishments he orders are all the harsher. Putting you into your place never feels more bittersweet than when he gives you both carrot and stick to remind you of your position by his side. That you are nothing without him. That you need him. But as long as you indulge him a little whenever he asks for it, his presence in the group isn't much trouble to you.

♡ Price mostly hands over taking care of you to the boys, laughing when he jokes about "being too old" to clean up after you. But he has that authority no one can argue against. If he wants you in his bed for the night, the others won't complain as they send you to his room, and if he dislikes your attitude, he'll treat you like a rookie soldier in need of some discipline—just without professionalism holding him back. But it's so easy to get along with him if only you let down your pride a bit. When you catch him watching you across the table, get up from whoever's lap you are on and climb on Price's. Allow him to knead your thighs and ass while you cuddle against his chest, and you'll have this grown man melt with affection for you. And when he asks whose bed you want to share that night, never hesitate to ask for his. If he doesn't want to, he'll send you away anyway, but showing him how devoted you are will earn you lots of browny points that might help you out of more complicated situations with the others. Price never forgets what you do—neither good nor bad.

Soap

♡ Soap is, undoubtedly, the social butterfly of the group, and you are his unwilling victim. He so loves to hang out with you, every bit of attention going straight to his ego. Then again, he's also your best bet when it comes to food, bathing, and other basic needs that you want met from your captors. He's the easiest to ask for anything because he wants your attention desperately and will try to fulfill your wishes like a dog trying to impress his owner. He's also your main chaperon around base, gladly escorting you to the kitchen, the bathroom, or wherever the rest of the group is. If no one else claims you for the day or night, his room is basically yours, and you are often collected from it, as John will claim all your time and your sanity if left unchecked.

♡ Regardless, behind all the smiles and jokes, he's definitely the most obsessed. You'll find him wide awake, watching you sleep at night or licking your cutlery after you eat. There have been no fewer than three times that he didn't accompany you into the shower, taking advantage of you whenever he can. It's hard to look into his eyes sometimes, wide open and swirling with madness while he watches you, always right there to catch you when you fall. Soap will gladly lick the blood off your wounds if he's not pulled away by the collar of his shirt. King of not caring what the others think, he's not even realizing how weird he's being, but you know. You know what he does with your underwear at night. You know the crazed rambles he whispers into your ear when he thinks you're asleep. You wholeheartedly believe he's tempering with your food sometimes, and you know there's hell to pay if you make him snap. John will take a lot of screaming and fighting back. However, you still have bruises from the last time his composure cracked, and no amount of him kissing them better helps to forget the way he can and will crack your skull on a wall if you defy him one too many times.

Ghost

♡ The reality is that Simon profits greatly from the arrangement but isn't too keen on it. He'll tolerate it; watch quietly as everyone else salivates over you. But nothing can convince him that any of the guys are better for you than he is. Even if he gives in to Price's authority, Soap's efforts, and Roach's right to you, doesn't mean he thinks they should have you. He's known for stealing you out of beds and sometimes kidnapping you to someplace the others won't find right away to get some undisturbed alone time. However, being with him is terrifying. You won't be able to relax, your heart pounding against your ribcage when you're with him. After all, it's Ghost, and he's a big, unpredictable meanie, at least in your opinion.

♡ Doesn't help that he's usually the one to diffuse any problems the others have with you before taking you with him and giving you the punishment you'll feel for the next few days. The others trust him to do the right thing, to make you obedient and sweet again. And he does, most of the time. There's only so much pain and torture you can endure. But he's also the one to mend your wounds and patch you up, gently asserting authority over you when you get fussy while he helps you stay alive after one of the others caused havoc on your body. You told him so many times you wanted to die, and he was the one to soothe you, hold you until you fell asleep. Sometimes, you think about thanking him. But then you remember his other side, the one that enjoys your pain, enjoys your dependency on him. The Ghost that loves cornering you against walls and kissing you breathlessly while you struggle, the one that broke and put your ankles into casts after you tried to run away. The shadow that is always there to remind you to play nice but who never rewards you in return. He must love you, somewhere, deep inside his shrewd brain. But you hate him with every fiber of your being. He's your worst nightmare, enemy, the bastard of the group. And your savior, protector, and most devoted lover at the same time.

Roach

♡ Gary is the yandere that you want to get along with. Who you actively try to pull on your side against the others, thinking he'd give you some leniency and compassion. After all, he ensures you get what you need when everyone else is too busy fawning over you. He brings in the goods to play with you, and makes you little gifts that you know are from him but he never claims your thanks. Roach is the last escape when you're in for another punishment, and you gladly disregard the fact that he's turning a blind eye to what his mates are doing if it means escaping whatever Soap or Ghost are planning to do with you. He's the eery presence at your back, his eyes always drilling into you, but his hands never forcing you towards him. He feels safe. Safer than anyone else, at least. But still waters are deep, and you don't know how you and his delayed gratification affect him.

♡ You are in for a rude awakening when you run to him, beg him to help you, and plead with him to make the others stop. Suddenly, his hands are all over you, and you are pulled into his lap, tightly secured in his arms, face burying into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. It feels like you're imprisoned in his grasp, your body crushed between his and his arms. He's patient, always laying in wait for you to come to him, so when you do, you are all his. No one dares to disturb him when he traps you against him. The others might sigh and groan but will retreat and give him the time he's owed, considering he never asks for it. And Roach plans to use his time with you wisely, give you all the attention and care he's been holding back or doing in the shadow. You'll belong to him all night long without a second to breathe while he devours you, devotes all his love to you. You'll only be given back once he's done smothering you in suffocating adoration, leaving his marks all over you, and making you thoroughly regret the trust you put into him to help you and protect you. He's just as bad, if not worse than the others, and he'll gladly lure you into the fake sense of safety again with his presence and subtle touches that will keep them away as no one knows when Roach is ready to claim you again. Now that he had a taste, it's hard not to want more...

[howtotrainabraincell]

Head cannons bc I can - Assassin’s body parts preferences (and extras...)

AN: I would just like to say that ALL of the Assassin's will protect their love with their lives, not standing for any disrespect or rudeness toward her in any way shape or form. I may not have put it in the description of every Assassin, but it goes without saying. ALSO, plz don't @ me bc this is my first ever spicy post lol

Altair Ibn La’Ahad - loves burying his face in her neck and grabbing her backside cheekily lol, loves bathing with her but won’t deny that’s it’s hard to control himself around her naked body. Comes to her after a mission (if they didn't go on it together that is or if she's not an assassin) to hold her and just melts against her, grateful to have her and be back in her arms alive. Pulls her away ever so often to a corner where he'll kiss her breathless and then just walk off like nothing happened (this man-), loves to chase lol if she runs from him, it sets something deep and primal off in him, and when he eventually catches her? ����😳😳

Shay Patrick Cormac - definitely breasts lol and has a thing for waists, also loves thighs & has a thing for kissing from the top of her foot to the inside of her thighs, this man can pick up grown soldiers, flip them over his shoulder and then just toss them to the ground like it nothing so he’s strong - tell.me he doesn’t pick up his love and carry her off for some alone time. She won't have to worry about anyone on the Morrigan getting any ideas because Shay has made it VERY clear that she's his and his only. He'll legit fight for her if someone makes her uncomfortable or harasses her and make them regret the day they were born (that is if they can even think afterward bc they'll probably be dead). It - depending on the mood he's in - makes him feel very loved and cared for or very turned on and ready to pin her down, when she kisses the scar over his eye. Don't even get me started on how naughty this fricken man is in Irish Gaelic. (Sir! Control thyself!)

Edward Kenway - an ass man for sure and he loves the thighs too, stands behind her and glares at anyone who checks her out from his spot behind her where he’ll press a possessive kiss to her shoulder while glaring at them. Why do I have feeling that this man has a thing for women who can shoot guns? If she shoots a gun in front of him all pirate-esque he'll literally beg her to step on him haha. Loves him a mouthy feisty woman because not only does it turn.him.on, he gets a kick out of a lovely woman being able to blow someone out of the water with her insults & statements of self-defense. Will also waylay anyone who disrespects her, he'll actually feed them their teeth (don't test him with her)

Jacob Ethan Frye - both the man’s bi lol he can have both if he wants, he for sure does playful butt pats and grabs occasionally but usually when they’re alone (USUALLY & if a Rook bore witness? THEY SAW NOTHING), definitely into holding his love on his lap and whispering dirty things in her ear to fluster her. Will fight to protect her and God help them because they'll have him and the Rooks to deal with (that is if Jacob doesn't crush them and turn them into dust that blows away in the wind lol). Also loves him a feisty and mouthy woman, if she's sarcastic, witty and goofy on top of that? This man is more whipped than whipped cream. Total gentleman even if she can hand his ass to him on a silver platter, he still treats her with utmost respect. Enjoys lying in bed with her and cuddling (give the man all the cuddles STAT) lazily playing with her hair and believe it not - not all kissing with the amorous assassin leads to *wink wink*. He genuinely enjoys laying there with her on a slow day and kissing her sweetly, over and over again. Man is a genuine romantic sweetheart (and nothing will change my mind). It's not an odd occurrence for Evie to wonder where her younger brother is, only to find him conked out on his love's chest just peacefully snoozing away as she holds him reading a book or some files. Totally see him tracing his fingers down her sternum until he reaches her breasts and tracing the insides of them to get her riled up (if he's feeling mean he'll even give a cheeky kiss haha). Also loves to chase her across rooftops and make bets of a spicier nature...

Evie Frye - loves to kiss her loves hands & jaw (particularly that one little spot…) and trace kisses down her sternum, has a habit of cornering her and making out with her lol then she just goes on about her day like nothing happened, plays footsies underneath table surfaces (CHANGE MY MIND). Loves all of her and honestly don't think she would have a preference, Evie's just grateful to have her at all and be with her. Woman was dedicated to being alone as a result of being in the Brotherhood. Think she would get a kick out of witty and playful banter, the more her love speaks the more in love she falls and the more she desires her. She's good with her hands. I said it. Sue me. She.has.good.hands. The woman tis skilled (in more ways than one...) This also pertains to corsets and buttons whether it be doing them or undoing them... Kind think she would like chasing her love through the city too and if it ends up in a garden? The woman internally swoons.

Kassandra of Sparta - breasts she likes pulling her love against her and then looking down to see them pressed against her armor being gorgeous as usual and she loves to grab hips, she will CUT Alcibiades if he looks at her love lol bc she KNOWS what he's thinking about, only lets her hair down around her love and adores laying in between her thighs while her fingers give her a head a very relaxing massage (seriously they can put the woman to sleep lol)

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway - I think we can all agree that this sweet man isn't very sexual BUT once he settles down, he does have an appreciation for his loves figure. Loves to hover over her from behind and kiss the top of her head, and when things get more intimate between them, he loves to give her kisses all over her face. Flowers with him would be a common occurrence, often times she wakes up to beautiful wildflowers on her bedside table or on the pillow beside her. This man is a good provider. And if she takes an interest in hunting with him, more than a few times he'll briefly lose interest in hunting the animal and playfully hunting her instead... Feel like he strokes her legs lovingly and takes his time exploring the sexual feelings he has for her. He would love her breasts because they're beautiful, soft and full of life.

Alexios of Sparta - ass for sure he seems like a butt smacker haha she’ll be minding her own business when he comes out of nowhere and gives her a light loving smack. He comes up behind her and literally sweeps her off her feet - no pleasantries, just "you're mine now" lol

Haytham Kenway - breasts has a thing for tracing the tops of them when she wears dresses to get her riled up all while delivering an “innocent” kiss to her flaming red cheek, will randomly stoop to her level to whisper something 😳 in her ear. Get a vibe that he would spoil her with beautiful jewelry and then woo her until it's the only thing she has on, before taking her to bed... Morning sex seems like the norm for him because he's not always there when she falls asleep arriving home late, but when he sees her in the morning, he more than makes it up to her and greets her in very steamy manner. He reminds her to remain neutral when she stands next to him during a meeting as he sits down with his hand hidden by her dress on her backside gently squeezing and acting completely casual about it the cheeky -

Desmond Miles - breasts & when Shaun stresses him out, he presses his head into them lol it’s stress relieving, comes up behind her and hugs her tightly, definitely into spooning he likes the physical contact, and he melts when she kisses his forehead. Before everything he screwed, but now with the woman he loves? He makes love and thoroughly enjoys every second of it with her. Having her by his side through everything means more to him than he can express.

Arno Victor Dorian - this man feels like a worshipper he would love all of her body and take his time with her, but he does tend to go for breasts more coming out of nowhere and kissing the tops of them reverently throughout the day, definitely takes her hand in his and kisses it with full eye contact to the point where it makes her blush, earning a chuckle from him. Tell me that this man doesn't pull her away to corners throughout the day or on a mission and kiss her before walking away casually like nothing happened lol. Got a feeling he's very into whisking his love away just getting her attention and pulling her away to wherever they can have a few moments alone together. Good kisser. I refuse to believe anything else. He swoops in gives a sweet kiss that leaves her flustered, and he stands there watching her with a smile on his face. For some reason I think he's into the whole secret lover rendezvous thing, aka coming in through his love's window or meeting her secretly (it's exciting and he gets her all alone...)

Ezio Auditore Da Firenze - also feels like a worshipping type of man except everywhere, everything, all the time lol, but he does have a preference for breasts often times hugging his love around the waist and burying his face in them. We've all seen how this man has thing for pinning his lady to the wall...do with it what you will. But he does it to her and OFTEN lol. A little more promiscuous in public - stopping of course if she gets uncomfortable - than others and is not afraid to show how he feels about her. Also, a good kisser. I mean COME ON.

Bayek of Siwa - he loves her breasts because beneath them lies her heart and he cherishes the fact that she has given it to him, loves to star gaze with her - they lay there together peacefully as he tells her about the constellations and their meaning. Loves bathing with her just laying back and relaxing, eyes roving her form as she cleans him and gives him a shave (he refuses to shave unless she does it for him bc he loves her touch and how great her handiwork is). Gives the kinds of kisses that melt her like a stick of butter lol, a kiss from him has a lot of emotion poured into it telling without words how much he loves her.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

I Love You When You Don't Love Yourself

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Self deprication??? People talking shit I dunno

Genre: fluff and maybe angst

Summary: Bucky let's the opinions of random people get in his head a little too much on a night out

***

You take one last look at your makeup in the mirror before deciding you're satisfied with the look.

"You almost ready to go doll?" Bucky asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"Perfect timing. Yeah, I just need to put my heels on." You say standing up and walking over to your shoes which you'd left by your closet. Bucky meets you by them and leans down to slip your heels onto your foot. Oh, how he treats you like a princess.

"You look amazing." He tells you as he stands back up, kissing your temple softly.

"Thank you, so do you." You say. Bucky's hand settles against your back as it always does when you're walking.

"Alright let's get on with this." Bucky says as you leave the tower.

"Do you think everyone's already there?"

"Steve definitely is, Nat probably isn't yet, Tony definitely isn't, Wanda and Vis I'd guess yes. Everyone else is up in the air but everyone's left here."

"Last to go-"

"We won't be the last to leave. Telling you now." He tells you.

"I know." You laugh. "Trust me I have no desire to stay the latest."

The Avengers team has been invited to a charity gala which normally nobody would even think about going to, but after the last several months, you definitely think the team could use the positive press so a number of you are going, to represent the team. It takes you and Bucky 20 minutes to get to the venue and Bucky groans when he sees the red carpet lined with photographers.

"No way there's a red carpet here." He rolls his eyes.

"Of course there is. These galas are a gold mine for PR brownie points." You say. "Just smile baby, if they ask us anything worth answering I can do the talking."

"Works for me." Bucky says leaning over the center console to kiss you quickly before getting out of the car. Bucky hands the keys to the valet as he walks around the front before opening your door. He holds out a hand to help you out and then shifts that hand to your lower back, leading you down the red carpet. You can hear a cluster of voices shouting both of your names behind the disorienting flashes but it's hard to make anything out specifically. That is until you catch one voice above the rest.

"Y/n! What's it like dating the Winter Soldier!?"

You can feel Bucky tense a bit beside you though he tries not to let it show on his face. You flash a bright smile at the sea of photographers and slip your hand behind you to quickly squeeze Bucky's.

"Oh well I wouldn't know, the Winter Soldier doesn't exist anymore." You say easily.

"Are you saying you don't think your boyfriend is dangerous!?" Another voice.

"Not any more than any other avenger. I honestly think that the most volatile of us is Tony! But- for some reason, nobody's worried about the guy who can fit rocket blasters into a briefcase- just the... guy who can punch really hard." You let out a half laugh to lighten the severity of your words but you know you've done what you were trying to do when Bucky pulls you closer subtly and the questions stop. "Ciao!" You add with a light wave. You and Bucky walk the remainder of the carpet, posing every so often until you make it inside.

"The guy who can punch really hard?" He quirks an eyebrow at you once you're inside.

"Well yeah. Don't get me wrong you're plenty dangerous- but we have a god that can summon lightening, a witch that can completely warp reality, a kid who has the strength to throw an entire airplane- and I mean Tony's just some guy comparatively however- that suit of his has military grade weapons and he could at one point carry in a briefcase, I feel like you are not the biggest threat to humanity even in this room."

"You make us all sound dangerous."

"You are. We are. Honestly, the world is just lucky Tony thinks that being a hero comes with more glory than being a villain, and the rest of us have decent moral compasses. The line between hero and villain is pretty thin and when you have abilities people don't understand you are always walking that line. They could turn us into fugitives tomorrow. That's why we do things like charity galas so that's less likely to happen."

"You know we are so lucky you're around because I don't think anyone else would care to protect us in this way." Bucky slings his arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"True but I suppose that's the good thing about a team, everyone offers a different skill set." You shrug with a chuckle.

"You're so amazing." He says kissing your temple.

"Well I have to be, my boyfriend's pretty cool you know." You smile.

"Oh, is he?"

"Yeah, the coolest." You nod.

"He's a lucky man." Bucky chuckles. 

"Sure is. But I think I'm luckier."

I think he'd disagree."

"I'm sure. Let's go find our seats."

"I'll get us drinks first and find you at our table after." Bucky says removing his arm from your shoulder but kissing your hand before he lets you go.

"You sure?"

"I could track you down in a sea of thousands doll, go. I'll see you in a few." He says.

"Something fruity please." You tell him.

"I know what to do." He winks and walks off. You pivot towards the tables to search the name cards for your and Bucky's seats.

"Y/n, hi I'm Noah, I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan of yours." The man, Noah, appeared pretty much out of nowhere.

"Hi Noah, thank you. Just- trying to do what's right." You smile. You'll admit you've not had many adults come up to you and say they're fans?? It's usually kids so you're not sure what's the best approach here.

"Oh you don't have to be so modest! You're a hero! You've earned every right to brag."

"I'm not really the bragging type is all." You chuckle.

"That's so honorable." He nods. You hum in response.

"I'm gonna go find my seat, but it was nice to meet you!"

"Oh did you come alone? Is someone waiting for you?" He asks.

"What?" You blink at him.

"Well just that you're usually always with the one with the arm- the soldier."

"Bucky." You say.

"Right him. I'm just surprised to see you without him." Noah shrugs.

"Oh, he's here. He went to get us drinks."

"Interesting. I'm surprised."

"By what? Like you said we're always together." You shrug.

"Yeah, right, I know I guess I just thought by now you'd wake up."

"Excuse you?" You scoff.

"Oh come on darling, you and I both know you can do way better than that killer you're with now." He smirks placing a hand on your arm.

"If you want to keep that hand I suggest you keep it to yourself because if you touch me again you won't have to worry about 'that killer I'm with' I'll end you myself." You smile back at him.

"Fiesty."

"Yes, I tend to be when you insult my loved ones. Go figure. I'm going to go find my seat now before you dig yourself a hole too deep to climb out of, enjoy your evening." You say before walking away. Perhaps you should've mitigated that without threatening him, if it reflects badly on the team you could be undoing the very thing you came here for and that's usually Tony's area of expertise, oh there's your name but I mean that guy totally had it coming he was being an absolute jerk. How dare he say-

"Found ya." Bucky kisses your cheek as he sits beside you, cutting your train of thought.

"Hey." You smile giving him a peck on the lips. "What'd you get me?"

"I forget the name but it's a vodka cran with peach and lime basically, something from their specialty menu. I thought you'd like it." He shrugs.

"I'm sure it's lovely, thank you." You tell him taking a sip. It is pretty good. "What'd you get yourself?"

"Just a whiskey." He says. "Anything fun happen while I was away?"

"Nope, I ran into some guy before I found our seats but, that's an interaction barely worth mentioning." You roll your eyes.

"Uh oh, what'd he do?"

"Doesn't matter." You say with a kiss. "Have you seen anyone else yet? It looks like none of us are at the same tables." You point out.

"I saw Tony and Pepper's place cards but they're not sitting if they're already here."

"Oh, what table are they at?" You ask.

"It's over there, and don't worry I already told the bartender that Tony is only allowed one drink." Bucky says making you giggle.

"Well, that's a relief. Let's hope he didn't prepare for that restriction." You hum.

"I think Pepper keeps him on a pretty tight leash so it shouldn't be a problem. I just figured you'd rather be safe than sorry."

"When it comes to Tony's alcohol consumption absolutely." You nod.

"Oh my god is that the winter soldier?" You hear a voice whisper next to you.

"I can't believe they let him in here." Another hushed voice responds, making your jaw clench.

"Well I'm not about to sit next to him." Voice one scoffs.

"I'm sure we can get someone to switch with us it's fine. Come on." Voice two says and the two scuttle off.

"Fucking idiots." You roll your eyes. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Oh look there's Vis." Bucky points out the red synthezoid at a table a few rows away from you.

"Okay so we're here, Pepper and Tony should be, Vision and Wanda are there, isn't Steve coming? I wonder where he'll be sitting." You hum.

"I bet he's already in his seat. Look for a bunch of giggling women hovering at a table and we'll probably find him at the center."

"I wonder why they sat us all apart."

"I imagine to promote mingling. All the Avengers at one table would be rather intimidating for the rest of the gala I think. No one would approach us." He shrugs.

"Oh maybe." You hum. You pick up the program sitting on the table to get an idea of how the evening is meant to play out. They'll start with an opening address, then serve dinner, then do the auction items, and the rest of the night will be dancing and mingling. You and Bucky entertain each other at the table until someone begins the night's todos with the opening address. The speech is about five minutes long, thanking guests and talking about the importance of the cause. Dinner orders from the preselected menu are taken quickly and food is brought out within 15 minutes.

"See I told you it was him." You hear a hushed conversation, not at your table but close. Bucky's hand hovers over the fork that he had been reaching for.

"My goodness you were right. That's scary."

"And to think he has a girlfriend walking around like that." That's the line. Bucky stands from your table abruptly and storms off. You hurriedly gather your purse to follow after him but you stop at the table you'd heard the voices coming from.

"If you guys are so bored with your lives that you have nothing better to do than gossip the least you could do is keep your pathetic opinions to yourself." You scoff before walking off to track down your boyfriend.

"Bucky wait." You call when you catch up to him just outside the venue.

"I want to leave." He says.

"It's barely been an hour-"

"And in that time there have been four separate instances of people talking about me like some zoo animal who can't fucking hear them."

"Four?"

"I heard that guy telling you that you can do so much better than the 'killer you're with now', so yeah. Four."

"We'll leave." You nod. Bucky hands his ticket to the valet and it takes almost no time at all for them to bring your car around to the front.

Your drive home is silent, though you rest a comforting hand on Bucky's thigh as he drives. Back in your room at the tower is where the quiet is finally broken.

"I'm sorry." Bucky frowns.

"What on earth for?" You shake your head at him

"I totally ruined the evening. I know this was- important to you that we go." He sighs.

"Don't be ridiculous. There are enough Avengers there to represent the whole team Bucky we didn't have to go, we didn't have to stay. Plus I never want you to be somewhere you don't feel comfortable. The gala is not nearly as important to me as your feelings." You tell him.

"Everything would be so much easier if it wasn't so-"

"Bucky don't. That's a dangerous path to start down. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Stop, y/n. Stop pretending that you don't hate it. If I could still have my normal arm I-"

"Well you don't." You snap, cutting him off.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"You don't have your 'normal arm' Buck, and I didn't even know you when you did. I fell in love with you with the metal one attached to your body, and it's the only you I've ever known. How could you possibly think I hate it?"

"You heard what people were saying tonight-"

"I'm not dating any of them or their opinions. And neither are you. Who gives a fuck what they have to say about it? Don't let them decide what parts of you are worth loving." You say grabbing his face.

"Don't you get tired?"

"No. I'd happily spend the rest of my life clapping back at people's ignorant comments if it meant always coming home to you. I've fought evils those peabrains couldn't even comprehend if they tried, their narrowminded drivel means nothing to me. They're like walking talking gossip rags. Who pays those any attention?" You roll your eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too. All of you. Even with your metal arm and your chaotic history. Don't you dare let random noise make you forget that." You poke his chest.

"Alright alright." He laughs pulling you against his chest into a hug.

***

[bucksangel]

Do Not Fall in Love

pairing: roommate!bucky barnes x roommate!reader

word count: 7.8k

this is a commissioned fic for the lovely @bwhitewolfbarnes <3

warnings: strangers to roommates to lovers, fluff, pining, bucky being a horticulturist bc it’s cute, minor angst, bucky gets hurt and is hospitalized but nothing graphic is described other than the fact that he has cuts and bruises, happy ending

tip jar | masterlist

Sweat starts to bead on your forehead, some sneaking down your neck and causing uncomfortable dampness that results in unpleasant shivers every so often. Your arms are heavy, nearly weak at this point, and your thighs are screaming at you just to sit down, please, I’m so sore.

Soon, you think.

There are only a couple of boxes left, and, thankfully, you haven’t had to carry the heavier ones. You suppose that’s a perk of moving in with a man with super strength - you don’t have to over-exert yourself.

Your new roommate - a mister James Barnes - was nice enough to help out in the move, even driving to your old apartment to get the last of your things and lead you to his - no, your new apartment. It’s not the biggest place, but big enough for two people and not so crowded. The building itself is fairly new, and so far the landlord seems like she’d actually give a shit if something broke in the apartments.

You’ll truly never have any idea of how you managed to find such a nice place with a non-creepy, quiet albeit nice enough man - a handsome one at that.

But you don’t think about that last point. You’re only here so you can help watch over his place, you remind yourself, don’t get too attached.

Anyway, back to moving.

Once you step through the threshold, the central air conditioning immediately hits you in full force. This time, a pleasant shiver runs through your body, the cold is very welcome to the abnormal blistering heat outside.

“You can sit down, you know.” Suddenly, Bucky appears beside you, one of your heavier boxes tucked into his side by his left arm as though it’s no big deal. Which, granted, he is a super soldier, so you don’t doubt that it really isn’t a problem.

“Oh, it’s fine!” Your voice goes high, the shock of him suddenly appearing next to you wearing off once you turn and see his concerned yet amused look. “There are only two boxes left, I can handle it.”

He scoffs, gently setting down the box he’s holding before taking the one from your arms.

“You’re clearly tired, and I don’t need my new roommate passing out on me.” While his tone is playful, you can sense the underlying worry. So, instead of arguing, you give in to him - and your sore body - and make the short walk to the living room to fall onto the couch with a dramatic huff.

Behind you, you hear Bucky chuckling. And when you turn your gaze to him, he’s shaking his head softly. You try to fight your laugh, pressing your lips together. Then, Bucky turns back to the boxes and goes down the hall to your new room to make it easier for you to open and organize them.

And, truly, you’re coming to already like your new living situation. Yeah, you just met the guy so you’re not quite accustomed to how he lives, but it’s definitely already preferable to your old one. You’d been roommates for two years with one of your best friends before your lease was about to renew and she’d decided to move out at the last minute and there is no way you can afford an apartment in New York by yourself. That coupled with the fact that even though you’re friends, living together was a complete mess for almost those entire two years.

Bucky has been nothing but kind to you. From the moment you first came over to check out your potential new place to helping you out in the moving process, it’s been a pretty smooth transition. He is a little quiet, more reserved, but that doesn’t bother you. You understand that you don’t have to be best friends with your roommate as long as you’re cordial with them.

Plus, you’ve done your research, you know the basics of what he’s been through. So the fact that he’s even open to letting a stranger live with him must be a big thing for him, so you’re more than happy to stay out of his way when necessary - even if you do want to get to really know him.

But when Bucky comes back into the living room, he says “I’m going to get the last two boxes, I put the sheets on your bed already. Figured you’d wanna take a nap before taking everything out.” He says it almost timidly, like he’s not sure if he was allowed to even though all he genuinely wants to do is help - he’s been trying to be more open and nicer given his past, maybe it’s part of his retribution to society.

But you give him a small, grateful smile, and he then disappears out of the living room and then the house as he goes to your car to get the last two boxes from your trunk.

Yeah, you don’t have to be friends with your roommate, but something in you tells you that you will be.

____________

You’re drifting in the space between being awake while also asleep. You’re conscious enough to know that you should probably get out of bed but tired enough for your brain to try and convince you to go back to sleep. Something else makes that decision for you. Your arm is shaken gently, and a deep voice in a soft manner calls to you as you catch bits and pieces of the words being spoken.

Dinner. Shower. Unpack.

That’s when your brain catches up with the situation, and finally, you open your eyes. At first, things are fuzzy, but you rub your eyes and let out a soft yawn and that helps your body wake up as well.

“What time is it?”

Bucky chuckles and looks down at his watch. “Almost four.”

Your body sits up almost immediately, eyes wide and your mind running frantically with trying to figure out why Bucky didn’t wake you up. You fell asleep at ten this morning, shit, it’s going to take forever to unpack.

Bucky, sensing your concern, shakes his head. “You were tired, you said you packed up your things and helped your friend move for almost all last week and you worked hard this morning, I figured you needed the sleep. But, it’s okay. I found some of your boxes marked as your clothes and put them in the closet. The others are in the corner.”

Again, he sounds nervous, once again worried that he might have overstepped. He hopes he hasn’t, but he’s ready to apologize nonetheless.

Jesus fucking Christ. Why does he have to be so nice? You internally huff in confusion. You just met him, does he… want anything in return? Then you mentally slap yourself, some people are just nice, stop questioning why.

So, smiling, you say “oh, thanks, James. That’s really thoughtful.”

His eyebrow twitches, not used to people using his first name considering he doesn’t really like it, he doesn’t connect with it anymore. Normally, he’d be a little brash about telling people, ‘it’s Bucky’. But, for reasons unknown, he doesn’t correct you.

Bucky then smiles again - not a full, bright smile, it’s more of an uptick of the corner of his mouth - relieved that you’re not weirded out. Now, why he is so concerned with you being comfortable around him is written off in his head about listening to his therapist and trying to make more friends - which, yeah. He could definitely use some of those, and his tall and broad stature tends to scare people away. But, that’s all it is, he’s sure.

He nods his head then, stepping away from the bed so you can crawl out from under the sheets and stand.

“I’m gonna order pizza, is that okay?”

At the mention of food, your stomach interrupts with a rumble, making both of you chuckle.

“Yeah, pepperoni?”

Bucky nods and steps further towards the door while you go to your closet to pull out a fresh pair of clothes so you can take a shower.

“I’m going to shower, I’ll be out in a bit.”

Once again, he nods, then disappears out of your door and closes it behind you.

____________

After your much-needed shower, you tread down the hall to the living room and look to your left towards the kitchen and see Bucky sitting at the table, three pizza boxes resting in the middle. Again, your stomach rumbles, alerting Bucky of your presence.

Upon reaching the table and sitting down, Bucky grabs the box with the pepperoni pizza and slides it to you, leaving the other boxes - one of which is already half gone - in the middle of the table still.

“I, uh. I eat a lot so I got three so you can have one to yourself.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you grab one of the plates next to the boxes and pile it with pizza, though you leave enough to be used for lunch tomorrow. “Thanks, James.”

He hums, letting you know he heard you. When you look up at him, you can see a small amount of red coloring his face, hidden mostly by his beard that he has yet to properly shave.

Huh.

A small part of your brain tells you he probably likes being appreciated - maybe even praised. And when you think back on all he’s done and do a quick mental run through all of the horrible news articles that have been spread around the world, you start to think that maybe he’s not used to it.

I should start doing it more.

You’re both quiet as you eat, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. That is, until, you clear your throat. “Um, do you have anything to drink?”

Bucky’s head pops up, swallows a mouthful of pizza, and points behind him. “The fridge has orange juice and some sodas, and the cabinet next to it are the cups.”

You send him a smile as you stand from your seat, then go to the fridge.

“I, uh -” Bucky coughs to clear his throat. “I did want to talk about… rules, I guess.” Internally, he winces at how awkward that sounds.

“Oh,” You come back around to sit back in your chair. “That makes sense. What are you thinking of?”

He glances down at his pizza, then reminds himself that eye contact is important in the friend-making department. So, he holds your gaze as he lists off his rules.

One. While it is your new apartment, it is still also his, despite the fact that he’s away on missions occasionally. So, cleaning up after yourselves is important. Keep things tidy. Nothing just laying around if it doesn’t need to be. Things like that.

Two. Because he’ll be away on missions, he won’t have time to get groceries. You’d been designated with the task, however, Bucky was kind enough to tell you he’d leave money for whenever you did need to. When it came to both being home, you would switch on doing the cooking, though the way he spoke about it made you believe he doesn’t really know how to.

Three. When Bucky is away, he’ll always text or call you to let you know when he’s coming back. That was more so your suggestion, you wouldn’t want to be caught off-guard if he came home and you thought someone was breaking in.

Four. No parties. Three friends max are allowed when Bucky isn’t there because he really, really doesn’t need any more noise complaints. Which works out fine with you, you don’t have too many friends and you’re typically either too busy working or sleeping to have any so-called parties.

Once the rules have been set down and agreed upon the food is almost completely gone, which prompts the both of you to start clearing the table.

“Thank you for the pizza, James,” You smile at him, not missing the twitch in his brow and the clench of his jaw. Luckily he has his head turned enough so you can’t see how flushed his face is getting, well, you can’t see most of his face.

“Um. No -” Bucky pauses to clear his throat nervously, “it’s no problem.”

You hum, placing the rest of the food in the fridge while Bucky works on the dishes.

“So, I know it’s still a little early, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” You catch Bucky’s eyes as he glances up at you, smiling at him again. “Thanks, again. For everything, you’ve been really helpful.”

Bucky ducks his head down, face growing more and more flushed as his body grows warm with the gratefulness that he’s never - not that he can even remember - received, yet deep down has always craved.

He nods his head, mumbling a “goodnight,” and then listens to you wander down the hallway to your room.

____________

The first mission he goes on is only two weeks later. In that time, he’s shown you his spare room - filled with different plants and flowers and a very elaborate cat tree housing a very sleepy cat. He’s verbally told you how he takes care of them, but given that it’s a lot of work he was nice enough to write everything down.

It seemed like he was hesitant at first to show you, after all, horticulture isn’t exactly a hobby most would assume an unofficial avenger would have. Somehow, though, it fits him. His timidity, you’ve concluded, stems mainly from his arm.

Bucky seems scared - terrified, really - of hurting anyone or anything with it. Sure, he doesn’t have too much of a problem showing it off around the house, but you’ve come to notice he doesn’t hold much with the metal hand. 

But seeing him working with the flowers makes you believe that maybe he’s trying, with all his might, to teach himself that he can be gentle. And from how he plays with Alpine - his precious cat - you know he’s far more gentle than he gives himself credit for.

But he’s been gone for almost a week now, and you can, thankfully, say that you haven’t killed any of his plants. You’ve actually seemed to make friends with Alpine, much to Bucky’s confusion. The cat - in Bucky’s own words - is much like him, reserved and more content in her own space. Apparently, you now qualify as ‘her space’.

It’s eight in the evening when you get a text from Bucky telling you the mission was successful and that he’d be home by eleven that night.

And, assuming he’ll be too tired and drained to even eat, let alone cook, you make a split-second decision to cook for him as a ‘thank you for letting me stay here at a very reasonable price’.

Running over the decisions in your head, and pulling ideas from what he’s told you his favorite foods are, you decide on hamburgers. Easy enough and just greasy enough to fill his stomach after what you assume to be days of not eating much. 

It’s ten-fifty by the time Bucky comes walking through the door with a huff. He closes it as quietly as he can, then comes tip-toeing down the hall before reaching the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. And you’re about to ask how he was able to be so quiet while being so - for lack of a better word - huge. But then you remember that being a super-soldier as well as a very well-trained assassin probably helps. So instead of questioning him, you smile.

“I figured you’d be too tired to cook so I made food!” Your smile widens as Bucky offers you a small one of his own.

He pauses, seemingly thinking something over, before nodding. 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you, doll.”

Both of you freeze, moreso Bucky, his eyes widening and his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously. But before he can panic too badly, you put him out of his misery because, to be honest, it feels… good. You like it.

“It was no trouble, James.” You finish plating the food for him, move to set it on the kitchen table, and then go back to start clearing up the mess.

“You don’t need to do that,” Bucky says softly, sitting at the table and staring at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I can do it when I finish eating.”

You sigh wistfully, shaking your head as you smile, more to yourself than anything.

“I do need to. I made the mess.” Then, turning to look at him, you shoot him a wink. “Plus, no offense but you look like death. I’d rather you eat, shower, and go to bed than spend extra time doing something I am capable of handling.”

This pulls a laugh out of him, not quite loud and hearty, but enough to show he appreciates your efforts.

“Alright then, clean as much as you want,” He chuckles again, then returns to his burger, piled with every topping you know he likes.

Nodding resolutely, you resume cleaning. Both of you work in comfortable silence, the only noise being the soft clanking of the dishes in the sink as you hand-wash them. Bucky’s given up on telling you that there’s a dishwasher for a reason, because why would you use it for only a few dishes? Come on, James, think smart.

Once the dishes have been put away, you make your way to the hallway leading to your room, not before sparing one last glance at Bucky.

He’s also looking at you, though, with another unreadable expression.

“Goodnight, James,” You say, barely above a whisper. And despite your best efforts to not let it get to you, you can’t help but feel giddy when he murmurs “goodnight, doll.”

____________

It’s another two months until Bucky has to go on an extended mission. And in that time you’ve grown closer to him. It’s been a tad bit tough cracking his shell, but so far he’s been nothing but kind to you when you ask menial questions about his job or his hobbies, giving you as much information as he wants before you sense his uncomfortableness with the conversation and promptly stop.

But he’s warmed up to you rather quickly, something you find comforting in a way it probably shouldn’t. He’s also a good listener, and - quite surprisingly - really good at cracking jokes. He doesn’t complain when he wanders out of his room and ends up stuck listening to you rant about your day.

At first, it seemed like he was ignoring you like you were just talking to yourself. But you quickly realized that he is listening, while he may not be looking directly at you the entire time you speak, you notice he hums every once in a while to let you know he’s still there, even chuckling when you told him about how you walked into the kitchen island and bruised your hip. You quickly defended yourself, though, insisting that Bucky must have moved it because you are not clumsy, thank you very much.

He does still spend a lot of time in his room, though, or in the spare. Multiple times you’ve caught him watering his plants, mumbling softly to them while he tries to shoo a very interested Alpine away from eating the leaves.

Upon later research, you learn that some people think that speaking kindly to plants helps them grow. Now, you’re not too sure about that, but watching a six-foot-something man murmuring lovingly at some carnations is both humorous and adorable.

And despite your best conscious effort to not fall for the man you’re technically only a roommate with - the term ‘friends’ flashes in your mind every once in a while though - you just can’t help it. 

He’s nice, one of the nicest men you’ve ever met in fact. He’s funny, even telling you stories of when he was in the war and how he was almost genuinely considering stripping for a pack of cigarettes.

It seems like he’s had an easier time talking to you than you’d expected, but maybe your assumptions about him had been wrong - the stoic, closed-off man that the media portrayed him to be had all been lies, of course. Because despite him not speaking too much, he’s been a joy to be around when you do cross paths.

But when he comes home from his extended mission you get a notification that he’ll be coming home in about three hours - but it’s from a number you don’t recognize. And whoever was on the other end had talked about Bucky in the third person, and something akin to uneasiness settled deep in your stomach because why wouldn’t he text you himself? Is he okay?

The message had been short and there was no response when you’d texted back to ask if he was okay. You spent those three hours idly cleaning despite there not being much of a mess, it was mainly to keep yourself busy while you waited for Bucky to return.

And when he does return, you realize why he hadn’t been able to be the one to text you. His flesh hand is bandaged, though you can see a little blood seeping through. His face has a cut all along the cheekbone, and he’s limping ever so slightly.

Immediately your brain switches into mother-hen mode. Without even thinking you run to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, before running back to Bucky, who’s leaning against the kitchen island. His metal hand is pressed against his side, eyebrows furrowed in pain, and breathing steadily so as to, presumably, calm himself enough to let his body heal itself naturally.

You don’t consider the fact that his super-soldier serum is going to heal all of his wounds by tomorrow, you’re more concerned with how he is now.

“Come here,” You say, in a sharper tone than you intended. Immediately, and without thinking, you grab his metal hand to pull him to the couch, something you’ve never done. It hasn’t really crossed your mind but Bucky has been very careful with not touching you with his metal arm - though he doesn’t really touch you at all unless it’s to steady you when he passes by and gets a little too close to knocking you down with his big frame.

As gently as possible, you push him to sit down on the couch, eyes frantically searching for the worst injuries so you can tend to those first.

“It’s fine,” Bucky chokes out, almost in a daze. “The doctor at the tower fixed me up, it’s just going to take some time for it to heal fully.”

You don’t really hear him though, because the blood seeping through the bandages on his hand is becoming more prominent, and you immediately drop to your knees and pull the kit to your side. You, very carefully, take hold of his hand and pull it towards you, already starting to unwrap the gauze.

“I don’t know how to stitch, but I know we have butterfly bandages and creams and antiseptic, it should be able to help. And I can re-wrap it, oh! I’ll have to grab the cotton pads and a damp cloth, just wait here!”

You can’t help the words from pouring out of your mouth. But, to your credit, you’ve never seen anyone in this bad of a shape. And your natural anxiety mixed with the man you’re definitely not crushing hard on being the one hurt spikes a small amount of fear deep within you.

“Doll,” He says, both exhausted and in pain. “I swear, I’m going to be fine.”

Finally, you look up at his face, staring into his eyes and searching for any amount of untruthfulness but only finding desperation. Sighing, you loosen your grip on Bucky’s hand but don’t let go of it completely. You’re cradling it between your own and looking at him with concerned eyes.

After a moment of silence, you place your right hand on Bucky’s metal one and squeeze softly. You know that he can’t technically feel it, but he seems to understand the gesture when he offers you a small smile.

“Will you at least let me check your hand?” You ask in a soft voice, merely above a whisper. “For my own sake?”

Bucky thinks it over in his head, though it doesn’t take long for him to nod. Your eyes and puppy dog pout pull him in, especially when you add “please, James.”

“Okay,” He, again, speaks softly, holding your gaze with an unreadable expression that you’re trying very hard not to try and decipher.

With a nod and a small smile, you remove your hands from his own and pull out the first aid kit, all the while Bucky has his eyes trained on you.

____________

Another two months go by and you can honestly say that Bucky is your friend, and more importantly, he considers you his friend too. Around a week ago you heard him on the phone telling the person on the other end that he had plans that night with ‘his roommate.’

A moment later he says ‘yea, she’s really nice… yeah I-I guess we’re friends… Yes, Sam, I have friends… no I did not pay her to live with me… Sam, I ju - yes, okay. Yes, she’s pre - I really don’t see how that factors into any… listen I have to go’ and promptly hangs up.

At the time you couldn’t help but feel… giddy? You didn’t know which emotion was running through your body, but you’re sure it was positive. Though there was one immediate thought that popped into your head.

‘Yes, she’s pre-‘. What was the rest of that sentence going to be?

Logically, you know what the rest was going to be, but you’re trying your hardest to not get your hopes up. He could just be saying that you’re ‘pretty cool’ or something along those lines, but part of you wishes it wasn’t.

And, to be fair, you’ve done a great job so far at convincing yourself that you definitely do not have a crush on your roommate. Because if you did then that would surely cause problems. One is that you’d have to move out. Truthfully, if you let yourself accept that your feelings for Bucky run deeper than friendship you’re not too sure if you could stand being around him knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way.

Of course, maybe he does. But you’re pretty confident that he’s not looking to date anyone. He hasn’t mentioned that he’s dating anyone currently, and he’s even told you that he hasn't dated anyone since he got out of Hydra’s hold.

How could you suddenly change that?

For the rest of the day, you’d been in a weird headspace. Really, it’s been a whole week of overthinking.

He thinks I’m pretty.

Stop that, he could have been complimenting my personality or something.

No, but he definitely thinks I’m pretty. He blushes any time I smile at him! He calls me ‘doll’!

I’m reading too much into this. Calm. Down.

And, unfortunately for you, Bucky has picked up on your mood shift. Ever since he started hanging out with you more he’s been able to pick up on a few of your tells. Plus, he’s a trained ex-assassin, of course he’d be able to notice.

Thankfully Bucky hasn’t commented on it though, seemingly waiting for you to bring it up. But you don’t. And you’re determined to never speak of the growing realization that maybe being around Bucky so much, being able to get to know who he really is, has deepened your feelings for him far more than you are willing to tell anyone.

You’ve been pushing through it though, spending nights fighting with yourself over if you should just admit your feelings or suppress them to the point where you can pretend they don’t exist like how you used to be able. You still spend time with him, forcing him to watch classic movies he’s never heard of in exchange for watching old black-and-white movies that make him laugh yet leave you confused.

And throughout these past months, you can’t help but feel happy and proud that you’ve managed to get Bucky to trust you, to laugh with and at you, to smile. And even if it’s sometimes awkward, it’s still frustratingly endearing.

It seems to get worse on one Monday at three in the morning when Bucky walks into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and geared up in mission attire.

“Hey, doll. I-“ He cuts himself off, coughing slightly as though he’s shocked. 

Turning from your spot near the fridge you see him staring at you, wide eyed and a flush covering his body. For a moment you wonder why he’s frozen, why he’s suddenly stopped talking and looks like a deer in headlights.

That’s when you look down and realize you’re wearing a big t-shirt, underwear, and no pants.

Fuck. 

The shirt is, thankfully, big enough to rest a little below your mid-thigh. Yet it still doesn’t stop the onset of humility and embarrassment. A wave of warmth covers your body, suddenly becoming almost unbearably hot with how nervous you’ve just become.

“Uh, I was.. I was just getting some juice and I didn’t think you’d be up,” Your voice is surprisingly even given the nerves wracking your body, even more so when you catch Bucky staring at your legs with… longing?

For a small moment, no one speaks. The only sound that can be heard is your breathing and Bucky coughing to clear his throat.

“N-no it’s - it’s fine. I mean, you live here too I guess so…”

“Still, I’m, uh, sorry I guess.” Internally, you cringe. What exactly are you apologizing for? You’re not too sure. But amidst the voices in your head all screaming at you to run, go back to your room, no, stay here, let Bucky look at you like you’re a treasure to be held.

Wait. Huh? That look in Bucky’s eyes couldn’t possibly be that, no. You’re imagining things. But, amidst your internal panic you almost miss what he says next.

“No, it’s fine.” He pauses, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip for a split second before holding your gaze. “I promise.”

Again, silence, awkward and tense. And you attempt to break it with “so, how long will you be gone?”

Bucky forces a smile, and you know he hates going on missions. While he does enjoy saving the world and repenting for his sins, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. It doesn’t help that when he comes back he’s usually a little battered and unwilling to speak more than a few sentences.

You don’t blame him, though. You couldn’t even imagine what he goes through so you’re content to stay on the sidelines, helping when you can.

“About two weeks.”

And something inside you hurts, knowing the Bucky will be gone for two whole weeks makes you uneasy, mainly because you don’t know what’s going to happen to him - as though you ever do. All you can do whenever he’s gone is hope that he’ll come back, bruised and battered is far better than not coming back at all.

You care for him as a friend - much more than a friend albeit - but a friend nonetheless. No one, especially a man who’s been through as much as he has, deserves the weight he carries.

“Oh, I hope it goes well. I don’t need you dying on me, James.” Your poor attempt at a joke actually succeeds as Bucky chuckles.

“Thanks, doll. I’ll try my best.”

Then, after holding his gaze for another moment, you turn back to the fridge. You lean in to get the orange juice you’d made yesterday, and choked off gasp sounds through the air. Only too late do you realize that your shirt had ridden up slightly and probably, definitely gave him a small view of your ass.

Quickly standing up straight you go for the cabinets to get a glass, flat out refusing to look at Bucky out of mortification. Why do you have to make things so awkward?

“Well, I'm, uh. I’m gonna go, I’ll update you when I can.”

With that, he rushes out the door. And when you sneak a glance to your right you see Bucky now holding his bag to where it’s pressed to his front.

And you’re left with a flush covering your entire body and a mind full of confusion.

____________

The first week Bucky is away is uneventful. You spend your days either at work or at home taking care of Bucky’s plants and Alpine. You’ve started taking after Bucky in the sense that you whisper lovingly to his plants. You’re not entirely convinced that this actually works, but you’ll be damned if you let any of them die.

You spend more time in your room than usual, finding it too boring to be out in the living room with a large space yet nothing in particular to do. You still make sure to keep your door open so that Alpine can come and go as she pleases - though she ends up staying, most times curled up at the end of your bed cuddled into one of your blankets she’s now deemed hers.

Bucky manages to text you one time from a burner phone that week. A short “everything’s good, Sam’s an ass but that’s typical. Going to try and get back earlier but I don’t know if Steve understands what ‘in and out’ means. Stay safe, doll.”

That last bit made you laugh. The fact that he is telling you to be safe is funnier than it should be. But then again, you’ve come to know that Bucky is a little - a lot - old-fashioned. So making sure you’re okay is probably just one of his Things.

The second week is a little more stressful. Work is piling up and you’re starting to have a perpetual headache, starting from the moment you get into work until the time you’re able to leave.

There’s also been your coworker, Aaron, who’s ‘conveniently’ always where you are, ready to give you backhanded compliments as his weird version of flirting. His smile hides something dark, like he has ulterior motives other than trying to sleep with you. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

Bucky also hasn’t texted or called you since the previous week's update. It’s already Friday and while you know you shouldn’t worry too much - after all, crime-fighting doesn’t have a set schedule - you can’t help but have some sort of uneasiness.

But you brush it off as a product of your stress from the week. You’ll give it another few days. But even then, who would you be able to call if he doesn’t return? What are you supposed to do if he doesn’t?

Friday turns to Saturday, then Sunday, and then it’s Monday again, two weeks from the day that Bucky left, and you can’t help but let your worry rise. And, yeah, you two didn’t specifically agree on texting often, but based on his previous missions you’d assumed he’d be in contact with you more often.

Somehow, Thursday comes around in the blink of an eye. Granted, you’ve buried your head in work to try and finish the foot-high stack of files that your coworkers seem to only add to, trusting you to finish their work.

It’s on this Thursday, about two and a half weeks after Bucky left, that you get a call when you’re in the break room during your lunch. It’s from an unknown number, so you’re flooded with relief knowing that it’s Bucky.

Except, no. It’s not. As soon as you answer, you’re barely able to get out ‘hello’ before a voice whom you’ve come to recognize as Steve starts whispering.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re at work. But, Buck’s been hurt pretty bad. We’re flying him to our Compound so the doctors can patch him up, but…” He trails off, almost uncertain as to whether he should finish the sentence.

“But what? What happened?” You’re almost frantic with worry, wondering how bad Bucky’s been hurt, wondering if his injuries were the reason he didn’t make contact last week, praying that Steve isn’t about to give you even worse news.

“It doesn’t look too good. I can’t say much, but I know how much he cares about you. I think it’d be best if you could be here for him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Time freezes.

How much he cares about you?

And then his first words finally register.

It doesn’t look too good.

Fuck.

Without even thinking you rush to place your phone between your shoulder and ear so you can use both of your hands to clear up your food.

“O-Of course, yeah.” You’re already in the process of heading towards your office when Steve speaks up again.

“Thanks, I’ll send you the address.”

He hangs up, and then you run into your office, packing up your essentials while somehow managing to text your boss that you’re suddenly sick, that you won’t be at work tomorrow either - you’re trying to be optimistic and assume that Bucky will pull through, therefore taking time off of work to be with him seems logical.

It’s on the drive over to the compound that you think of the past several months you’ve spent with Bucky. Not only has living with him been smoother than you could’ve ever imagined, but getting closer to him, becoming his friend, has easily made its way to your top ten list of things that bring you happiness.

And that’s when you come to the conclusion that, yes, you do love him. Immensely so. And now, knowing that he might not make it, makes you want to cry, to scream. At this point you don’t care about making things awkward between you two - although, signs seem to point towards him reciprocating at least some of your feelings.

God you hope he does. Because if he does live, you’ll tell him. You’ll admit it to him, to anyone who asks, because losing him like this would be far worse than just losing him as a friend. 

It takes thirty minutes to get to the compound, an extra ten to convince the security that you’re here for Bucky, that you’re not some obsessed fan or a secret assassin. Only when Steve comes into the main lobby does the guard let you go with Steve.

“He’s in surgery right now.” Is what Steve says, voice a little shaky despite him trying his best to stay calm. 

“Okay,” you murmur, following Steve through hallways, up elevators, down more hallways, before finally finding the medical wing.

People step aside as the two of you walk to where the rest of the team are waiting very impatiently outside the operating room's door. You get a few small smiles, but other than a simple few “hi”’s everyone stays tensely silent.

It takes several hours - five, to be exact - for the doctor, whose badge reads Helen Cho, to come out with a hopeful look on her face.

“We’ve stabilized him.”

At this, everyone visibly relaxes, sighs of relief echoing through the hallway.

“He’s in recovery right now, and then he’ll be moved to a regular room. He’s in and out of sleep, but one person at a time can go in and visit him.”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are shifting back and forth from you and Steve. Steve’s eyes, however, are focused on you. He nods towards Helen, silently giving you permission to be the first person to see him.

“Are you sure?”

Steve smiles and nods. “Yeah, he’d much rather see you than me, I’ve been busting his ass too hard the last few weeks.”

You give him an awkward smile, glancing around at everyone and trying to ignore their knowing looks.

So you stand and follow Helen down another hallway, stopping outside of a door reading James B. Barnes. 

For a moment you stay planted to the floor, unable to get the horrible images you’ve imagined Bucky to be in out of your mind. But Helen opens the door and gives your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving.

So, taking a deep breath, you step into the room, your eyes filling with tears at the sight in front of you.

Bucky’s right arm is bruised with cuts deep enough that even his serum won’t be able to heal overnight. He has a black eye, a busted lip, and another scar running across his cheekbone. He looks paler too, but blood loss can do that to you.

All in all, he looks worse for wear. But his condition right now is definitely preferable to him being dead.

“Hhngg.”

At the sound of a soft, but hearty groan, you rush to Bucky’s bedside, immediately grabbing his metal hand without thought.

“James?” Your voice is low and soft, very careful to not be too loud and cause his head to hurt even more than you’re sure it already does.

“Doll?” His eyes blink slowly, squinting when he finally registers the bright light bearing down on him. “Can you turn down the sun?”

Despite the situation you can’t help but laugh. The sedatives must really be strong if it has a super soldier loopy and almost delirious.

“It’s not the sun, James,” You chuckle, squeezing his hand though you’re aware he can’t feel it. “It’s just a lightbulb.”

“Oh,” Bucky sounds confused, eyes squinting again before turning to you fully. His eyes widen, lips curling into as much of a smile as he can muster through the pain and medicines.”You’re here!”

Nodding, you give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, well I told you not to die and yet you almost did. I had to come and give you shit for it.” And despite your light-hearted nature, you can’t help that your voice quivers on ‘die’.

Bucky’s smile doesn’t falter, but he does attempt to reach for you with his bad arm, which results in you quickly leaning over him so you can place his arm back down.

“Don’t move too much, James. I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore than you already are.”

Bucky now frowns, making a confused sound and pausing for a moment before his face lights up like he’s been enlightened. “Then just get up here with me! C’mon, I need cuddles to help.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused, and you start shaking your head - mainly because you don’t want to hurt him further, but also because you’re not too sure that you can keep your cool if you were to be pressed up against him.

But Bucky’s pout is too adorable and yet heartbreaking to resist.

“Pleassssee.”

Sighing, you concede.

“Scoot over then,” At your words, his smile returns, and he does a shimmy to scoot over on the bed that’s too cute for the situation.

After about a solid minute of manouvering you’re finally able to climb onto the bed and lay next to Bucky. Which was a mistake on your part. Bucky huffs and does his best to pull you on top of the good side of his body, which you go willingly, unable to resist the hold he has over you.

“Mmmm, yay,” His voice gives away that he’s still not fully mentally here, but something in you knows that he’s aware enough to know the situation you’re in.

Silence envelops the both of you, and you’re suddenly overcome with a wave of relief. Finally being able to touch him the way you’ve wanted coupled with the fact that you’re now able to realize that Bucky is alive and he’ll be okay just does something to start off the waterworks. And you’re now unable to stop the tears that have been built up ever since you got the call.

It turns into full on sobbing into his chest, your fingers clutching his hospital gown as though he’ll disappear any minute. The absolute horror you felt, the dread, the anxiety of knowing that Bucky might have died finally hits you. And you’re unable to stop, meaning you’re unable to hear Bucky calling for you, concerned and confused. Your body shakes, whether by the tears or his hand trying to shake you out of your sadness is unclear.

But then Bucky decides a good way to get you to stop crying is by lifting his shoulder so your head turns upward, using his bandaged hand as best as he can to steady your head as he kisses you.

He kisses you.

Bucky is kissing you. What the fuck?

For a moment you’re too stunned to do anything but succumb to his will, letting him kiss you with a gentleness you’re not surprised by. Though his tough exterior scares many, you are one of the few lucky enough to know that he’s a softie, that he can be gentle when he wants to be.

But a few moments later you snap out of your trance, pulling back as much as Bucky will allow to look at him with confused eyes.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Bucky shrugs, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t know. You were crying and I don’t like it when you cry so I thought that would work. Plus, I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” He says this like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And you’re desperately trying to convince yourself that this is just a product of his medicine - something that hurts you dearly - but you know your James, he wouldn’t do something he doesn’t want.

“You want to kiss me?”

“Of course. You’re so pretty and kind and funny and, god you’re so amazing. You treat me like I’m just a normal person, you tease me and laugh at my dumb jokes that I know you don’t really find that funny. And I just..”

He gets cut off abruptly by your lips pressing against his, swallowing his shocked gasp. And you continue to kiss him for another minute - minutes? hours? who knows - before pulling back minutely.

“James?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, doll?” Through the anaesthetics he sounds frustratingly smug, and you decide to let him. You can’t deny that your own ego has swelled at knowing that this man, not a perfect one, but perfect for you, wants you, wants to kiss and hold you.

“I really like you.”

You feel him smile against your lips, he gives you another chaste kiss and then pulls away just enough to get a good look at you.

“I really like you too.”

Another moment of silence, both of you basking in the unusual turn of events that lead to finally having Bucky like apparently both of you have wanted.

“I swear to god, though. If you ever scare me like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

[dykealloy]

spoilers up to the end of dressrosa arc here but. I can't stop thinking about how Law takes on Rosinante's will. Corasan freed him from Doflamingo and the marines and the world government and everyone that ever could have touched him at the time, but has Law really felt free? “Everything I do until I die represents what Corasan achieved” is sweet until you recognise that Law is willing (and planned) to go to the grave for that belief. Until Doflamingo dies there is always a part of him stuck in that treasure chest, constrained by what Law felt happened to Corasan due to him that day.

It's crazy how textbook survivors guilt victim Law is (I’m new here so I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the first time this has been brought up), but let’s just quickly go over some symptoms:

Obsessive thoughts about the traumatic event ✅ (will go over this in greater detail below)

A sense of disconnection or detachment/need to isolate oneself from others ✅ (Law doesn't fully isolate himself but he definitely has his walls up at all times, though there are often subtle hints of him enjoying the company of the people he chooses to surround himself with. He is notably more reserved, emotionally unavailable, cold and distant than others around him, and watching closely you'll notice that even physically he has a tendency to situate himself three steps behind the group)

Insomnia, nightmares, flashbacks of the traumatic event ✅ (if we can assume some of his backstory expressed in Dressrosa are flashbacks, and also assuming that the perpetual eyeliner he wears are covering some pretty heavy eyebags. Also mention that the only time we see him resting is against Sunny's mast on the way to Dressrosa - and that was 1. a filler episode, and 2. if he was sleeping, it was very quickly interrupted by an attack by petplay guy - a nightmare in of itself)

Irritability and anger ✅ (though elements of this could just be attributed to Law's personality or a natural response to the straw hat's shenanigans, as well as Luffy's total inability to stick to a reasonable plan)

Feelings of despair and thoughts of suicide ✅ (that's Law's Dressrosa arc babe)

Now, there's many reasons why Law is unable to move past this guilt (an apparent lack of therapists in one piece being one of them) - but his inability to believe in unconditional love is likely the biggest offender.

Law may have started off (initially) with one of the most fortunate, stable beginnings, with a loving family and a big house in a rich country (wealth of which was built off the back of lies and corruption and the murder of innocent future generations - we'll get there). But he had a mother and a father who loved and nurtured Law (and were both highly respected doctors in their own right who citizens trusted and relied on). Law's happy beginnings really juxtapose the unfathomable horror that had been lying in wait in Flevance.

Even when shit started to hit the fan, at a very young age (<10 yrs old), Law was already stepping up and showing love for his little sister (lying to her when she was on her deathbed, knowing full well he would likely face the same fate after reading his charts, putting on a brave face for her so she wouldn't be afraid when the screams began to reach their front door, hiding her away when soldiers sieged their home and rushing to check on his parents). Given everything that happened in Flevance, it's completely understandable that, while Law will likely never forget the love his family gave him, remembering it became twisted in the lasting memories of his home — parents riddled with bullet holes. a closet holding a sick little sister waiting for him in a house engulfed by flames. stumbling through a town of friends, neighbours, just... people he used to pass by on the street, now all dead.

Seeing hell, knowing why and how it transpired, who were responsible (spoilers, the World Government; the same body that most citizens believe exist to protect them — yeah, sister "a merciful hand of salvation waiting to help" were perhaps the worst possible combination of words you could have left Law with here. Likely instrumental in having him lose his faith "I don't believe in anything anymore."), knowing he is the only survivor, and fated to die anyway due to the terminal illness that is slowly killing him because some figureheads years back were greedy and the governing powers above the figureheads were willing to cover up everything if it meant garnering a portion of wealth and maintaining influence and control. It's beyond grief, beyond rage. And there's absolutely nowhere Law can put it. No one he can retaliate against. Who could come out of hell knowing this and not want to see the world burn?

So, smart little Law escapes under a pile of bodies and goes to the one person infamously revered for being in the business of that kind of thing. And boy oh boy I can only begin to imagine how a young and impressionable Law - fresh from a genocide, with a hole in his heart and a hatred for everything still alive - had his concept of love warped whilst surviving those two years around Doflamingo and his family. A family where members are only welcome so far as they are useful to Doflamingo and his aspirations. Of course Law's going to pick up some fucked up ideas about how love works outside this little white fence he grew up and watched burn down.

Then. Enter Corazon.

Their relationship may begin on shaky legs (near-juvenicide via defenestration in a failed attempt to ward Law away from sticking around) but Corazon quickly becomes the one person in the world Law can trust and rely on again. And Rosinante can only do so much in terms of healing and guiding this broken kid (yes, his position both as Doffy's brother and as a double agent made things difficult, but need I mention he was only 26! 26 when he died!) but he showed Law kindness and compassion when he was at his lowest. He had faith in the existence of a cure that Law was long past believing. Was determined to help him, even against Law's wishes, even if it meant having Law relive his trauma over and over again. Corasan becomes incredibly important to Law, giving him a reason to live beyond just destruction and revenge.

After the rest of the world had long turned his back on him, when he had been nothing but a dying puddle of rage and self-destructive nihilism, Corasan saved Law. He told Law "Aishiteru" - a very rare way of saying "I love you", never used casually due to the depth of its meaning and the massive connotations behind it - in essence translating to "I love you so much I cannot possibly imagine life without you". There's a high likelihood that at his age, Law had never heard these words before, and probably didn't quite understand the weight of Rosinante saying it at the time.

Corasan frees Law, then he dies at the hand of Doflamingo, Rosinante's own brother.

All Rosinante wanted was for this poor kid to go on and live his life unburdened by his more than turbulent history and his connection to Doffy, but I think for all his planning, Rosinante's one critical error was well and truly underestimating how much him loving Law, and loving Law to the extent he did, would mean to that kid. Law really went from that ten year old hollow void sentiment of "why does anyone or anything at all get to exist when everything that was important to me is dead, burned to ashes and wiped off the map" to "I should have died at age thirteen and every second I've lived since then, I've only lived as a result of Corasan's efforts and as a personal affront to Doflamingo." This time, Law has a tangible, heinous 10 foot monster of a target to direct 1. his grief and anger and 2. justice for Cora towards, and this time he has the power and will to follow through. More than that, he believes Corasan sacrificed himself for him because he's a D. (someone destined to rain down destruction on the gods - Doflamingo, in this case). Corazon becomes a saint that Law dedicates the rest of his life to. Which is something that Law is not vocal about to just anyone he comes across, but is so unbelievably obvious once you know what you're looking at — his tattoos, his jolly roger, his crew, his ship, his ambitions, his beliefs, his fucking. custom-made Corazon jacket. all of it for this man that showed Law - at a time when he hated the world and everything in it - love. For all of six months. max.

And his whole life and personality and behaviour CONTINUES to be guided by this trauma — the way he's reckless with himself, his borderline self-destructive actions, the way he keeps telling himself that none of it would've been worth it unless Corasan's last wishes are fulfilled, the way he surrounds himself with bright people and soft things, the way it doesn't register that his crew genuinely loves and cares about him, the way he's terrified of losing anyone important to him again (and I would say this is one of his biggest downfalls as a Captain compared to someone like Luffy - who is just as reckless as Law is but trusts his crew, doesn't try to send them away, isn't afraid to let them grow and risk their lives for him like Law is with the heart crew), his inability to take a damn compliment. The way he doesn't understand Luffy AT ALL.

Doesn't understand that this alliance that he's brokered means nothing to Luffy because he sees him as FRIEND. No transactions or mutually beneficial pacts necessary. Doesn't get that he's the one that inadvertently asked Luffy to be his friend, thus breaking a long chain of people (mostly parental figures and siblings) abandoning or leaving Luffy behind/no one taking the first initiative to ask to be around him. Law is complete and utterly in the dark as to why someone would ever bat for him when the stakes are this high for no other reason than because they like them and care about them as a person.

Luffy, with his playground rules where he loves unconditionally and will take on the world for a friend he made five minutes ago, perplexes Law with his sheer simplicity.

When Sengoku tells Law, "Don't try to find a reason for someone's love", I do NOT think he takes it well. Because there must be a reason. There has to be. Between the two options of Corasan saving Law's life and freeing him because he believed in the will of D., or Rosinante saving him for no other reason than because Law was a kid that was loveable, and because he loved him unconditionally... everything we've learned about how Law functions up until this point suggests the former will always make more sense to him, and after everything he's been through, is most likely less painful for him to accept.

[highonmarvel]

You just let it happen

Bucky Barnes: After witnessing an ostensible but seemingly non violent crime in its outcome, you push it to the back of your mind, but the offender escalates.

An entry for Day 2 of the exciting @sintember challenge! [this is my favourite prompt, I hope you enjoy!]

Prompt: You just let it happen, ft [Biker AU] Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

“Bystander, victim or accomplice, perhaps you shouldn't have let it pass...”

warnings: dubcon!, robbery, violent crime, very mild ‘gore.’ 18+!

It’s not like you lived in the most dangerous of areas, but there’s not really a neighbourhood a reasonable woman would feel comfortable walking in alone after sunset. Despite the relatively warm air, you shiver slightly, pulling your cardigan tighter as you walk at a brisk pace down the cobbled pavement.

There’s only really one spot you’d say was explicitly ‘sketchy,’ for lack of a better term. You’ve heard a few motorcycles rev near a small gas station, but they didn’t really stick around for more than a few minutes every couple of days—you think they know the owner or something, or maybe the owner owes them something, but you’ve never really heard of them being violent—they may just very well be some regular guys who just happen to ride bikes, not every group of guys is a gang. Still, you’ve never been one for walking past more than two men at a time.

You stop in your tracks and sigh as you check your watch. It’s nearly eight, all the grocery stores are definitely closed by now, and you really need to pick some stuff up. You look up the small hill to the garage—there’s only one motorbike parked outside it, it probably doesn’t even belong to one of those guys.

You shield your eyes from the bright lights illuminating the road and gas pumps, but other than the loudness of the neon, it’s silent. The automatic doors slide open and the chill from the air conditioner causes a shiver to run down your spine as you reach to pick up a plastic basket. Unfortunately for you, you don’t notice the scene at the front of the store.

You grab a few things from the aisles, it takes less than five minutes, you anticipate being out of the store before eight strikes, but as you turn the corner to join the queue to pay, you freeze.

A tall man, broad shoulders, with his back turned to you is holding a gun up to the cashier, almost lazily, like he does this often and he’s getting bored of it. You gasp and nearly drop your things. Just as his head turns, you manage to duck behind some shelves, clasping one hand over your mouth, the other on your chest, as if you can somehow control your spiked heart rate by pressing down hard enough.

You hear the man make a curious noise behind you and cock his gun. You shut your eyes as you hear footsteps approach, like you’re a child who lives by ‘If you can’t see them, they can’t see you.’ Heavy boots come to a stop in the row behind you, and you hear a mechanical whirring of some kind. When he turns and the footsteps get lighter and lighter, you nearly want to sigh in relief, but don’t dare make a sound.

You’re not sure how long you’re hidden—realistically it can’t have been more than five minutes (robbers just wanna get in and out, right?) but it feels longer, and the hushed conversation you can barely hear over the blood thumping in your ears seems to last too long for a normal heist.

When you hear the ding of the automatic doors open and then close, you know he’s left. You risk a glance to the counter, where the owner (who’s working as the cashier) is dragging a rag across his sweaty forehead, and looking shaken, understandably so. But you don’t remember hearing the cash register open. Maybe your panic blocked it out, you could hardly hear anything with how harshly you were breathing behind your clammy hand anyway.

Should you say something? What could you do, call the cops? You don’t think he stole anything, he just had a gun, isn’t that some protected amendment in the US? Was a crime even committed? Maybe this could count as harassment, intimidation, but did you really see enough to make that call? The owner doesn’t seem hurt, just stressed out, maybe there’s other stuff going on, nothing to do with what just happened. You don’t even know what the guy looks like, and the owner isn’t making any moves to call the police, he’s not calling anyone at all, so it can’t have been that bad, can it? Maybe that guy didn’t even have a gun, and you were just seeing things because you’re tired. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes sense. It was probably nothing.

Although you’ve talked yourself into believing—realising—that you didn’t really witness anything, you still dart out the door, ignoring your name being called by the man behind the counter and leaving your basket in your hiding spot. When you get home, you shut the door firmly behind you and triple check all the locks.

***

The next day, there’s not a peep of what happened. No one in your neighbourhood seems to have heard anything about it: so you were right, nothing happened at all. Even if the cops weren’t called, you’re sure some gossip would have spread if it was a scene, but it wasn’t. You were right, it was nothing.

You feel a bit better as you go through your day, having tossed and turned the night before about whether you made the right call, but evidently you did: nothing bad happened! That is, until you’re walking home, and yellow tape is lined outside the gas station, cop cars and men with notepads gathered around the scene. You can’t help but walk up, feeling a sense of dread at what you might find.

The owner is laying on the floor in the middle of the parking lot, crimson bleeding from his head. You gasp at the sight and an officer whips around to see you. He shakes his head, tuts and sighs as he flips his notepad to a new page.

“Go home, lady,” he says, but he seems more tired than anything, almost like he was… expecting to find this. “This ain’t a safe place for a dame like you.”

You swallow hard and turn on your heel, trying to maintain a normal pace (that ends up being speedwalking, nearly running) as you near your flat. In the building, you all but fly up the stairs to get to your floor.

Oh, god, should you have said something? You can’t change yesterday, but should you turn back and say something to the cops now? Tell them what you saw, have them question you on why you didn’t say a word to anyone, let alone the authorities?

You’ve closed the door behind you and are safely in your apartment when you finally let a few tears fall. Back against the door, you dig the heels of your palms so harshly onto your eyelids colour blots your blackened vision. Oh god, oh god, oh god, what should you have done? What can you even do about this now? You really don’t know anything! If the security cameras caught something, then it would be okay, right? They’ll find the guy—you only saw him from the back but he wasn’t wearing a balaclava or anything. And if they needed you, they’d be able to find you too, right? If they could identify you on the CCTV. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

The door opens and you fall forward with a shriek. Oh, fuck, you had been so focused on your inner monologue you didn’t lock it.

You fall onto your front but manage to prop yourself up on your forearms, turning over onto your back to look up at the intruder. Your stomach sinks.

You didn’t see his face yesterday but you know this is him; even if his broad shoulders and leather jacket didn’t give it away, under what other circumstances would a man burst into your place shortly after you entered unless he was following you, and what other man would be following you except one who knew something, or knew you knew something.

The lights are off in your apartment, but the hallway ones illuminate his silhouette like he’s an axe murderer standing in your doorway. He raises his gun and you whimper, shutting your eyes and turning your head away.

“I heard you,” he finally speaks in a low voice, slightly gruff.

“I didn’t tell anyone!” you swear, tears spilling out of your eyes. “I didn’t even see anything, I couldn’t even see anything, I swear!” you cry in between deep breaths.

And you’re sure you imagined a snort. You look up in horror, expecting to hear a bullet fly. But you hear… a laugh?

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and straightens his posture. He flips the light switch on and you see his face: his teeth sink into his plump lower lip, and he tries and fails to suppress a smile, “I’m sorry!” he apologises again, this time he laughs out loud, and you realise he’s apologising not for the situation, but that he can’t keep a straight face about it. “Sorry, it’s just—I could hear you, you know.” He steps closer and you back away again, shuffling on your forearms because you’re not sure if your legs will be able to carry you if you tried to stand, let alone run. He lets his brow drop into something like faux concern as he looks down on you with steel blue eyes. “Your pretty little heartbeat,” he murmurs, eyes briefly raking your form. “I can hear it now.”

Okay, you know you’re heart rate’s got to be in the 300s, but he can’t hear it… can he?

He raises a gloved hand, and for a moment you assume he’s going to cock his gun, and you brace yourself, but instead he sighs as he turns it over, looking at the back of the glove, and you furrow your brows in confusion. He twirls the gun and tucks it safely into his waistband so he can use his free hand to reveal… a metal hand? That must have been the mechanical whirring you heard last night. You tilt your head at it as he flexes the fingers, and somehow, this arm seems more dangerous than the gun.

“Relax,” he scoffs when he notices you staring at it as he pulls the glove off his other hand. “It’s not gonna feel good if I’ve got these on, now, is it.” He moves to stand over you, and you’re paralysed by fear. You’re not quite comprehending what he’s getting at until he winks at you. “And you won’t be telling anyone about this either.”

You finally manage to scramble to your feet but stumble back a few paces, your back hitting your bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He stalks towards you and you find it in you to speak again, ignoring how the shakiness to your tone has you seeming like helpless prey cowering in a corner. “You—you need to leave,” you try, as if a criminal is suddenly going to change his ways at a command.

“Come on,” he groans as he fishes his gun back out of his pocket with his right hand, pointing it at your thigh. You still when he finally comes to a stop way too close to you for comfort, or even a little relief. “This isn’t a punishment,” he sighs as he kicks your legs apart, and you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You watch him with wide eyes as he pops his metal fingers into his mouth and smiles at you. “Don’t be difficult, and you’ll see how good this can feel.”

You shut your eyes when you feel the cool metal graze over your folds, slightly covered in saliva. When you tense, he whispers, “Relax.” and presses the gun into your thigh. You reluctantly unclench as he slowly drags his fingers along your folds before pressing his thumb onto your clit, making you gasp and dig your nails into his skin, to which he just hums in delight.

You can’t help the wetness that slowly gathers as he rubs rhythmic circles over your clit, gently dragging his fingers back and forth until they’re coated with slick. You clench again to try to keep him from breaching your entrance. “I know you feel bad,” he coos, but doesn’t let up on his assault, “But just let this happen. Yesterday… you just let it happen.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek when he finally slips a finger inside you, and you involuntarily adjust to him. “There you go, good job,” he praises, ignoring the tear that falls onto his lip. When he slips another finger into you, you cry out and throw your arms over his shoulders, burying your face against him to muffle the quiet moans you can’t control, urging him closer to you, and pressing the metal of the gun harder into your thigh, making an indent you’re sure you’ll see the mark of tomorrow.

You feel your stomach tense as the bubble builds and builds, and when you finally let go, throwing your head back with a frustrated groan, he nuzzles his face into your neck. You feel him smile against you as you push at his shoulders trying to get him off of you, or even just to relent his fingers still dragging in and out of you even as your legs wobble, hardly keeping you up, and your aftershocks start to reach a level of intensity that’s bordering on painful.

“Just let it happen…”

✪

my beloved taglist: @cjand10, @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier

[xkaidaxxxx]

BEFORE THE RUMBLING!!

Levi x Reader

Mentions: angst, pregnancy, and fluff

Random story I just created

More than likely to have errors it’s 1:50am and I’m TIRED.

Instagram: Cornerofdesires (artist)

Levi x Reader

Things have been always out of control in paradis. You and Levi have been together in secret. Yes he was a busy man however he had the time to build a hidden home. Had the time to visit you as much as he could. It was often.

“It’s been awhile..” you said twiddling with your fingers. “ I know. I’m glad you’re safe” he said suddenly holding you tight. “I have something to confess.” You spoke. Levi stepped back. He started to panic.

Many thoughts ran through his head.

“Maybe she found someone else?”

“ maybe I don’t make her happy enough?”

“ Did I do something wrong?”

“ She probably hates that I haven’t visited her in a month”

“Does she want to kill me?”

“ she doesn’t love me anymore?”

He calmed himself down. “Yes? What is it?” He said with a calm voice. You placed your hand on you lower tummy. A barely visible bump. “ I’m pregnant.” He chuckled. “No you’re not.” You got angry and slapped him. “I’m pregnant!” You yelled . “ you can’t be. Not right now. Not with all of this shit going on.” He said sternly yet crying. Crying because he knew he wouldn’t be around 24/7 during your pregnancy. Worried something can happen to you. He’s lost almost everyone he’s cared for. “ Why are you crying?” You asked wiping his tears away. “You c-can’t be. I’m happy yes. That we’re together. That I’ll be a father but I’m scared something might happen to you. I promise I’ll be here as much as I can. I love you.” He spoke holding your hands. “ I love you Levi. Calm down. We will get through this together.”

Soon enough years later Levi informed Hange about you. She was shocked.

“Hey little guy copy and paste. Very strange how genes work.” She spoke. “ Hi lady” he replied sitting on your lap. “This is my wife. Y/n Ackerman and our son Levi Ackerman jr.” Levi said flicking hanges forehead.

Hange wished Erwin could’ve met you and your son. Erwin knew, Levi told him as soon as he got back to work after you had told him. Which is the reason he would come home a lot more often during your pregnancy. Erwin met him only twice. At a year old and at 3yrs.

“ what’s that?” Levi asked. Hange burst out in excitement “ some gifts for the baby!” She replied

You opened the big box. There were a lot of baby supplies and toys. Your eyes widened when you saw a fake mini odm gear.

“ maybe he’ll be interested to join the scouts one day.” She said. Levi quickly spoke. “ there won’t be any need of him thinking about joining. I’m sure everything will be fine by then.”

He rubbed your back giving you a peck on the cheek.

Time went by. Levi left early in the morning. Leaving a letter behind.

My dearest y/n,

I won’t be back home for a while. A few weeks? Months? You need to stay strong. Not only for yourself but for our child. I’ve left many supplies for emergencies along with more hunting materials in the cellar.I love you and our baby boy very much, more than anything. I’ll be thinking about you and Levi Jr everyday like I always do. My beautiful family. I promise this world will change soon.

Ps,

When you get lonely think of me and you’ll definitely release. ;)

Love you my dearest y/n

Love you my wonderful son

You read the letter with a smile and tears slipping. Levi can always make you laugh with his dirty words. You knew he’d come back even though you worry 24/7 when he’s gone.

It’s been a 1 1/2 year. Levi hadn’t come home. You had come to the conclusion that he’s dead. You were heartbroken and Levi jr knew something was bothering you. He’d ask frequently about his father and your responses were along the lines of the military is a work that takes up a lot of time. That his dad was humanity’s strongest soldier.

Since you lived in a hidden part of paradis there wasn’t much you knew. The last thing you knew was the scouts infiltrating Marley as Levi had said when he returned then left.

Another few months went by. You were going insane. Crying everyday when your son was asleep.

“ He’s gone and left me alone. Humanity’s strongest soldier.. it was all a lie.” You cried into his coat. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore. “ how could you do this to me. You promised you’d come home. To our son and I.” Your body trembled and your knees gave out on you. Your body touched the ground. “ m-mama!” Your son cried seeing you fall. He looked around trying to find a way to help you. “ mama wait!” He yelled grabbing a cloth from the table and pulled the chair out. “ up mama up. You can do it.” He held your hand.

Flashback

“Up y/n up. You can do it.” Levi said with a tch afterwards. You had just fallen due to tripping hard. You cried as he held your hand.

“There mama see you’re good.” Levi jr said as you sat down on the chair. It’s crazy how he’s identical to Levi. You remember what his letter said. “You need to stay strong. Not only for yourself but for our child.”

That got you back on track.

“Why are you crying mama?” He asked as you picked him up. “ I miss daddy that’s all. He should be home soon.” You replied. You did miss him but in your mind he wasn’t coming back. Not at all. He was K.I.A. “He’s coming home! Really!? My birthday is next week! so cool!” He was so excited. Full of hope and faith that his father would come home just in time for his 5th birthday.

The day of Levi jr’s 4th birthday was such a sad event. His dad was a no show. He still ate a pie you baked. You still sung his Happy Birthday. He still got a great gift. You always make them. After awhile Levi jr stopped asking for his father. He didn’t care about him.

Another year passed.

He was more focused on learning from his teacher, you. He learned how to read, write and learned many other subjects. He eventually helped you do cute little tasks around the house.

Setting up the table

Organizing your books

Clean up his toys

Help you sweep. (Didn’t do it 100% right but you appreciated the help)

You were slowly forgetting Levi. Getting used to living calmly with your little boy. Happy. “Mama it’s almost lunch time.” Levi jr said excitedly. Lunch is his favorite meal of the day. You walked outside shooting a goose. “Sweetheart wait here.” You ordered him. You walked over to pick up lunch. “ Hello ma’am?” A man spoke you quickly grabbed the arrow you shot the goose with and held it to his throat. He had beautiful ocean blue eyes and blonde hair. “Come back here and I’ll make sure you won’t live to see another day.” You spoke. “ Are you Y/n Ackerman?” He asked with a gulp following after. “ What’s your business?” You replied pressing the tip of the arrow enough to prick his neck. “ I’m Armin Arlert your husband is asking for you. There was a war. He was injured. It took awhile for him to recover. He asked me to come here until he was fully recovered. Here I am.” He said.

Levi jr quickly ran outside cutting the back of Armins knees. Not deeply enough to cause damage. You taught him how to defend himself. Armin hissed. Then looked at the little guy.

“Levi was correct. Copy and paste.” He spoke.

“ w-where is he now?” You asked carrying jr. “Good job Levi. You’re doing great.” Armin looked confused but then realized it’s important to fight. “Back at his house. Everything is peaceful now without the titans.”

You invited Armin into the house. As you cleaned his wounds he explained everything. You were still cautious so you kept a knife close by.

“ y/n?” Levi spoke. You saw him. His injuries. His fingers, he has faint scars on his face and his eye was white. He’s in a wheelchair so his leg must be broken. “Levi!” You spoke bending down to hug him tight. Your body shook. You couldn’t believe you were touching him. “You piece of shit. God I’ve missed so much. I love you.” You cried. “ I love you. I’ve missed you all along. I’m sorry I ended up like this.” He replied. You let him go. “ it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re safe. You’re wi-” you got interrupted. “ Mama!!” You turned and saw Armin chasing Levi jr. You giggled as he hugged your waist.

He immediately went silent as he saw his father. He starred at him looking at his facial features. He noticed how identical they looked.

“D-Dada?” He spoke with his hands trembling as they held your long skirt. “ yeah bud it’s me. You’ve grown so much.” Levi replied tears slipping.

Levi jr burst out in tears jumping onto his father’s lap. Levi held him close. “Dada you never came home. Mama cried everyday.” You frowned. You thought he never heard you. “ you stayed strong for mama?” He asked. Levi jr nodded giving him a bright smile. “Yes and for me too. We both did our best everyday! Cleaning and hunting and school!” He giggled. Levi pecked his cheek stating “From now on I’ll always be here with you both. I love you my son and my dearest wife.” You couldn’t help but cry.

“We love you too d-dada so much” Levi jr said with a sniffle.

As time went by you and your family were happy. Everyday was full of craziness. Some days weren’t perfect but they were beautiful.

The Ackerman family grew. You now have 2 boys and a little girl. The new house you guys lived in was amazing.

Later on you guys got a cat.

Life for the Ackerman Family was finally peaceful.

Kids Names ( levi wanted a L babies)

Levi Ackerman Jr

Lonny Ackerman

Lilly Ackerman

Cats name

Sparkles

[sinisterexaggerator]

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka (Part 4)

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Pain mention.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 1.9k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired by Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

*This is a shorter chapter, but it sets things up for what will happen next, and it felt right to stop where I did.

Chapter 1, 2, 3 | Read on Ao3

“Nu good, ensufferable know-et-all! Lousy carbon copy! A bold-faced liar, tinking he can hide de truth from me! Hondo!”

The Weequay ranted and raved as he made his way through Eriadu’s foilage, once more employing the use of his vibrocutlass. He hacked at those bits and pieces of plants that dared to hinder his forward march, having left the clone no more than thirty minutes prior. Hondo had nearly traversed a quarter kilometer before he stopped, allowing himself to cool off and for a clearer head to prevail. He was better than this, he mused, though it was about the principle; how dare this so-called soldier take him for a fool!

“He should have told me from de outset,” he muttered, his chest rising and falling more slowly as he caught his breath. With eyes asquint, the pirate gazed around himself, noting that it was nearly dark, and that he was all alone out here, minus one bruised and battered brainiac.

“Ugh, now de creepy crawlies will come out,” he grumbled, missing his desert home more and more each and every minute of each and every hour of each and every day, wanting only a stiff drink back at his beloved base on Florrum—too bad that would never happen now, left to roam the galaxy with the remainder of those men that were loyal to him.

Hondo was not stupid; he knew that they were growing restless; this job was meant to be a way for them to recoup that which was lost thanks to the Empire, only now it appeared he would be lucky to escape with his life—a feeling that clone must also be experiencing—the pirate sighed a deeply exaggerated sigh.

“What tu du, what tu du…” It was a rhetorical question, one he often asked himself, even if he already knew the answer, that pesky sense of honor returning to him at a most inconvenient time.

“He es dead weight, liable tu get me killed. Et would be easier tu steal a ship witout de extra baggage…” The pirate began to pace, aware that he was talking to himself, bits of dirt and dried leaves becoming displaced as he walked to and fro, his blade bouncing lightly against his shoulder.

“Ah, but he has a family—and let us not forget de reward!” Hondo reminded himself, suddenly finding it in his heart to be of help once more.

“Hopefully he es … still alive, unlike my men,” he offered to the forest, turning about face. Sheathing his sword, he felt he did not need it, having already cleared a path his first time through. “Ef not, wellll, one cannot say I ded not try.”

---

Though he felt destined for an unfavorable outcome, Tech had the heart of a soldier, and the ability to give up was not something within his wheelhouse. Trundling onward, it was easy to track the Weequay, for he was doing a poor job of hiding his trail. Tech doubted he was even attempting to, so angry had he been from the moment he left camp. He supposed he had every right to be, as he had not been completely forthright.

This had been his fear—to be left behind should the pirate learn the entirety of the truth—wondering if anything would be different had he come clean in the beginning. Transparency, of course, brought trust, yet he had taken quite a risk in keeping quiet. In other words, he should have known better—he did know better—but getting off Eriadu was more important, and so he carried on, even when his body was on the verge of failing him.

With the planet’s sun giving off its last rays, darkness fell, leaving Tech bathed in glimmers of moonlight. Peering out into the darkness through his cracked heads-up display, he stiffened at the sound of footsteps from somewhere ahead, wondering if it might be some kind of animal, or worse—more TK troopers that were out to capture him.

Taking cover, the commando stilled, curtailing his arrhythmic breathing the best he could. He waited for his enemy to show itself, thankful that he still had the element of surprise.

When at last a figure appeared on his infrared scanner, Tech took aim, firing off two shots in the direction of this would-be adversary. He was only able to make out the heat signature of the individual, though he wore what appeared to be a helmet—a possible lone TK who would undoubtedly call for backup if he had the chance.

“You imbecile, you shot me! Me! I thought you said you were smart!” the voice of the aggrieved called out from between the trees. “You are lucky dat Weequay have blaster resistant skin, you ex-republic dog, but you can rest assured you will be paying for de damages tu my very expensive, very valuable, Wroonian coat!”

Tech immediately holstered his blasters, though it was too little, too late. He had not expected to ever see the pirate again, trusting he had been left for dead. He was glad to be wrong, if only just this once, presently standing in an awkward manner as he attempted to regain his equanimity. “I thought you to be an enemy,” he stated plainly.

“Nu, just de idiot who has come tu rescue you. Again,” Hondo gruffly complained, dusting off his lapel. There was an obvious singe mark across it, and another along his right sleeve.

“I must admit that this is a surprise.”

“Tu you and me both,” Hondo replied snidely.

Tech had nothing to say, simply waiting for the pirate’s next move. If he had learned anything in their short time together, it was that he had a flare for theatrics and was sure to take over the conversation as he saw fit; he was correct in that assumption.

“But unfortunately for me, and fortunately for you, I have a heart.” The pirate felt deceived by his own shortcomings, wafting a hand dismissively for him to follow. “Now come, hurry, I was nearly tu de lommite mine when I had tu turn around and fetch you. Et es already dark, however dis may be en our favor.”

“Obviously, the cover of darkness is a boon in this situation,” Tech agreed.

“Dat es what I just said,” Hondo snapped, though the clone remained quiet, refusing to buy into what would quickly become a game of tit for tat. He felt exchanging quips, in this case, was not worth the effort, and that it would only prolong the rogue’s sour mood. He was not, after all, one of his brothers, and he was unsure what future repercussions might await him should he continue to engage.

“I am ready when you are.”

“I am ready now,” Hondo shot back, turning on the heel of his boot. He hastened his departure, leaving Tech to keep up as quickly as his legs would allow.

---

Without Hondo, and due to the failure of his equipment, Tech would not have known just how close the lommite mine truly was or its precise location. Soon, they reached the safety of rolling hills that spread into mountains, a large structure built into the mass of rock looming straight ahead.

From their refuge beneath a stone projection, they could observe that beyond a set of open hydraulic doors was a spacious bay, loaded with an assortment of mining equipment. There were bucket excavators; hauler trucks; rock dusters, and crushing machines, all serving a distinct purpose. More importantly, there were cargo ships, ground cars with treads, and speeder bikes most likely belonging to the Empire—or the employees of the facility itself—though Tech could hardly make out anything but nebulous lines.

“Just dere, you see? Eriadu Mining and Shipping. Dey have large industrial transport ships dat leave every hour on de hour, and a rotating staff of nearly one hundred men, not tu mention droids! Of course, dat does not account for de Imperial personnel lurking about … Just our luck, ah?”

“Indeed,” was the only answer the clone afforded him, having been distracted by the heat signatures of two sentient beings that were out of bounds. They were skulking about just as they were, though much closer to the entrance of the mine. “I believe we are not the only ones here.”

“Yes, yes! Dere are many people! Are you suuuure you are de genius you say you are?” Hondo probed.

“Unsurprisingly, you misunderstand,” Tech informed him. “There are two individuals lurking nearby the entrance. It appears they are planning to sneak inside.”

“What? Where!” Hondo asked, raising his voice. Realizing his own mistake, he lowered it to an excitable whisper. “I du not see anyon—more troopers?” he asked, spotting two white dots amid the darkness.

Tech attempted to zoom in with his heads-up display, though the screen temporarily blacked out; the clone held his breath until it came back online. “No.”

Though unable to clearly see the pair below, they were not behaving like Imperial soldiers, and Tech was sure of at least one thing—they were not wearing buckets on their heads.

"I was sure they had escaped off-world," Tech said, more to himself, noting that Saw was down one man. There had been several Partisans in total, though now he only spotted two lifeforms below.

“And of whom are you speaking?” The pirate was becoming increasingly annoyed.

“Saw Guerra. I mentioned him when discussing the events that transpired at Raven’s Peak.”

“De man wit de most beautiful sister…” Hondo trailed off, reminiscing on what he knew of him and his family; he remembered delivering weapons to them at Skywalker’s behest, having been paid handsomely for his services. “Dis es an interesting development! Perhaps he may offer us a distraction while we find a ride out of dis place, ah? Or maybe he would be willing tu work tugether. Four heads are better dan two, nu matter ef one of dose heads es presumably smarter.”

Tech ignored the comment about Saw's sibling, having never known him to have a sister. "Saw will help himself and his cause, disregarding even the soundest advice if it interferes with his own plans," Tech declared with confidence; he knew this to be true based on his most recent experience. While presenting a logical counterargument against the destruction of the Imperial base, Saw stated it was, "for the greater good," even after being told that the lives of clones were at stake. It was safe to say he had lost some, if not all, of Tech's respect.

“Dat es terrible news…” Hondo stroked the length of his frills, contemplating the situation. “Dough ef we are lucky—and I am lucky—I will be able tu change his mind.”

“I highly doubt—” Tech ended his thought to begin another as the scoundrel rose, worried that the Weequay would also disregard him. “Wait, we should formulate a plan. It is unwise to—”

“—blah blah blah,” Hondo interjected, beginning to make his way downhill. “Are you coming, or du you prefer tu stay here, for I am leaving wit or witout you.”

Tech sighed heavily, standing unsteadily to his feet. Though it was against his better judgement and defied all common sense, he made slow work of following the pirate, unable to shake the feeling they were headed for disaster.

[love-toxin]

ok bc im in an RE mood (and replaying the games in anticipation of the remake) I may be having thoughts of being Jill and Carlos' cute little crush that they're constantly competing over and playfighting about 😵‍💫

either you're a fellow U.B.C.S soldier who followed Carlos and Tyrell on the mission into RC or a STARS member that's close with Jill and having to escape her same fate, when all three of you meet and they lock eyes with each other, they both know that it's on. they may be in a literal hellhole, but why not have a little fun before they might die?

if you're a longtime friend of Jill's, she treats you like you're one of the most special people in the world. she talks so highly of you to other people, both when you're not around and when you are, and she's so overprotective of you even if you're a trained officer like herself. once they figure out what (or rather who) Nemesis is after, she's even more protective over you as one of her last comrades from STARS and does just about everything she can to keep the BOW away from you and locked on to her instead. unfortunately for her, that means leaving you under Carlos' care more often than not, but meeting back up with you and having you fuss over her after she's played the hero is just too good to pass up. plus, there's no way in hell she's letting you fight that thing alongside her, so even if you try to she's usually locking a fence shut behind her or slamming the underground shutter closed before you can even think of chasing after her. which, though annoying for you, is the perfect recipe to have you worried and mooning over her every second that she's gone, right under Carlos' nose.

if Carlos is more familiar with you, then he's just plain flirtatious all the time. he certainly doesn't make his affection for you a secret and especially not when Jill's around, cause he knows you and he wants her to see you get all warm-faced and shy or flirt right back at him like it's an inside joke. he probably makes a point of throwing you a "honey, I'm home" when you two rendezvous and even a cheeky "sorry, gotta get back to the wife/husband" when he and Jill have to part ways. he pesters you endlessly with nicknames too, to the point that you probably joke about him not even remembering your real name--but teasing is one of his love languages, along with acts of service as well, which he shows in RC by checking your weapons for you and refilling your magazine without you having to ask. he mostly does it when you're not looking, both because he doesn't want to be interrupted and because you would catch him loading you up with his own ammunition even if it leaves him a little short. he'd rather you have the means to defend yourself than have to scrounge, and potentially put yourself in danger--that's not happening on Carlos' watch. ever. both him and Jill have lost far too many people to let that happen to the bright, beaming little ray of sunshine that might be the last good thing that exists in this wretched world.

it definitely changes depending on how you present yourself, though. because Carlos is much more comfortable flirting openly with you as a female and the opposite goes for Jill--she's still not much of a flirter, but those lingering touches on the arm or especially grateful "thank you"s and "I couldn't have done this without you"s hit a little differently if you're more masculine. if you're on the feminine side, she's more friendly and honestly a little shyer with any sort of praise you give her, although she's much more likely to offer you her shoulder to rest on or a hug to ease your worries. whereas Carlos, if you're on the masculine side, treats you less in a bro-way than he does his other male friends, which makes it immediately obvious to anyone that knows him that he's got the hots for you, while people he's only acquaintances with think he just doesn't get along with you. obviously, if it's just around each other, they do whatever they want--although the two of them individually are a lot more confident depending on how you present, but if you're somewhat neutral, then it's pretty equal.

as far as the actual competition goes, the rules are pretty fluid. if you flirt back? that's a win. if you compliment one of them? extra point. hug them when you're reunited, fuss over their injuries, or tell them "you'd better be careful, don't you dare die on me"? that's more than enough of a triumph for one of them to grin smugly at the other or brag about it while they're talking to each other over the radio.

if they don't come to declare a winner throughout the events of RC (by which they mean neither or both of them got a kiss from you) then the competition doesn't stop there. when they get back to normalcy and spend some more time together as friends and rivals, they come up with new ways to try and win you over. it's not just because they both like you, it's also because you're a welcome distraction from all the psychological and emotional torment they have to deal with from that day, too. they've both already tangled with PTSD before that and it doesn't get any better with Raccoon City under their belts, but your smile always makes it better. sometimes it's only you that makes them feel better.

so what's the best way to do that when you're not around or available to pay attention to them? play-wrestling.

"alright supercop, don't make me go easy on you."

"oh, you're gonna wish I go down easy."

they can barely keep the smiles off their faces whenever they get into position on the exercise mats in Jill's new apartment, knees bent and palms up as they ready themselves for a match. "it's childish and a foolish waste of time", that's probably what any of their higher-ups would say about two ex-soldiers who are considered some of the strongest agents in America, but it's one of the few ways they're able to cope in the aftermath. and despite Carlos clearly having a size advantage over her, Jill's much faster and more agile--which of course means that they're evenly matched more often than not, and it usually only stops once one of them cries uncle or they're interrupted. if you're ever the one that stops by when they're doing so and ask them what the heck they're up to with a giggle, they just share a knowing look and give some vague half-answer as they let their grinning faces speak for themselves.

but of course, just by nature of this little game, they can't keep it up forever. the post-event relief after surviving Raccoon City won't last a lifetime, at one point the two of them will need to move on with their lives and find a new path to venture, even if it means splitting apart from each other. and eventually one of them or neither of them are gonna win with you, but that thought in itself sobers the two of them up more than they anticipated it would. obviously they knew that there'd be an endgame, but it's been so fun spending the time together and becoming such good partners that neither of them want it to end. if the three of us could be together forever, then I think I'd be happy for the rest of my life. the two of them share that sentiment, but what about you? what do you want? they know now that they're happy to spend their own lives together, both as friends and as partners, but would you even consider joining in to such an odd, confounding relationship?

it almost breaks their hearts when they finally, finally work up the courage to ask you, and you just look between the two of them and ask if they're pulling a prank. you would've just laughed it off at once but they seem so serious, and when they double down and explain themselves more it's terrifying to see you look so confused at what they're saying. even moreso when they realize you're taking them seriously, but the only thing you have to ask is: "why me?"

"don't get me wrong, I...I love you both, more than life itself, but why would you pick me? I can't even begin to compare to either of you. you're just....incredible."

of course, knowing how much of a romantic Carlos is, he's probably the one going in for a kiss before that compliment even finishes leaving your mouth. with a hand around your waist and warmth coursing through his body that sends shivers through yours at the contact, you don't even flinch when Jill follows it up with one of her own; a little gentler, but still firm and promising even when she pulls back. and if that's not enough to show you what they mean, well, they've got even more ways to prove their affection for you, maybe in the same vein as all that play-wrestling they love to do....if you catch their drift <3

[final-fantasy-imagines]

Can i ask for general relationship hcs for genesis and sephiroth (gn!reader), pretty please? :)))

Hey there, dear anon! Thank you so much for your request. <3 I know it took me a while to finish these but I hope you enjoy the headcanons nevertheless.

Characters: Genesis Rhapsodos, Sephiroth

General relationship HCs (gn!reader)

Genesis Rhapsodos

One might not expect it but Genesis is a hopeless romantic at heart. He usually hides it quite well but once you get closer to him it’s obvious how much all of this really means to him. He often brings you flowers from Aerith or leaves little notes for you to find, for example when he has to leave the house before you wake up.

Whenever you compliment him, he’s putty in your hands immediately. Genesis might often act like he doesn’t care what others think about him but deep down, he really craves these words of affirmation – especially since he’ll probably never stop seeing himself as a monster or a failed experiment. It’s also so very easy to fluster him with genuine compliments, though he tries his best not to let it show.

Aside from Angeal and Sephiroth, you’re the only one he trusts enough to show his true self. Around others, he hides behind a mask of cockiness, even arrogance, carefully locking away his feelings and struggles, but around you, he doesn’t have to fake anything. He can be himself, without having to fear any judgement from you, and that alone is enough to make him fall in love with you again every single day.

He’s not one to get jealous easily since he trusts you and knows that you would never betray him like that. But he still hates when others are clearly trying to flirt with you, especially if you’re obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation. It makes his blood boil when others are unable to respect your boundaries, and in moments like that, he definitely won’t hesitate to step in.

Of course, his SOLDIER duties keep him more than busy, and he sometimes has to be away from you for days, if not weeks, but Genesis makes sure to contact you at least once a day, not only because he misses you but also to show that you don’t have to worry about him. He doesn’t always have the time to call you though, so sometimes he just sends a quick text (which includes at least one quote from Loveless as well as some variation of I love you).

Sephiroth

Sephiroth isn’t someone to fall head over heels in love with someone or to dive head first into a relationship. He’s definitely hesitant, even repulsing at first, and tries to push you away, both because he feels like he’s not what you need and because he’s just so used to being alone. But once you have him, Sephiroth is yours forever. 

He’s not overly affectionate, in the sense that he rarely initiates cuddles or kisses himself but he would never deny you any affection if you asked for it, especially since he soon realizes how nice it feels to just hold you close for a while. There’s something so calming and peaceful about cuddling with you, and although he’d probably never admit it, he really craves these feelings. However, PDA is something he most likely never gets used to. 

There’s absolutely nothing Sephiroth wouldn’t do to keep you safe and sound. He knows first-hand how dangerous and awful the world can be, and he tries everything in his power to keep you safe from all harm. And should someone dare to lay a hand on you, Sephiroth won’t hesitate to make them pay for it. He fiercely protects the people he loves, no ifs, no buts – even if he had to risk his own life in the process.

You’re one of the few people he trusts with his whole heart. When he’s around you, he doesn’t have to pretend to be something he isn’t, and that’s one of the main reasons why he feels so comfortable in your presence. You know him – the real him – and you accept him just the way he is, his flaws and quirks included, and he loves you all the more for that. 

However, being in a relationship with Sephiroth isn’t all sunshine and flowers. No matter how much he loves you, there will always be situations where he still pushes you away, for example when you get into an argument and he feels like he needs to protect you from himself. In moments like this, patience is key – sooner or later, he will come to you to apologize but until then, it’s best to give him some space.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @sixdaysofsilverashes @thevoidwriting @theimaginaryheir @strawberrymoonsx

[agent-44mc]

a mission of liberation. 1995. pt.2

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Red Guardian

Warnings: none, so far.

Summary: Four years after meeting the Winter Soldier, Alexi Shostakov finds himself face to face with the man he once knew. SHIELD assigns him the mission to find and liberate him.

Word Count: 1.9k

notes: i definitely have a more coherent vision for where i want this to go, and also, i think this is some of my more vibrant writing for some reason. it might even be too wordy. As always, this is unedited. and now i know how to spell alexei.

Also, I still am not sure exactly how tumblr works. But i do know I LOVE it here.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sound of red dodge balls bouncing off of the gym floor echoed almost a thousand times over as the children whooped and hollered during the game that Alexei usually loved to play. Under his smile he had to plaster on like paint that day, he wondered if this would be the last time he saw it. 

And how much he was going to miss it if he failed. 

Living a double life wasn’t easy, especially one this dangerous. He didn’t like to think about what would happen if he was tracked down by someone who wanted vengeance and decided to use the kids as a ploy against him. 

Alexei seemed to get along better with kids than adults, and sometimes, many times, he wished that wasn’t so. He was often not taken very seriously. Of course, this always worked in his favor- as no one would expect the childish man to be a very dangerous ex-communist super-soldier on the weekends. 

But he could sense that with this mission, everything could change. 

“Alright kids, gather 'round’, your favorite teacher has something to say!” Alexei said enthusiastically in his faux american dad accent after blowing the whistle to signify the end of their game. It wasn’t done with great joy on his end. 

The sweaty, stinky, disheveled kids wiped their wild hair from their cherry red foreheads and slunk down to the ground, heaving as they tried to keep their eyes on the not-so-favorite teacher. How was a super soldier supposed to know when kids are overworked?

Once they were all settled, Alexei pulled a chair in front of him, straddling it’s blue plastic as he attempted to spin a rouge dodge ball on his fingers, brutally failing and knocking a kid in the face. “Oh, dear- I am so sorry- Um. Anyways. You all will be getting a substitute tomorrow. I know- I know-” he paused, holding up his flat palms, “do not cry. I have to visit my poor sick mother in… Nebraska. She’s ill with fevers and chills and the tummy…” 

The children all gave an array of expressions- from overjoyed to grossed out.  

“Don’t let this discourage you, children, I will be back by Monday, and then, schools are out for the summer! You can still play dodgeball on your own because I know that’s what you’ll all miss most-” he rambled, trying not to meet eyes with the poor girl he’d accidentally hit with the dodgeball, so much so that he didn’t notice a member of school staff appear behind him. 

The woman cleared her throat, causing Alexei to jump violently, knocking over the chair he was sitting on and assuming a fighting pose, making all of the kids roar with laughter when he almost slipped. Even the wicked looking woman cracked a bit of a smile- but Alexei knew it wasn’t a compassionate one. 

Sure, being the fool was great for undercover, but he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. 

“Bob Toledo…?” she inquired, her voice flat, staring at him coldly through her small glasses. “your friend is here, he says it’s urgent. Something about coney island. And that’s not just me paraphrasing, he said “something about coney island”.” She held up two slender fingers and made quotation marks. 

“Tell him I’ll be there in a second, I’m telling my kids goodbye!” he smiled, turning back to the kids, picking up the chair he knocked over. “Now- like I was saying… I know very well the thing you’ll miss the most is these talks of ours, where I share a good life lesson. This is a good teaching moment, kids, because sometimes, people you love… they get sick-” 

“I told you not to come in here!” The staff member scolded, cutting off Alexei once more and clicking her heels past him urgently toward the entrance. 

Alexei turned his head to see his friend, one of the key members in his reckoning only a few years ago, Bill Foster, walking through the door, his face grave with urgency as he ignored the warnings of the staff member. 

“Bob, we need to go, now,” Bill pleaded, his composure stiff with focus as the staff member continued to talk about rules and regulations. “You’re running out of time… it’s only a matter of hours until…” 

Alexei smiled, politely, nodding his head toward the kids, who now all had the same expression, months wide like a fish, true fear in their eyes at the events that were unfolding among their very young eyes. “Alright kids, have a nice weekend!” 

Once they were walking through the early May sun in the shouldering hot parking lot, Bill began to express the matters of his concerns more deeply, although Alexei should’ve spent more time explaining that his mother was going to be fine. This would not look good to the principal if she found out Alexei was giving the children mortality epiphanies. 

“We were working on luring him in, and maybe making some deals with people on the outside, but it turns out, he was spotted in upstate New York not long ago. We’re still investigating, as he disappeared without a trace, typical, but you need to be ready for whenever he’s seen again. Prepare an ambush,” He rambled, brushing off his coat. 

“No, we need to lure him out again! We must think smarter, smarter than we have ever thought before,” Alexei exclaimed. “And before Monday. You have made a scene, Agen- I mean, Mr. Foster, they will be suspicious of me and then I will lose my perfect American dream! That would be an American nightmare.” 

Bill Foster looked at him suspiciously, opening the door to his car after pressing the key fob to unlock it. “We’ve been looking for this man for about twenty years now, Alexei, we can’t just “think harder” about it.” 

After nearly bumping his head on the door frame of Bill’s car, Alexei jumped into the seat, digging a snack from the pocket of his cargo shorts. “Yes, but, you are forgetting something…” He said in a sing-song voice, returning to his russian accent, peeling back the wrapper on his dunkaroos. “You did not have this brain.” 

At that, all of his dunkaroos flung from the packaging during a wave of clumsiness and all over Bill’s car. “Okay. I’m not sure… That would be of much help…” He said, looking at Alexei with some form of… disgust, barely. Alexei noticed and continued to inspect his reaction as he started the car. 

“I am just excited, no need to insult my intelligence… Especially not about something you know absolutely nothing about,” Alexei said, using his arm to sweep some of the cookies from the dash and back into the package. “And, what do you know-” he poked, slipping back into an American accent, “-it’s in the field we’re specializing in.” 

Bill raised an eyebrow at him, stopping the car as he backed out of his parking spot.  “Are you implying you know something about the Red Room that you haven’t shared with us? You shouldn’t harbor important secrets that would benefit the well-being of-” he paused, noticing that Alexei was mocking him. “How can we trust you!?” 

“It never came up- no one asked me!” Alexei defended, stumbling through his words, his shoulders stiffening with deranged fear. “Please don’t take away my life!” 

Bill shook his head, fully backing out of the parking space as he tried to keep his cool. “Okay, Alexei, I won’t report this to anyone, but you better be sure to tell me everything you know about the red room���s plans, that way it would be easier to draw them in. And we can stop him from killing anymore people.”

“And-!” Alexei added, very loudly, “We can free him. We can stop him from what he cannot control himself from doing.” 

The car went silent, Alexei’s everlasting light dispersing in the atmosphere as he silently remembered when The Coney Island Hero resisted his conditioning. He was a person. He was human. And he could choose whether or not to kill someone- and he chose not to kill Alexei. And for that, he was going to free him and make sure he would never be used again. 

“I knew him. For four days, five days… I don’t remember. Felt like years. But I knew him. The Red Room killed The Coney Island Hero. It is hard to even want revenge- I only care about freeing him,” Alexei muttered, relaxing his shoulders and taking a shaky breath. 

Bill took a few moments to respond, making Alexei’s heart beat quickly under his collared gym uniform. Did he say something wrong? Did he sound too… emotional? “I’m sorry- I didn’t realize how close you two became while… going on a mission for communism and nazis.”

Alexei forced a laugh, still feeling the sweat pool on his forehead under his baseball cap. “We all make mistakes… But he didn’t know any better. I did.” 

“Well then, our first step of action, you tell me what The Red Room’s goal is,” Bill said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they steered onto an interstate. “And our second step is setting up the perfect trap.” 

The next day, after Alexei spilt everything he knew about The Red Room to Bill,  they called a meeting with a group of Agent’s to discuss the upcoming project, coded M21, after the first date of Spring. Alexei came up with it himself, him being the only one to chuckle at the “joke” he made. Bill took it seriously and praised him on coming up with a good codename. 

“Alright, before we go in, just tell them everything they need to know and they will help us, alright? I spent all night on this file for you to read from. We’re running out of time until you have to go back to being a teacher,” Bill ordered just before walking into the room of about seven skilled members of SHIELD specialized in tactical planning. 

They were appointed by Peggy herself. Alexei and Bill were supposed to have the meeting the day before, but Alexei took too much time adding new details and fumbling through practice “speeches” as he insisted on calling them, that the meeting had to be rescheduled to 6 in the morning. 

Alexei didn’t do well in the morning.

“Yes, sure, okay, you got it- now let’s get this party started, okay? Okay,” He said, throwing open the doors, Bill following closely behind with a smile, true fear underlying underneath his grin. First impressions mattered. He didn’t want to be stuck with people who didn’t take him seriously, and didn’t believe the winter soldier had been brainwashed. 

Alexei waved a red gloved hand at the Agents, giving a true smile, nervously fumbling around as he opened his mouth to speak, but then realized he had forgotten to take the file from Bill before they walked in. Thankfully, Bill noticed this and awkwardly stood behind him until he had his attention to give him it. 

“Sorry. It is morning. I did not wish you a good morning because, well, it is not a good morning. It has not been a good morning because my friend is killing people.”

Bill stumbled into his chair, rubbing his forehead as he looked around, only one thought going through his head. “If he’s supposed to be taken seriously, then this mission is doomed.”

[missvelvetsstuff]

Just A Number

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky at a party and the attraction is more than either one of them wants to resist.

Notes: Since most stories are younger readers I felt like having a more mature reader could be a nice change of pace. Especially since I'm creeping up on senior discounts and want to believe Bucky could fall in love with someone like me.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female, tall and this one is obviously 40+

This is what I have so far from the Bucky x Older reader story I've been working on.

Should I keep going?

Chapter 1

Y/N walked into the ballroom of Stark Tower holding hands with her sister, Dawn. She tried to keep her rubbernecking to a minimum but the decorations, the clothes and the celebrities! Too much going on.

She squeezed Dawns hand "Where is the bar in this place? I need a drink to take all this in. And where is Johnny?"

Dawn laughed softly and pointed "The bar is over there and I don't know where Johnny is." She rolled her eyes "Probably schmoozing with some politician or hitting on women while Olivia is too clueless to see it. I swear, she is too good for him."

Y/N nodded "That's not saying much, I know entitled Karen's that are still somehow too good for our dear brother."

They heard a familiar voice behind them "Would you stop saying I'm your brother Y/N? Foster families don't count. You're some orphan who tricked my dad into favoring you over his own son."

She laughed out loud "Oh dear brother Johnny, are you still mad that I wouldn't sleep with you when you were in high school? You would think you would be over that by now." and gave him a sweet smile "But thanks for getting us into this fancy shindig. Excuse me while I get something to drink."

She turned to her sister "Come on Sissy, Johnny is so dull."

Dawn nodded her head "That's for sure." They walked away holding hands and laughing at him.

Before they made it to the bar, Y/N stopped in her tracks and pulled Dawn back. "Ohmigawd. Lookit!! At the bar."

Dawn looked where she was pointing "Is that Sam Wilson? Shit! Does my hair look ok? My lipstick? Damn, look at him." She stared for a moment before flipping her hair, strutting to the bar and squeezing between Sam and some military stiff.

She ordered a drink and looked right at Sam "Hey handsome, you come here often?"

Sam almost choked on his drink at her forwardness "yes but I would have remembered you."

He gave her a big smile "How about I buy you a drink and we can talk about it?"

Dawn nodded and smiled at him before turning her head to look at Y/N "Text me if you need me" and winked.

Y/N chuckled at her sisters antics, she was never able to be so bold with men, and ordered a drink. She took her drink to one of the many tables scattered around and sat back to people watch. She saw the man that Dawn's new friend had been with, obviously the man formerly known as The Winter Soldier, trying to be subtle while checking her out. She hoped he spoke to her, she'd had a celebrity crush on him since high school and hadn't been laid in more months than she could count.

Bucky watched Sam walk away with one of the women who had been speaking to John Walker, and sat at the table next to the other one. He tried to be sly as he checked her out....a definite, what did Sam say? Right MILF. Not one of those desperate girls who tried to get his attention with too revealing outfits or too much make up but a woman. She wore a dress that didn't show much but was still sexy as fuck and she carried herself like someone who knew their worth without needing a partner to validate her. She was tall, taller than the woman she came in with. Probably 6ft or more with her heels. He thought about those long legs wrapped around his waist and felt the blood rushing south so tried to think of something else but her legs wrapped around his head flashed into his mind and he groaned softly.

She looked over at him "Are you alright? Don't tell me the food is bad."

Buckys face flushed and he chuckled "No, sorry. I was just thinking of something bad."

She turned towards him with a raised eyebrow and sultry grin. He couldn't help but stare as she crossed her legs and her dress rode up her thighs exposing more of her flesh.

"What kind of bad? The really bad kind or" she paused and looked him over, licking her lips "Or the good kind?"

Buckys breath hitched, why did he feel like a high school kid? She shifted slightly and the dress moved just enough for him to see the top of her stockings and the strap of her garter. He felt his heart stop, he had always loved the act of removing a woman's stockings, tracing down her leg, slow and sensual and-. Fuck, now he needed to adjust himself as he felt his pants tighten.

He flashed her a devilish grin and spoke softly "The kind that is so bad, it's really good."

He saw her gasp and heard her heart speed up. He knew he had to have her. So many of the women in this century were too damn easy and their idea of flirting was flashing him or shoving their tongue in his mouth. He had missed the chase, not that he didn't want her in his bed asap but he wanted to play with his meal first and the best meals played back.

"So why is a beautiful woman like you alone at a big party? You must have men and women lining up to be with you." He teased.

She giggled and he was entranced by the sound "No, there isn't anyone lining up for me. My brother is some kind of big deal with S.W.O.R.D. and my sister works at Stark. She didn't have a date so I'm her plus one."

"You sister the short blonde with Sam? She seemed friendly" he joked.

She laughed again and he wanted to know how to get her to make that sound all the time. "You're John Walker's sister, aren't you?"

She shook her head "Not if you ask him."

Bucky growled softly and she felt her panties moisten "I can't think of any circumstances that would make me ask him anything. His opinion isn't worth squat to me."

His nose flared, he could smell her, so sweet. He grinned realizing his growl turned her on.

"You have a husband or boyfriend?"

He saw a sad shadow pass over her face but it was gone so quickly he thought he might have imagined it. "Nope." She popped the p. "I'm as single as they come."

"I'm James" he offered his hand, she took it and they both felt it. He didn't want to let go of her hand, so soft and warm.

She gave him her name.

He flashed his best flirty smile "You wanna dance?"

She felt her face heat up and nodded shyly. He stood and pulled her up with him and out to the dance floor.

The song stopped and some 40s big band music came on.

She stopped at the edge of the dance floor "I don't know how to dance to this."

Bucky smirked "Don't worry doll, I've got you."

For the next 2 songs he led her thru some simple swing moves and she caught on pretty well between laughing at Bucky's stories.

A slow song came on and Bucky smiled before pulling her close. He whispered in her ear "You are so beautiful doll, you outshine every other woman here. And you smell so damn sweet. I could eat you right up" he growled when he realized that she liked hearing that and smiled at her shiver. He pulled back to look her in the eyes

"You wanna get out of here, sweetheart?"

Chapter 2

[qqueenofhades]

Completely shocking, out-of-the-blue prompt that I've never mentioned to you before, definitely not inspired by work:

Ivan is a grumpy librarian/archivist, and Fedyor is a researcher who comes by looking for information on Darklina and/or their connection to Nikolai, and he finds the background of a love story. Obviously, the main character is Ivan's Disgust at the Perception of Heterosexuality

The light in the windowless back office is dim, grainy, and often gives Ivan a headache within the first few hours of him getting to work, which is not ideal for improving his temper. (Then again, not much is.) And despite its flaws, he does vastly prefer it to actually having to interact with the library patrons, as there is literally nothing worse than that. Especially academics, who come in with their laundry lists and their obscure texts, their pet projects and their insistence that if he just looks harder, he's sure to find it this time. Ivan has entertained many, many happy visions of just walking out, locking the doors behind him, and setting the whole thing on fire. Not that he has done that, and he probably -- probably -- wouldn't. He needs this job. Employment for a notorious ex-special ops soldier is thin on the ground as it is, and especially when it means he can, if he plays his cards right, spend most of the day completely alone. But still.

It is now, however, winter break at Os Alta Imperial State University, which means the throngs of panicked students trying to finish their last-minute assignment have mercifully receded, and Ivan can mostly organize his boxes in peace. Or so he thinks, until the accursed tinkle of the Please Ring for Service bell summons him like a wrathful specter, sweater-clad and glowering, to the front desk. "What?!"

"Uh. Good morning to you too." The newcomer -- young, dark-haired, and holding a large manila folder which portends absolutely nothing good, raises both eyebrows. "Can I speak to the archivist?"

"You're speaking to him," Ivan growls. This welcome has caused more than one quaking undergraduate to flee in abject terror rather than ask for even one book, and he fondly hopes for a similar effect this time. But the newcomer -- too old for an undergrad, so probably an advanced doctoral candidate or junior lecturer -- is made of stronger stuff, and doesn't flinch. "Can I help you, Mr... ?"

"Doctor," the annoyingly handsome interloper (not that Ivan has noticed) informs him. "Dr. Fedyor Kaminsky. I'm the new lecturer in the history department, Modern Ravkan History, and I was hoping that you could retrieve a few records for me? Boxes..." He consults his notes. Ivan contemplates murder. "T-1343 and T-1345 especially?"

Oh, great. Not again. Kaminsky -- yes, he vaguely recalls that name, from a department telegram welcoming the new faculty and staff, but it is absolutely not germane to Ivan's further actions in any part. He knows what is in those boxes, and someone always thinks they'll find something there that hasn't already been found, removed, and/or heavily censored. Ravka's last tsar and tsaritsa, Nikolai Lantsov and his half-Shu queen, Alina Starkov, are a figure of fascination and mystery for plenty of people, even after the revolution and the establishment of the Konsilium and everything that befell them as a result. Especially their relationship with the so-called Darkling, Aleksander Morozova, one of the most enigmatic and controversial figures in all of Ravkan history. Doctor Fedyor Kaminsky thinks he's going to jump into his new job with that? Good luck.

"We don't have those boxes," Ivan says, which is almost true. The Konsilium strongly prefers, in general, that people don't look at them, and any other uncomfortable bits of their history. "Go away."

Fedyor Kaminsky folds his arms. "No."

Saints, Ivan thinks sourly. What has he done to deserve this purgatory? (The Konsilium has also tried to outlaw the Ravkan Faith, since they're all supposed to be modern and secular now and because nobody wants another Apparat, but old habits are hard to break.) He stares at Fedyor, who stares back. This is confounding. Why hasn't he run away in terror yet? Everyone else does.

"Sorry," Ivan says, and turns away. "Can't help. Good day."

Naturally, Fedyor Kaminsky does not take the hint. He's back again the next day, still politely and stubbornly repeating his request for those boxes, and when Ivan loathingly suggests that the library is on winter-break hours and does not have to accommodate him at all, cheerily asks if Ivan's boss, the director of special collections, would agree. The threat of workplace discipline (or Saints forbid, a note in his permanent file) is stiff enough to make Ivan finally, furiously recant. Fine. If Kaminsky wants to get himself fired before even finishing his first year, it's nothing to Ivan. Might be a perk.

So, when they're into the second week of the requests, Ivan gives in, stomps to the back, and angrily hauls down the boxes, which are gathering dust from all the times he has, according to the rules, refused access to them before. It's not wise for Fedyor to look at these materials in the open, so Ivan tells him to take them to one of the backside reading rooms -- which is right across from Ivan's office, and makes him grimly reflect that he should have planned it better. But Fedyor works steadily and mostly silently, which is always a commendation in Ivan's book, and finally, on one dead-silent freezing morning right after the Winter Fete, when they are literally the only two people in the library and probably all of campus, he gives in. "What are you looking for?"

Fedyor jumps, glancing up in patent surprise. They eye each other for a long moment, as if to be sure that Ivan Sakharov actually did, entirely of his own volition, initiate a conversation with another human being. Then finally, warily, he says, "What's it to you?"

Good, Ivan thinks. Good instincts, just in case I was in fact an informer for the Konsilium. "I don't care," he says aloud. "I was just curious. They seemed so important to you."

"I'm just working on something," Fedyor says, after a long pause. "Confirming a hypothesis. It'll probably get me into trouble, but -- " He shrugs, with no small amount of bitterness. "I'm used to that."

Ivan thinks about it. This can't go anywhere good, but they've been made a strange sort of partners in this buried secret, and he's almost gotten used to Fedyor working away outside his door. "What?"

"I think they were lovers," Fedyor says, after a final, reluctant moment. "Alina and the Darkling, that is, and then also Alina and Nikolai, and maybe all three of them together. I think it's a love story. And as for why this matters, well -- it wouldn't change anything about our own history right now, how it all ended. But the narrative has always been that the Darkling was this awful monster who had to be destroyed, and the Grisha were his secret shock troops determined to overthrow the country on his behalf, and that pulled Alina and Nikolai into some regrettable circumstance they couldn't control and that led to their tragic downfall -- you know. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't think it's true." Fedyor shrugs again. "I think everything we know about our own past, about the fall of the Imperial House of Lantsov, and about the Grisha, is a lie. And if that's the case, then the Konsilium knows it, or has covered it up, and that means -- "

"Shut up," Ivan interrupts roughly. "Saints. Don't talk like that. Someone could hear you."

"You could hear me." Fedyor smiles a little, a shadowed eclipse, and it does something very strange to Ivan's innards. "Does that matter?"

"I... " Ivan's mouth is dry. He can't look away. Not for any reason that means anything. "Never mind," he says, which seems the best and safest option, if it isn't already far too late. "Go back to work."

Fedyor eyes him a moment longer, then nods, a deliberate motion indicating that he knows and understands Ivan is choosing to keep his secret. Ivan himself doesn't know why, or what it is about Doctor Kaminsky, the feckless and foolish and fearless, that's gotten under his skin. It could be -- but no, it's not, it can't be that. From time to time, the very brave or very stupid actually think that Ivan himself is good-looking and try to flirt, and once a woman actually asked him on a date, which was the worst moment of his entire life (does he look like a heterosexual?!?!) But it's just shallow, surface-level, not like they're seeing him. Not like they know what monstrosity lies beneath. I think it's a love story. As if love matters. As if love, and the simple truth of it, can change the course of history.

Ivan shudders, once and then again. He looks at Fedyor for a very long moment, allowing himself -- just for that short and fleeting instant -- to imagine something he can never, never have. He grieves for it as if it was real, and then he lets it go. Turns, and walks away.