#looks kind of shitty and is very messy bcs i just wanted to see if i'd be able to convey their resemblance at all

[seaofreverie]

Sketched them.

[chris-continues]

Drinking you in,

A college student, Nai Saverem, acts a bit out of character. But maybe it truly is just him acting on his thoughts, or the random impulsivity of the night.

A smidgen of angst bc intoxication and saying yes DOES NOT EQUAL CONSENT hashtag facts

Inspired by my friend @yakulting ‘s Nai art! Check the post out here

It was a delightful sight, really.

Nai Saverem, your nervous, nerdy, reserved studying partner with a drink staining his cheeks and jaw, dripping down his jugular and clavicle and down to his open shirt. His lips were drenched with the substance. It’s in your best interest he doesn’t get severely drunk tonight, as you’re going to be the one handling his admittedly cranky ass tomorrow morning.

“Hey- hey, cool it with the drinking. I don’t want you getting hurt.” You walk to see him on the couch, tipsy Vash amused sitting beside him and poking his cheek as Nai waves his hand away. Parties like these usually weren’t his scene, and yours either- the crowd it attracted, the overstimulating noise and really shitty taste in music wasn’t to your liking, but it was meant to commemorate your survival after exams.

And you wanted to spend as much time with your friends and Nai as much as you could, so why not?

“Mmm..” he groaned, head tipped over the back of the couch as he lazily raised the bottle to his lips once more. “Make me,” he sneered, a turn to his lips as he smirked at your bewildered expression.

“I’ve got to have someone to complain to about how this party was mediocre at best, now come on!-“ you swiped the bottle from his hand, his fingers enclosing around your wrist and pulling you towards him.

You’re straddling Nai. You’re straddling Nai. You’re straddling Nai.

His hand drove into the small of your back and pushed you further into him, your body stiff as he took the bottle. Douchey tactic, sleazy tactic, getting you flustered in favor of a drink.

“Dude- seriously?” You tried to tug the drink away and it spilt the couch and your hand, it’s contents no longer neatly kept in the bottle. Not that they were beforehand, considering the damp state of Nai’s shirt and neck. The music boomed around you two, although it didn’t seem to affect him in his dazed state, pulling the drink closer and in return, shifting you in his lap. It felt fucking embarrassing and unprofessional in comparison to your usual greetings, gifting each other salutations and banter with fun conversations of the most random topics of passion you two oh so intensely harbored.

Well, you suppose you could say this was a type of passion. A lot more debaucherous kind of one.

His alluring, hooded gaze looked up at you, frost blue eyes peeking through his snowy lashes. Fuck, even when he’s wasted he’s gorgeous. Unfair.

“And why,” he clears his throat, a breath escaping him, “why do you care so much? You fret over me, and it isn’t your,” hiccup, “Duty to watch over me.” Fair. Very fair.

“..because..” he won’t remember tomorrow, right? “Who else watches over you?”

“This idiot.” His head gestures lazily to Vash, no longer beside him but dancing amidst the crowd. It’s hard to miss him with his bright clothing and recognizable height. You scoff, “As if he won’t be severely hungover tomorrow.” He always bit off more than he could chew.

“I’m your.. your friend Nai. Let me take care of you.” Your voice is soft in comparison to your prior statements, the words feeling far too vulnerable to be tossed into the air of an open room such as this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Not when he’s like this.

His hands on your waist tug you closer once again, “Mm, ok.” Before his cool, alcohol imbued lips press against yours. The bottle he’s holding is pressed to your back, half of his hand grasping your back in the meantime. Menial traces of his tongue and the messy meeting of lips almost draws you in before the harsh press of the bottle tugs you into the reality of the situation-

“No, no-“ you shake your head adamantly as you pull away, “You’re drunk. No.” You reaffirm, breath shaky. Are you a shitty person for enjoying that? If he remembers, he’ll probably recoil in disgust at the memory and your person as a whole.

No! No, you’re not. He fucking twisted your words into something.. something they weren’t. Well, not that you didn’t feel like that- did you? But that definitely wasn’t what you meant in the moment.

“Just.. just stop, ok?”

His hands fall to his sides as he shoves the bottle onto the coffee table behind you, moving you out of the way to make his way to Vash. He probably plans on calling an Uber back to their condo soon, you think.

He gives you no acknowledgment as he leaves once again.

[td-frog]

thoughts on disventure camp e4:

tom and jake

seeing people complain about tom being a hypocrite for snarking at jake here and i agree that it is hypocritical. but i don't think it's bad writing (i honestly really like it?)

like. tom and jake are messy. they have no communication. they overreact to everything. that's like their whole thing.

idk why tom ghosted after the first season, or while he's continuing to be distant (and now, more openly hostile). this is because the show hasn't told us yet. i assume, given that it's only episode 4 and this plot is getting a lot of attention, that there will eventually be some explanation. it doesn't really feel out of character to me at this point, just that we're missing information.

also specifically the reason i like this interaction is because it makes it very clear that tom is also being shitty here! like imo that was clear from the very start with the ghosting and dodging confrontation stuff, but more recently the focus has been on jake's jealousy. and while i do think jake is being unreasonable as well, tom is not innocent. as before, they are messy!!

villians' alliance and elimination

first off: i so called miriam being out this episode. didn't know the exact context, but in order for the alec helping fiore plot to work long term she needed to be out of the picture.

i like that she played well here though. like she did exactly what she should have done in the situation and it just didn't work out. sad to see her go, but not surprised.

poor connor tho :( my man's all alone now. i'm hoping that with grett turning on yul (you go girl) that maybe he'll last a bit longer

also yet again reminded why i love alec as a player and a villain. he's so good at planning and thinking things through, and he's not just thinking in terms of his own best interest. man plays this game like chess.

like. the rest of yellow team would have happily let ellie or fiore lose and get booted despite the alliance. alec's main goal was to get rid of miriam, but at the same time he was proving to ellie (and less so fiore) that he was also looking out for them.

i also like that it's not working out as cleanly as he'd like. miriam exposing him may not have been a problem here, but it will be later. in s1 he was able to largely fly under the radar for a while, and now is having to change tactics.

other thoughts

aiden and tess made me smile :) i want them to be friends

like ally's apology and hunter's non-apology (and fiore's wtf response). i think ally's really sweet and i get why fiore doesn't buy it but i'm glad someone on this team was like "maybe bullying a child is wrong"

ashley's backstory :(

predictions for next episode

elimination is harder to predict because the teams are even again. i'm thinking yellow team again makes the most sense, given the inevitable fallout of the villain reveal and the vote for yul. my guess would be connor vs. yul (vs. alec?) and of those three i see yul as most likely.

(could also be connor but the letter from miriam might save him somehow; i'm mainly doubting that they'd take him out of the competition here bc that'd be pretty unsatisfying for the connoriya drama. kind of leaning this actually bc yul being betrayed but not eliminated could also be juicy.)

if it's not yellow team... i could see gabby on cyan, mostly through process of elimination. tom and aiden need to stick around for the drama with jake, ellie's got the villain thing, and tess hasn't really gotten to do much other than be stuck in the middle of things.

gabby also hasn't really gotten to do anything besides support ellie, but i wouldn't be surprised to see her go early- like with james and lake, it feels like her character so far this season has been more in support of another character, and the impact her elimination would have on ellie feels like the most likely plot direction for this team to take.

that said idk why anyone would vote gabby out at this point. but i digress.

i really doubt it'll be magenta. fiore and jake have their own plots happening that i doubt will be wrapped up next episode, hunter and ally's relationship feels like it needs slightly more focus and deterioration before either of them goes home, and ashley just doesn't really seem likely?

aside from elimination

jake's gonna be sad about miriam. i think tom might be too, but unclear how exactly he'll react. will definitely make their whole thing worse, because for some reason they decided miriam should hold the brain cell of their relationship.

yellow team is definitely gonna have drama: fallout from miriam telling everyone alec was untrustworthy, the whole situation with grett and yul's relationship, connor being the only outsider to the alliance.

not sure what else- hunter and ally might have some plot progression, but i think those top two bullets will be the main points.

also whatever advantage connor got will definitely come up- seen speculation that it's like the "make people switch teams" card riya got in s2 but idk how that would play out

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

alex and tim hatefuck a lot but during one of the times they are getting rough with each other one of them actually gets hurt.

ohhhh my gosh. its late season three, tim is sooo exhausted. constantly having to join jay on all these stupid outings into the woods because hes worried jay will just die if tim doesnt go, meanwhile he knows alex has killed people, has done horrible horrible things. but.

(read more bc it got very long)

but.

they have kinda been having sex for a little while...

tim is pretty sure its an unspoken agreement too. no cameras. no tapes. no telling anyone. and they can be as rough as they want, because who even fucking cares anymore? the first time was in the woods, on the leaves and dirt in the middle of the night. then alex figured out which hotel tim was at, and they did it there. third time, alexs car. and then this time was back to basics, just tim roughing alex up at the doorway of his hotel room, making Sure that the camera was shut off and in the closet, joining tim's. they both bring the cameras every time. probably just habit to carry it around. and at first, they start right up against the door.... then the floor... then the bed and then back to the floor. theres a lot happening. but this is normal for them. its scratching and biting and hissing curses in between messy kisses. and it seems literally like any other time theyve done their little routine, up until the end.

tim is starting to get his shower ready while alex puts his clothes back on and promptly fucks off like usual, except this time he doesnt fuck off, hes kinda just sitting at the little desk in his underwear, squinting down at the shirt he shown up in. tim gives him a very unsubtle side eye. he doesnt want this prick here any longer than necessary. so he snaps something like, what is it. whats taking so long. and alex looks up at him, chest littered in bites bruises, and he mutters that its nothing, but its clearly not nothing, so tim has to sigh and walk over and see what his problem is. and when he gets closer, he notices that alex is looking kinda pale. the bruises showing up more starkly reddish purple against sort of greened, sickly skin. whats with you, he asks again. alex doesnt answer, until tim lightly swats the side of his head and asks again. alex grumbles that he just feels a little....dizzy. at first time is like, oh wow i fucked you so good that youre straight up like sick now? is that it? and alex is all NO >:-( but then it starts becoming clear he really does not feel well, and tim is kind of frustrated because he does still want to shower, and jay is probably going to want to go out looking around the hospital again tomorrow, but tim is a nice guy. he prides himself on still being kind despite the situation hes in. and he does have a little experience with sickly guys who feel like crap and dont know why, so he runs down the usual questions that he asks jay. when did you last sleep? i dont know, yesterday or the day before. have you eaten today? no- wait yes. well what was it? like a protein bar or something i dont know why does it matter??? then, does anything hurt? i dont know, my head i guess. mainly the back of it. and tim thinks back to earlier, and how he had, albeit a bit forcefully, slammed alex into the wall in order to bite the shit out of his neck. and he wonders... hm. could alex...... have hit his head? well, its likely.

so begrudgingly, tim drags alex to the shitty hotel bed, makes him drink a room temperature bottled water, and after wards alex has his head to his knees, empty stomach and pounding head not agreeing with all the water he'd just downed. and as tim rifles through the food he has on him, he wonders, not really for the first time, why they only have ever met at the places tim's staying before. of course, there was alex's car, but that's not really a place to STAY. he tosses some snack stuff to alex, sits on the bed, and asks him, hey, where are you staying these days anyway? alex snatches the food, tearing open one of the packages, and scowls at him. why do you care???? he looks starving. tim gets a scowl on his face too. well, doesnt It fucking like you or whatever? you seem to be its favorite after all, so i dont think it would really let you just sleep on the side of the road. alex sneers, clearly unamused, and keeps eating through a bag of pretzels. of course i have a place to stay, he snaps, and then doesnt elaborate. they sit in silence with that for a little while, tim more uncomfortably than alex. then he stands up and looks for his clothes and says hes gonna go to the ice machine. when he comes back, maybe he had also bought a few more snacks from the vending machine in the lobby. and maybe its a little gentle when he situates a makeshift icepack under alex's head. they dont do any of this after care shit usually, but tim wonders if maybe. well. maybe if theyre gonna keep doing this, then perhaps they should.

[starkiller-009]

Hello!! I love love love your arts. I feel like a lot of them have a sense of 'movement' which contrasts a lot of very polished artworks.

I love works with meticulously planned composition, layers, highlights, etc. I love works with a certain kind of loose yet purposeful application of value and colors. (The Two Cakes thing in the fandom). And I noticed that your arts belong to the latter category which I can rarely find!

If you don't mind me asking, do you have any artists or artworks that you're heavily inspired from? Do you draw on a pen-tablet, IPad, or other media? What application are you using? I feel like three questions are already too much for one ask so you don't need to answer them if you don't want to. I enjoy scrolling through your blog either way!

Hiiiiiiiiii dear anon!!! thank you soo much for sending this message! it made my day 🧡🧡🧡 Loose but thoughtful art is what im striving for so its really make me happy to hear that i have some success in that Answering your question i draw using some cheap old model of genius pen-tablet. Bought it 10 years ago as my first device. Still running. Heard a lot of shitty comments about quality of genius tablets at that time, but even more only about Wacom in recent years i think (fuck them. Wtf with pen's tips that are constanty erasing. For who this product is made for. Ew). as for the apps, i use clip paint studio, for studies - heavypaint (great thing). There are AMAZING artists on tumblr who inspire me heavily with their works. like. i follow ~400 ppl here. because i like to stare at art. so. im gonna talk about my favorites! @crowthis - king. queen. i dont know the pronounces sorry. they draw magnificent things i love their style SO much, its such an inspiration. sometimes i just visit their blog to go through art tag and experience all that beauty. (half of their wrks i have downloaded on my desktop) It's loose, quite 'chaotic', but SO atmospheric. The mood, composition, texture, everything. Themes. I like black and white drawings as much as the ones with colours, it so bright and blatant\bold in a way, but it works perfectly, it gives your the right sense of the work. Even tho usually i prefer more calm colours, it makes me go 'wow!' And their works looks really simple and intuitive but as an artist you know that haha no its fcking hard to do things like that. it takes skill and knowledge. loose work is tricky

@frozensoba - idk how much time i could stare at their recent fish drawings like jesus christ. i wish i could do that. i want to be able to do that. my ass is ready to work every time i see it and drawings like these really inspire me to draw simple things and non-humans bc i feel like you can draw beautifully everything that exists. you just need to know how. Colours, texture, rhytm, lines... everything on its place. I love colours especially. Its very gentle kind of harmony going on there, and the palette is huge, intricate.

@nerdyhideoutphilosopher-2 - going crazy over their works. honesty dont know what to say. go look and see. unique voice Artists id like to mention as well: @dynasoar5 - i mean. just go and look at that. i love how loose and messy kind of rendering is but it looks amazing. and overall. simply amazing drawings fuck yes @jadenvargen - just go and look at his works. i see no point in talking. simply beautiful. looks easy but also hard as fuck. the colours are so bright and rich and very bold but somehow everything is right on its place. it leads you where it should. just wow. the skill i respect @snippit-crickit - once again. beautiful. i really love their studies and how they render things, the colours. @sen-art-acc - LINE WORK. LINE WORK. go check it out. LINE WORK!!!! and i simply like how tidy and clean the drawings look like with colours. i cant do stuff like this. i have zero patience to be this accurate and precise. Also if you love loose artwork i should recommend you those artists for sure @shican, @dude-standin i love as well @wuntrum and @cordspaghetti works a lot. I followed both of them because mcr fanart i guess? tho never was into mcr and stayed for the drawings alone Also, if we're speaking about more "pro" (dont like this term either, forgive me) kind of artists i have some huge inspirations as well (tho my art not in any way reminds of them im afraid lmao. but i hope maybe in ten or ok 30 years or more ill be somewhere). There are a ton of artists i like, but its for another post i guess. To much talk. So here we go Sergio Toppi - he's an amazing at working with lines and composition. I have his comic books on my bookshelf. I open it everytime i want to get energy to draw. You cant look at his drawings and NOT to get inspired. He's incredible. The rhytm, the shapes... damn. i can look at his drawings for hours. And he was the main inspiration to work with lines and composition more, to play with it more. I dont have a lot of line-work on this acc (last quiobi drawing, some year\two-old dghda drawings, eugene one) but i actually exercise it a lot. Lines are extremely powerful tool. And as for composition... The shapes, negative spaces, love it. And he's extremely good at working with colour too.

Francis Vallejo - he's illustrations are so good... he's incredible with composition and rhytm his drawings have. Negative spaces, one again.

Anders Zorn - i adore his black and white graphic drawings. Angles, framing, line work. Spent a lot of time looking at his works. Cant get enough of it. The way he draws people, the plot, themes. What he chooses to portray, the way people look, what they do. There is such a special mood to his drawings, there is something extremely psychological about it, isn't there? he's a master im mesmerized by

Bernie Fuchs - composition, rhytm, once again. I love it when you want to look at something for more then 2 seconds, because the rhytm of the drawings leads you into different places and opens its plot in parts. No matter where you look u'll find something interesting and even though there is lot of going on its still not a mess and looks and feels fucking awesome. And i love his colour palettes too. He's very good at setting the mood (check out his less commercial works)

As for the colour here's a few i love. (Though they're still extremely good with everything else)

Hovsep Pushman - the man is a mystery. His work with colours, light and texture is beyond me. Also it has disco elysium vibe to it. I dream of being capable of something like this when im sixty or so (im not gonna be)

Mead Schaeffer - simple but powerful. Looking at his works like eating a tasty ice cream.

same goes to Dean Cornwell - though its a bit more complex, his composing. You need to pay more attention

I'd like to mention one other artist - Jamie Wyeth. his works are something else entirely, i dream of drawing like this one day. Loosiness, themes, mood. Ill probably cry if i see those ones in real life one day, somehow special to my heart, relates

He has these series - "Seven deadly sins". Ive been in love for some time

As for the inspiration drawings on itself - thinking about it im coming back to dragon age tarot cards. Not all of them, but i still go 'jesus i want to draw like this' at some, through years. This one especially.

Soooo Thats it i guess! I mean. I love to talk and talk about art especially. I probably could write ten more posts like this no problem. I actually heavily into landscape painters since... Well. Nature. Ice, oceans, sky. I sadly havent really tried to get into the genre myself, i do not draw lots of backgrounds as you can see. Should work on this probably, life's short. But im always happy to share my fav artists! So hit me up whenever. dm or send an ask! And a beautiful work for the ending

[plctwists]

HAN SOHEE  23  FEMALE  SHE/HER — ; where do you get your inspiration, KIM MINA ? you’re so INTUITIVE , i can’t help but think of DYING ROSES , DRINKING EXPENSIVE WINE FROM THE BOTTLE AT DAWN , A MESS OF CIGARETTE BUTTS , WET BRUSHES AND CRUMBLED PIECES OF PAPER when i hear your name . your friends tell me you can be FLIGHTY sometimes . i guess it’s understandable given the circumstances. besides , i can’t even imagine how stressful PAINTING classes must be — not to mention you’re also in THE RED AND GREEN CLUB ! you’re a NEWCOMER , right ? yeah, i thought so . either way , welcome to mugunghwa ! 

hi all! i’m max, she/her, 21+ and super excited to be here! ‪♡‬ my new years resolution is to be active for the next 3 months so i can find out who k*lled jisoo :D anyways, this is my little manic pixie dream girl, flighty escapist painter miss kim mina! she’s still very much a wip and it’s my first time writing a character like her, so please do excuse any messiness and characterization issues thank u 

(also do like this post if you would like to plot!!) 

and more info about her can be found in her about page here ‪♡‬

basics

scorpio sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising

born 12 november 1999 in seoul 

lived in berlin for seven years when she was eight 

currently a second year painting major, specializes in oil painting & dabbles in watercolor. was previously at seoul national university

personality n vibes

infp

positive traits: caring, intuitive, creative, self-aware

negative traits: self-centered, escapist, dishonest, flighty

neutral traits: imaginative, secretive

character inspirations: the white lotus s2’s daphne, nevertheless’ jae eon, looking for alaska’s alaska young, if we were villains’ meredith, industry’s yasmin

archetypes the hedonist, the hopeless romantic

associated aesthetics: dying roses, messy rooms and messier lives, running away when things get hard, cigarettes butts and wet brushes carelessly strewn into an empty bottle of expensive wine, sharing knowing smiles in crowded rooms, vintage chanel bags stained with paint

trivia

best way to describe her: sweet but incredibly unreliable. soft-spoken with an air of mystery around her. the type to give you a vague, non-descript answer.

distances herself from reality because a. she doesn’t want to confront her trauma and b. it’s more fun romanticizing and dramatizing everything anyways

the kind to pretend that bad things don’t happen (she lives by the motto: “do whatever you have to do to not feel like a victim of life.”)

morally gray compass. will always find excuses for herself whenever she does something objectively wrong.

a manic pixie dream girl because she wants to be. deep down she knows that she’s fucked up and everything’s fucked up but would rather avoid a crushing reality than face it bc she has the opportunity to choose to ignore it. she may be self-centered and an escapist, but she’s not that stupid and not that unaware. she’s just wilfully ignorant rly

desperate for love, given her lack of love during her childhood, sort of a pushover but see below: will hurt u behind your back

she would never hurt someone, she says. but she is perfectly fine with doing it behind her backs and finding some justification on why it wasn’t that wrong anyways (shes a gaslighting queen)

she’s a fucking liar - misremembers events (wanting to dramatize them? just lives in a world of her own? no one fucking knows), saying whatever it takes to incite the reaction she wants, telling one thing to one person and another to someone else, always refusing to admit that she has lied

if you ask if she loved jisoo... she wouldn’t really have an answer. but she did love the idea of jisoo - the knight in shining armor, the boy who swept her off her feet away from shitty seoul

after jisoo’s death, nothing has really changed about mina which has led to a lot of talk about her “suspicious behaviour” but in reality, mina is detaching from the situation (as with what she did with her sister)

she’s numb about it, hasn’t really allowed herself to process - instead, throws herself into painting, buying expensive shit, dying her hair, speaking about him in present tense

background (tw death) 

summarising to things u need to know: parents dgaf about her, older sister died when she was six and she started building her own world, sent to berlin to study, came back to korea, cheated on her then-bf with her best friend’s boyfriend so she ran away with jisoo to mgh 

youngest only child of the kim family (tbc on what they do but they are rich but they are not in art world)

family lacked love, as with most rich families. hers never even tried - mum was a socialite, too busy chasing her youth with champagne flutes and mercurial highs to give a shit about her. dad just gave a shit about work more. maybe they never wanted children? maybe it was just part of their societal duties? mina has never tried to understand it and perhaps, never wants to

had an elder sister who she was quite close to

but when she was six, her sister passed away in a freak accident 

mina’s escapist tendencies intensified

made up stories about adventures of her and her deceased elder sister, started drawing and painting disturbing material to the point that her nanny, concerned over mina’s development, begged her parents to send mina for a psychological checkup

they found nothing wrong but her parents distanced themselves even further. she’s not sure whether it was because they couldn’t handle the loss of her older sister, or she scared them, or that they realized that there was no point even trying anymore

one of her parents’ friends and a teacher at her prestigious school saw that she had a gift for art, told her parents mina had potential 

she was then shipped off to berlin to hone her art in a prestigious art school

when she was fifteen, her grandparents threatened to cut her parents out of their will if mina didn’t come home, and so, she was sent back to korea for her high school years, where she did struggle to fit in but it wasn’t like mina really tried. continued painting, went on frequent overseas trips to europe, stirred a lot of shit and ruined many friendships

got into seoul national uni - started sleeping with her best friend’s boyfriend, even though she was taken herself (why? for the shits and giggles? for the inspiration? just because mina wanted to? because he looked at her drunk one night and said, “you’re really pretty” and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she did it behind her best friend AND boyfriend’s back, just to get the brief affection of someone who doesn’t even matter now? who the fuck knows)

essentially fucked her entire social life over and that was when mina realized she fucked up because seoul wasn’t like berlin where she could just run away and never return

around that time as well, she’d been talking to jisoo and when he (deeply in love with her at that point, and unaware of what had transpired) suggested she transferred over to mugunghwa, mina felt that it was the best possible option given the whole dramatic mess of her life.

over at mugunghwa, no one really knows what happened in seoul or why mina transferred. there are rumours about it though 

wanted connections

thank you if you made it this far! she only recently transferred to mgh during the spring semester so i don’t really have that many wanted connections!! always open to brainstorm :)

someone who has an inkling of what went down in seoul and is/was deeply suspicious of her relationship with jisoo

someone who puts her on a pedestal, and truly believes she is as great as they say her to be 

someone who keeps her grounded? or as grounded as possible? 

someone she does not like because they were mean to her face lol 

painting classmate friendships ‪♡‬ 

[zushimart]

hi idk if this is a weird ask or not bc im half asleep but i just wanted to say that i started following u on my old blog in late 2022 like maybe december and your posts about bpd scara made me feel so seen. i wasn't diagnosed then but it was recently on the table as a diagnosis for me all of a sudden and it was terrifying because i feel like pwbpd are demonized and hated everywhere i look. and just like scrolling thru ur bpd scara tag was like looking at a diary of my own mind or smth. so it was really new to me to see someone talk about borderline as something that brings love and pain into our lives and not just as some scary evil-people diagnosis. like ur definitely my fav writer on this app by far but also u make me feel really validated in my emotions i guess? wow idk sorry like i actually have no idea how to describe it but hopefully u can read minds ‼️ 🤞 i have since been diagnosed with bpd with a criteria score of 9/9 so 😳 idk where id be rn in september 2023 if i hadn't sort of started to learn to love myself from your writings exploring a character. so yea this is probably a strange ask so feel free to ignore it. also im going on anon bc im scared of interacting w ppl. ALSO U R SO FUNNY ND YOUR HUMOR/RANDOM FUNNY TAGS FEEL SO SIMILAR TO MY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

this is such an open & genuine thing to say to me . i like had to sit with it for a second because it was so .. idk like how to communicate it . my devaluation of ths blog is pretty frequent, treating it sort of like a big boy version of the 2000s children’s diaries with locks.. my thoughts tossed in here nd piled nd piled nd piled, endlessly messy. nd it objectively is a writing blog , like yeah, on a surface level, i own& maintain a writing blog, but i would never tell people that. when people ask my hobbies i always say writing & ill show them my poetry pieces but i never tell them i have a blog because im kind of embarrassed by the very seriously delusional self indulgence i pour into this thing . but then i hear about.. like, for ex. we learned ab and have to maintain our own commonplace book in class, which is essentially where people collected anything and everything they felt needed to be archived from their day and tucked it into the pages of a journal . like how thomas jefferson’s commonplace book will have his serious philosophical & political ramblings side by side a recipe for cornbread because it was just a place to put everything big & small . the practical & the theoretical. just, whatever Means something to u. and leisure, indulgence, pleasure r concepts just as important as virtues imo. anyway i say all this to say that what u said to me makes me want to treat everything better, even this place. it like, makes me feel really proud of my writing& analyses that i might normally b quick to label as inconsequential or childlike because im scared people will think i care too much about something so culturally insignificant. but i do care!! obviously!! a lot. i was like kind of bummed today for a number of reasons frm feeling a bit isolated to feeling like living out my principles& ideals (connecting w community, peer centered thinking etc etc) is almost impossible because im sooo freaking shitty at social convention. so when u sent this in & i read it, it was almost like when ur spacing out nd someone snaps 🫰🫰 in front of ur face to get ur attn. so busy trying 2 b significant to someone to realize that u Already are significant in a myriad of little ways. that it’s not something u search for or insert urself into but rather an inevitable outcome of existing. Anyway . not to b sentimental but i wanted 2 b as candid with u because i really did think it was sweet of u to share & im really happy that i was able 2 positively shape & support a little space of ur life because really thats all i ever want to do. Soooooooooo if ur ask was weird then my response is even weirder. Handwritten thank u:

[t-lostinworlds]

gosh i read this and i was trying to piece together my thoughts about it but first i scrolled through the notes and saw this and i usually don't do a reblog on a reblog but i agree with everything that's said above so much i just had to. but with a few things to add

okay, first off, i'm all for the cut-his-dick-off-when-he-cheats attitude and i'm probably one of the many ppl who'd have a difficult time forgiving a cheater (but i do believe not everything is black & white and ppl can change and learn and grow and yada yada). i usually do have qualms when cheating fics end in with the reader forgiving the main character but surprisingly, this ending didn't make me feel that way. if anything, i felt satisfied with how it turned out. and that's bc of how well you showed both sides and wrote all the emotions that just made me understand them both AND most importantly, The Growth™️. like i came out of this not thinking one was the villain and the other was a victim, i came out of is thinking that they're both so human—messy, emotional, confused, stupid, but also, kind, forgiving, empathic, loving and so forth.

with that said, i really don't consider this a "cheating fic" per se, to my interpretation of it, at least. it's a fic mostly of grief, heartbreak, self-destruction, betrayal but also learning and growing and healing and second chances. like, the cheating part was, not really small, but it wasn't the main focus of the fic. it simply was the point where everything finally came to a head. like a very cruel and hurtful wake up call for both of them.

did i want to smack bucky upside the head with the way he acted and what he did and basically abandoned her when she needed him bc he was a goddamn coward who was so far up his ass and who had no functioning brain cell? YES. very much so. the amount of times i called him stupid was unmatched. Now do i understand why he acted that way and understood how he was pushed bc of what he was going through? absolutely. his explanation made me see things from a different perspective that i couldn't see him at a point of no return. a.k.a. he's not past forgiveness in some way. don't get me wrong, what he went through in his life doesn't excuse the shitty things that he's done in his relationship. it's a contributing factor yes but it doesn't mean he's immediately excused bc of it. but it does make me empathize with him more bc he's only human after all. he made mistakes. he regrets it and is actively trying to right it and do better. bc he's someone who definitely needed guidance and help, someone who was broken and who in turn didn't know how to handle his emotions and ended up hurting the one he loved most.

but the important thing was, you showed how both of them are on the path to healing not only from what happened between the both of them but individually as well with their own respective demons. and i'm glad they took the time to find themselves on their own first and then decided to stay friends and that reader actually tried to look for someone else before even entertaining the idea to start over with her and bucky's relationship. like it's not immediate, it took time and as it should have done. especially with bucky still needing to prove himself.

but yeah, you showed the growth of them as individuals so so well that the "them" i saw in the first couple of paragraphs weren't the same ppl in the ending. it gave me hope that hey, maybe they will get their happy ending this time around. bc i don't consider that ending the actual ending for them. it's more of a beginning, starting something entirely new bc again they're not the same ppl. and i feel they're healthier mentally and emotionally now so there's a higher chance of them working out. it's only a journey from here and i have faith that they will get their actual happy ending.

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now  

"Fuck you," you spat the words.    

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.   

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."   

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.   

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"   

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."   

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.   

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."   

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.   

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.   

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.   

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.  

Please, fix this.   

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.  

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"   

"Don’t fucking touch me."   

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."   

"Can you just—"   

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."   

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.   

He deserved it either way.  

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh. 

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.  

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.  

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.  

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.  

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him  

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.  

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.  

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."  

"Oh."  

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.  

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize. 

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.  

Could you ever forgive him?  

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.  

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.  

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take. 

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.  

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.  

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?  

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.  

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.  

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.  

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.   

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.  

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips. 

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.  

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.  

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.  

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.  

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.  

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.  

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.  

"Good"  

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.  

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.  

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.  

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"  

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.  

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.  

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.  

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.  

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.  

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.  

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.  

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.  

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.  

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.  

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.  

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you." 

Then  

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.  

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.  

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.  

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.  

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.  

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.  

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.  

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.  

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.  

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."  

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.  

God, you were beautiful.  

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.  

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.   

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.  

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.  

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.  

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.  

"I’m James."  

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name. 

Now  

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"  

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.  

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.  

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.  

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.  

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now. 

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.  

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."  

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.  

But he couldn’t say anything.  

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you. 

"Say something!"  

"You’re beautiful."  

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.  

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.  

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?  

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."  

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.  

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.  

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.  

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.  

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.  

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said. 

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.  

"What do you want?" You sighed.  

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."  

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"  

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women. 

"They had traces of the super serum."  

Fuck.  

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk. 

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."  

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.  

"Yeah."  

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization. 

This was different, though. This was sinister.  

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.  

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."  

"Well, let’s take him in and—"  

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."  

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.  

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.  

Compromise. You could do compromise.  

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes. 

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.  

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.  

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"  

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.  

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.  

So he agreed.  

"Yeah."  

"Good. I’ll meet you outside." 

Then  

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.  

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.  

The man was hotter than the sun.  

"No problem." you smiled at him.   

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.  

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.  

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.  

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.  

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.  

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.  

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"  

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."  

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."  

"You would?" he questioned.  

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement. 

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.  

You made him smile for the first time.  

"Yeah. I’d like that."  

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.  

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more. 

Now  

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.   

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."   

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.   

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.   

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.   

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.   

Broken.   

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him   

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.   

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.   

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.   

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.   

"Bucky!"  

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.  

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.  

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.  

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him. 

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?  

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking. 

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."  

"You didn’t."  

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.  

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.  

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."  

"Oh."  

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.  

"He said you’re going to therapy."  

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.  

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."  

You hummed, sipping on your tea.  

"Does it work?"  

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.  

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself  

But he broke the silence.  

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."  

"What do you mean?"  

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."  

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.  

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.  

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."  

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.  

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.  

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together  

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.  

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents. 

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."  

His shoulders dropped slightly.  

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."  

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.   

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed. 

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.  

A cup of lavender tea. 

Then  

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"  

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.   

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?  

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.  

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.  

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora. 

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.  

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.  

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.  

"It’s ok. I got you."  

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed. 

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.  

He would give you anything you asked for.  

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.  

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth  

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.  

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."  

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.  

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea. 

 Now  

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.  

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.  

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.  

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.  

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.  

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.  

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.  

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.  

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.  

It was his fault. It was all his fault.  

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.  

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.  

"I—"  

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."  

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.  

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself. 

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.  

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."  

"He was about to torture you!"  

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.  

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."  

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.  

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."  

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"  

"I’ve always cared."  

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.  

"Sure."  

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.  

"Look at me."  

You swatted him away.  

"Don’t fucking touch me."  

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.  

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."  

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."  

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.  

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.  

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."  

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?  

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."  

"I never stopped loving you."  

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation. 

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.  

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"  

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart. 

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you. 

"I’m sorry."  

A lapse of judgment.  

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.  

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had. 

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.  

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.  

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been. 

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.  

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken. 

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."  

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.  

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.  

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.  

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his. 

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.  

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.  

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.  

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.  

Beg me, your eyes said.  

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.  

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."  

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.  

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment. 

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.  

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.  

"Fuck."  

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.  

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.  

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.  

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.  

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.   

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.  

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.  

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.  

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.  

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.  

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.  

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.  

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.  

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.  

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.  

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.  

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.  

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."  

"Me too." he finally admitted.  

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.  

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.  

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.  

"Inside."  

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.  

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.  

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.  

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.  

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.  

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.  

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.  

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.  

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever." 

Then  

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.   

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.  

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.  

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.  

Oh, how right you had been.  

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.  

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.  

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.  

Bucky had been real.  

With his departure, he had also taken your heart. 

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.  

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.  

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.  

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.  

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.  

That is, until a ray of hope appeared. 

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.  

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.  

Steve left shortly after.  

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.  

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.   

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.  

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.  

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer. 

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.  

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.  

This Bucky never hugged you. 

This Bucky never talked to you with love  only with annoyance and indifference.  

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.  

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.  

This Bucky never said I love you.  

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.  

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.  

Things got worse a couple of months later.   

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.  

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.  

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.  

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.  

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.  

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.  

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.  

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.  

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."  

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence. 

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.  

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.  

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.  

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."  

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.  

You were wrong.  

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.  

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.  

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.  

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.  

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.  

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.  

Knock, knock, knock.  

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.  

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."  

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.  

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."  

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.  

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."  

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.  

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.  

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.  

 You left with half a heart that night.  

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.  

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"  

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.  

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.  

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.  

"Hi."  

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.  

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.  

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less. 

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"  

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.  

"Yeah, of sorts."  

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."  

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.  

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.  

"Oh."  

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.  

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.  

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.  

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.  

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.  

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.  

"You have a nice place here."  

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.  

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.  

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.  

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.  

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.  

It couldn’t be.  

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.  

"Clara let me in."  

No.  

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."  

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.  

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run. 

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.  

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"  

His mouth answered without his permission.  

"Does it even matter?"  

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.  

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."  

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.  

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore. 

Now  

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.  

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.  

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you. 

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room. 

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern. 

"You ok?" he had whispered.  

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.  

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.  

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out. 

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.  

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?  

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"  

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"  

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"  

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.  

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.  

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.  

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress. 

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.  

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance.  A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.  

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.  

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.  

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot. 

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever. 

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.  

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.  

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his. 

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"  

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.  

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.  

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.  

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."  

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."  

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.  

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."  

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.  

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment." 

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.  

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would." 

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.  

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."  

Hope. A tiny silver of hope. 

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"  

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."  

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to." 

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness. 

Forever 

"Thanks for helping me."  

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."  

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.  

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with. 

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.  

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.  

"How was your date?"  

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest." 

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you. 

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."  

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Batnes.  

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.  

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.  

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise. 

"What?"  

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.  

"Bucky, ask me."  

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.  

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.  

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"  

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.  

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."  

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.  

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different. 

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.  

This time, neither of you was scared. 

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

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[guess-my-next-obsession]

Plastic Hearts

Chapter Three: Prisoner

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (Violet Apollo)

chapter rating: M (talks of dieter’s shitty parents, insecurity, these two pining for each other but being scared little shits, sexual desire, weed use, brief mention of hollywood being filled with predators, dieter’s awful parents, cocaine use (pls think before you use cocaine in 2022, it’s just fucking fentanyl and not worth it), me writing Matt Smith into this for a second bc i couldn’t resist, asshole!dieter returns, voyeurism?? a little??, oral sex male receiving, fuck these two are a mess)

word count: 5.5k

authors note: listen i had to write a fucking SNL monologue for Dieter and it was hard and it’s not very good and shout out to all the writers at SNL having to do that every week lmao

series masterlist | series playlist

“You seem to really like this one. Been staring at it for ten minutes now,” Dieter leaned to the side, whispering to Violet as they stood in the MoMA, staring at Monet’s Water Lilies. “I always thought shit like this is too pretty. I like my art like I like my women—“

“Abstract?” She turned to give him a smirk.

“Well, I was gonna say without meaning and overpriced, but sure—abstract.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“I love this painting,” she mused in a powder soft voice, Dieter’s eyes softening as he stared at her profile like she was the real work of art. “Everything about it. It is too pretty, you know? But some shit just is. And you can see the brushstrokes in it—it’s messy, it’s imperfect, and yet it’s so…fucking pretty, you know? So soothing and romantic and…nothing that you’d ever think would come out of a bunch of brushstrokes on a canvas. It’s pretty and it’s messy and it’s just…all the things.”

“I could listen to you talk about art for a lifetime, Miss Apollo,” he confessed quietly, just for her to hear. Sometimes he wanted something just for the two of them to have. A whisper, a look—a moment of authenticity.

The couple was constantly surrounded these days, bodyguards and assistants and handlers and fans—eyes always locked on them as though they were waiting for something to happen, missing the only thing really happening—a budding friendship.

Violet met his eyes and stared at him with the kind of awe that would make any man crumble.

“Take me to one you like,” she insisted, her eyes turning to meet his. Dieter smiled to himself and nodded, slipping his hand into hers more naturally now that he actually wanted to. Violet held onto his bicep with her free hand, the “couple” no longer sure what was for show and what was sincere anymore.

“You know, I grew up in New York most of the time as I kid,” Dieter began as the couple and their entourage walked through the museum, keeping his voice low so that only she would be able to listen.

“Yeah?” She turned her head a bit to watch him nod, his index finger and thumb rubbing his the hair on his chin.

“Yeah, my parents wanted me as far away as fucking possible.” Violet frowned at him as he glanced over at her, a small chuckle leaving the typically stoic man. “To be fair to them, I was a little shit from day one.”

“You were a child, D. Little shit or not, you deserved to have your parents around.” She spoke it as though it was simply a fact, but that little sentence had been the hardest one to accept, even through years of therapy. He didn’t feel like he deserved it—acceptance, their presence, love. “I know your mom is Marianne Ward, who’s your dad?”

Dieter was impressed by her knowledge on his mother’s career. She mostly spent her career doing artsy indie flicks rather than the shit most people saw. Aside from her Oscar nomination, she hadn’t really been much of a starlet.

“Ed Bravo—he’s a producer—“

“Yeah, didn’t he also try his hand at directing? What was the film called—Humoring Colossus?” Dieter stopped abruptly, causing the group around them to also halt. He shook his head and chuckled at her, his eyes wide with awe and intrigue.

“You’ve seen that shit?” He asked with disbelief, Violet chuckling at his theatrics as she nodded. “You’ve got to be like one of only ten fucking people to have even heard of that film. That’s impressive.”

“Don’t think too highly of me, I mainly watch obscure films like that to sound cooler than I actually am,” she assured with a smile, waving him back towards her.

Dieter grabbed her hand again, Violet resuming her hold on his arm as they walked up to a canvas hanging on the wall, smudged with black streaks of ink—chaotic and yet somehow orderly. Violet leaned closer to read the card beside it: Julie Mehretu, Invisible Sun (algorithm 5, second letter form), 2014, ink and acrylic on canvas.

“Now this…speaks my language.” Dieter studied the painting with puckered lips, his fingers rubbing his chin as he focused on it.

Violet meant to study it with him, she really did, but the current view of his deep contemplation was more awe-inducing than any work in the building could ever dream to be. Here he was in all his natural glory, hair tousled into messy waves and curls like he just got out of bed an hour ago, the greying patches on his beard almost forming two little hearts (ironic, she thought, for a man so averse to romance).

“I met the artist once at a gallery opening, and I tried to talk her into letting me buy it. Offered way too fucking much for it, but she said she preferred it here.”

Dieter turned his eyes, catching Violet in her gaze. He would’ve smiled at the sight of her studying him so closely if it hadn’t made him sick to his stomach with nerves.

Truthfully, he didn’t know if he wanted her swooning for him—if that’s what was beginning to happen. Not enough had changed about him for him to be welcoming anyone into his life like this. He was still a short tempered, emotionally unavailable man with unresolved mommy and daddy issues.

Though he’d been behaving on their week-long stay in New York—keeping to his side of the two-bedroom hotel suite, only smoking weed, and finding the strength to remain celibate—it was all bound to come to an end at some point. He had itches he needed to scratch, and though she’d been able to see the best he had to offer this week, he wasn’t sure she’d be so quick to stare at him with awe if she saw the other shit—the side that most everyone else got to see besides her, hence why they all hated him.

Dieter cleared his throat, snapping Violet out of her daydream, her eyes batting away her admiration as she turned to focus on the painting. “It certainly screams you, Dieter.”

“How so?” He asked, his head tilted.

“It’s chaotic, but clearly brilliant. It’s black and white but it’s also grey, you know? It’s…a whole combination of things. I don’t know why, it’s just you.” Dieter felt both thrilled by her observation and weighed down by it.

If she understood him so well, could she already see the storm on the horizon? Did she even care? Why didn’t that help soothe his anxiety? Why didn’t that cure him of the itch in his palms?

“I’m feeling kind of tired,” she looked back at him, something clearly weighing on her mind, though he knew her well enough to know that she was much too sober to speak it. “I think a nap sounds nice before we have to go to the show.”

“Okay,” he nodded and turned around to find his assistant, Raf. “Can you call Violet a car to go back to the hotel?”

“Sure thing,” the young man nodded and walked away to call the car.

“Thought maybe you would join me.” Violet’s hopeless voice pulled at Dieter’s heartstrings. Though he hadn’t realized she’d been offering for him to join, even if he wanted to cross that line, he couldn’t. He was hosting SNL that night and had dress rehearsals all afternoon.

“Wish I could,” he pinched her chin and gave her an apologetic smile, neither of them paying attention to the fan that was approaching their entourage.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m such a big fan of both of them. Could I just say hi?” Dieter turned his head around to take in a teenage girl desperately pleading with his head of security.

“It’s okay,” Violet interjected, waving the girl over. “Oh, I love your skirt. Where’d you get it from?”

“I made it, actually,” the girl blushed and giggled nervously, eyes hardly meeting either of the actors’.

“What’s your name?” Dieter asked, his casually cool persona back on.

“Violet, actually.” She chuckled and looked to Dieter’s Violet. “I’m such a big fan of yours—both of you. I watched you on broadway last year.”

“Oh, really?” Dieter gave her a smile. “Thought nobody came to that show.”

“Well, I loved it. And Violet, you’re amazing in literally everything you’re in. I’m such a big fan of yours. I actually—“ She held up her phone, showing them her lockscreen. It was a fan edit of Violet in her MCU debut role—the one that landed her her current job.

“Oh, wow,” Violet blushed and gave the girl a bashful smile. “You’re so sweet. Can I give you a hug, Violet?”

“Sure,” the girl willingly accepted the hug from her hero, Dieter watching the entire scene unfold before his eyes.

A truly good person, that Violet Apollo. Too good for the industry she worked in. Way too fucking good for him.

After taking a picture with the fan, Dieter walked Violet out of the museum, cameras waiting for them when they stepped out into the brisk autumn breeze of New York City. Dieter opened up her door into the SUV, tempted to give her a kiss on the cheek for the cameras, but the more he began to actually feel for her, the less he wanted to do such intimate things in front of the mob of paparazzi stalking them.

“I’ll see you before the show?” He asked, Violet nodding her head and reaching to pinch his chin. Dieter grabbed her hand and kissed the pad of her thumb, winking at her before closing her door, his security and assistant following him over to his own SUV parked right behind hers waiting to take him over to Rockefeller Center.

•••

The entire car ride from the MoMA to their hotel on the Upper East Side, Violet couldn’t stop thinking about Dieter. The way his dark eyes seemed to turn golden when he looked at her and black when he looked at anybody else. The way his beard felt against her fingertips when she’d pinch his chin. His earthy cologne that may have just been his natural scent—she couldn’t yet tell. He’d somehow managed to intoxicate her with his mere existence, and it was beginning to become an addiction she didn’t know she’d be able to shake once this was all over.

She could see it in his eyes—his hesitancy to feel something for her. She knew there was more between them than friendship or obligation, but just how much? Neither of them allowed themselves to speak it out loud.

Violet didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to wonder whether or not he was thinking of her, but before she could spark up a joint and hop in the bath, her phone was buzzing. She sighed and set the joint down, grabbing her phone and sliding the green arrow to accept the FaceTime call from her assistant now back in LA.

“Hey, Luce,” Violet spoke through an exhale, only half paying attention to the blonde on her screen.

“Hey, just wanted to call and let you know I booked your trip to London at the end of the month for the press junket. I haven’t heard back from Dieter’s team as to whether or not he’ll be joining you.”

“Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t, you know? Give us some time to miss each other and all that.” Violet bit at her once-perfectly manicured nails while her assistant narrowed her eyes at her through the screen.

“What’s happened? Besides the kiss that I walked in on?”

“Just…I don’t know. I feel like I’m doing that thing that I always do again where I meet an injured little bird of a man and take it upon myself to nurse him back to health only for him to fuckin’ fly off the minute he’s all better,” Violet hid her face in her hands, groaning dramatically. “I just need a week away from him, so let’s keep London a solo trip. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. You’re the boss,” she typed in the demand into her phone before continuing. “By the way, it’s not a flaw to see the good in people. Not that I entirely approve of Dieter—I don’t really know the guy—but from the way he looks at you in all these pictures, he’s either the greatest actor of all time or he’s just plain into you.”

“Shh,” Violet held her finger up to her lips. “I’m going to hang up now so I can smoke weed and relax before I have to be my crush’s fake girlfriend again.”

“Godspeed, my friend.”

As Violet smoked her joint in the bathtub, the hot water up to her neck, the “smells like happy” bathtub failing to deliver its advertised effects, she thought about her past romances.

She always did tend to take a broken man and invest all her love into him, or rather the idea of him that she’d invented in her head. In truth, every man she ever thought she loved was simply a reflection of things she loved about herself, or things that she wanted her partner to love about her.

Her previous lovers were all rather boring, selfish takers who allowed her to suffocate them with love and adoration until their ego had inflated to the point of no return, leaving her to watch them as they floated off to the next best thing—the next girl too good for them that could fix the parts she couldn’t.

Deep down she knew Dieter wasn’t the same as all the men before. For starters, he actually seemed to value her—her feelings, her opinions, her way of doing shit. She knew he could be selfish, harsh, distant, cold, but he could also be generous, soft, interested, and so goddamn warm when she caught him in the right mood.

Dieter was bad for her and he was good, too—black and white and grey—which made her all the more confused about what to do.

Gathering herself a bit, she quickly got ready, doing her own hair and makeup tonight because she couldn’t bear the thought of interacting with anybody else right now.

She opted for a simple glam, her hair in cascading waves down her shoulders and back. She wore one of Dieter’s vintage t-shirts—a suggestion from Dieter himself—a distressed pair of jeans, and an oversized black leather jacket on top. Her outfit was casual but she didn’t want anything over the top—tonight was all about Dieter.

Violet beamed at the paparazzi waiting in front of 30 Rock, giving them her best smile and a friendly wave. Funny how they’d never know she was paralyzed with insecurity and sadness all the while.

“Hey,” Violet found Dieter in his dressing room, surprisingly all alone. “Thought I’d have to throw some elbows to get to you.”

“No, I, uh,” he gestured back at the hall. “I told everyone I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh—should I?” She stepped towards the door but Dieter shook his head and stood up, reaching out for her hand.

“No, stay.” Violet smiled, nodding and following him over to the sofa.

“You feeling okay?” She asked, afraid to bask in uncomfortable silence for too long. Dieter shifted in his seat, glancing at her with that boyish grin she’d become so accustomed to but at one point couldn’t have even imagined him wearing.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just…nervous, I guess.” He reached over, lightly punching her knee. “But you being here makes it better. And sorta worse. I can’t explain it.”

“I know what you mean,” she chuckled, tilting her head at him with a soft smile, her eyes unabashed in their look of admiration. “You have nothing to be nervous about, Dieter. You’re going to be great.”

“You know, out of all the people in this bullshit industry for me to be under contract to spend time with, I’m glad it’s you,” Dieter confessed barely above a whisper, reaching up to cradle her cheek. “I just wish I was good enough for more. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so scared to act on shit.”

“What? Dieter—“

“Alright, Mr. Bravo. We’re ready for you at stage entrance.” The producer opened the door and gave them both a hurried look. Dieter gave Violet a longing look before standing up and walking out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

What the literal fuck? Good enough for more? Act on shit? Act on what? Violet’s head spun at the thought of Dieter Bravo harboring feelings for her, and the thought of him holding back on them because he was insecure made her so dizzy she thought she could throw up. If only she could gather her wits enough to tell him that she was just as scared about the way she felt for him. That she was just as insecure about what she brought to the table.

•••

Dieter waited behind the iconic doors on the SNL set, ready to give his opening monologue. He’d written it with the help of a couple writers at the show, insisting that he wasn’t going to try to reinvent himself tonight, but simply show the viewers a newer side of him—a bit less brooding and pained than the image he’d created over his career.

Faster than he could catch his breath, the doors were being opened and he was stepping through them, walking down the stairs to the iconic jazz and applause from the crowd. He scanned the rafters, hoping to see one familiar face but shocked when he saw two more—his mother and father.

Great.

Plastering his smile even wider in hopes of hiding his actual oh my fucking god my parents are here panic.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Dieter bowed to the audience as the applause died down, his heart clambering inside his chest. “It’s an honor to be here tonight, I’m Dieter Bravo. You may know me as that one guy from that one thing that you fell asleep in the middle of but somehow won an Oscar for.” The crowd laughed. “You know, I’ve been sort of awestruck being here hosting. So many of my childhood heroes have walked these halls and stood where I’m standing now—turns out they’re all more like villains and are thankfully canceled now…which is great business for me. SNL would’ve never been desperate enough to have me on if pickings weren’t so slim around Hollywood these days.” The crowd response was a mixture laughter and ooo’s, Dieters mouth curling up into a half-smirk. He insisted that joke be kept in and had to kiss ass to get it approved but oh, the payoff. “Listen, I know I’m not known for my comedy. I’m a pretty serious guy, I like to take serious roles, but, ya know, since I’m turning forty in a couple months, I’m hoping to turn a new leaf.” The audience applauded him, Dieter nodding and trying to calm his smile before continuing. “Yeah, I used to only smoke sativa, but lately I’ve really been into indica.” Another round of scripted laughter erupted from the crowd. “No, but seriously. I’m slowly getting myself together. I’ve given up the fast life—mostly, got a new role coming up that doesn’t involve any Cliff Beasts or terrible accents, hell, I’ve even given up the all the young, beautiful supermodels in exchange for a beautiful, brilliant actress that’s here tonight up in the rafters hoping that I don’t completely embarrass her. Hi, darling.” Dieter blew her a kiss and waved his hand at her—that wasn’t scripted. “Anyways, we’ve got a great show for you all tonight. Stick around and we’ll be right back.”

The show went well, or at least he thought it did—everything was happening so fast it was hard to tell. After the end credits rolled and he’d given a fake hug to every fucking cast member, he walked off the stage, desperate to try and find Violet before his parents could inflict too much emotional abuse onto her.

Dieter found her in the green room, surrounded by a fucking mob of cast members, writers, producers, fucking interns—all of them making it near impossible for him to reach her. She was laughing and carrying on with all of them, playing her favorite role of the always-smiling American sweetheart, but he could hear the difference in her voice.

Violet was always so poised when she laughed in front of an audience, but when she was alone with Dieter, when he truly made her laugh, she was all snorts and cackles and just plain fucking real. It almost felt sacrilegious to hear his favorite sound distorted by inauthenticity like this.

“There you are,” his mother’s voice sounded from behind him and he closed his eyes, wishing her away. When he felt his father’s firm grip on his shoulder, he sighed and turned around, forcing a smile on his face.

“Ed, Marianne.” Dieter gave them a polite nod, both of them eyeing him up in that judgmental way that made him feel like a little boy again, desperate to make them proud.

“You did well out there tonight, son.” Dieter furrowed his brows at his father’s praise, remaining frozen when he was pulled in for a hug.

“Are you sick or something? Why are you hugging me?” Dieter’s mother swatted his bicep at the question, his father letting go of him.

“Nobody’s sick. We’re just proud of you. God, is it always going to be so volatile with you, Dieter? Sorry that we weren’t there as much as you may have wanted us to be, but we’re here now. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” His mother pleaded, though her dismissal of his childhood neglect and trauma did little to win him to her side.

“Weren’t there as much as I may have wanted? You sent me off to live with a nanny across the country. That wasn’t not being there, that was abandonment,” Dieter scoffed, shaking his head as he tuned out their typical deflections to save himself the hurt.

When he felt a hand slide against his bicep, looping their arm with his, he almost jumped, but one look to his right side and he was met with Violet’s smile—one that seemed to wash away all thought.

“Found you,” she mumbled with a grin, Dieter’s lips curling up out of instinct. Violet’s eyes soon turned to his parents, her smile turning into a flat line as she glared at them. “If you two don’t mind, we have a party to get to.”

Dieter had never been more attracted to her than when she was guiding him away from his parents and down the hall to his dressing room, shooting him a knowing smile over her shoulder as she led the way.

It was moments like this that he wished he could set aside his feelings for her and just fuck her, but no matter how hard he tried to tap into his old ways, his heart and mind were dead set on giving her more.

If he was going to sleep with her, it wasn’t going to be a one off hookup, wasn’t going to be something quick and fleeting, it was going to fucking change his entire life. And as much as he wanted to dive head first into everything her, he knew he just wasn’t ready. He’d fuck it up like he always did.

“You did way too good tonight to be brought down by your shitty parents,” she assured once they were in the peace and quiet of his dressing room, spinning around to cup his cheeks.

There was a point, even if momentary, that he thought this would never happen. He assumed they’d be cold to each other, or at best friendly, but this—her hands on his face, his eyes locked on hers, the look between them that anyone could clearly see was adoration—was never in even his wildest of dreams.

“Can I kiss you?” His request was whispered, almost shy, as though it was an outrageous thing to ask. Violet tilted her head, her smile soft and just barely there as she studied him carefully, letting his question hang in the air for a moment before she was nodding. Dieter almost whimpered—something yearning and desperate inside of him surfacing for a moment. He whispered to her as he leaned in, his hands cupping her face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Violet knew the deal—she knew that these moments came with no strings attached. When he got lonely she was there and vice versa. To read any further into things was to admit defeat in this battle she was fighting internally. A battle she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.

Dieter held her close, though his kiss remained soft enough for her to pull away at any moment. But she didn’t seem to want to. He smiled as he felt her hug him tight, his hands lowering to her waist and squeezing. He would’ve been content to stay that way forever, but of course…

“D, we gotta get you to the after party.” Andrea walked in, eying the two as they pulled away from each other breathlessly. Dieter pinched Violet’s chin, smirking down at her before turning to nod at his manager.

“Alright, just let me change.” Both Andrea and Violet left the room, though he wouldn’t have given two shits if they stayed, especially the latter.

After changing into a silk button down that was one size too big and a pair of black trousers, Dieter was making his exit from 30 Rock hand in hand with the most beautiful woman in New York City as far as he was concerned, a rare smile on his face as he waved at the paparazzi.

It seemed his fake happiness was starting to become real—and god, did that make him want to throw up.

Walking into the party, he held onto Violet’s waist, keeping her close and shielding her from everyone trying to steal her away from him.

Violet turned around, Dieter’s hand sliding to the small of her back as she leaned into him to speak over the music. “I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Uh,” Dieter spotted his dealer and a few of his party friends from over her shoulder, the craving for a couple little white lines distracting him. “Just a gin and tonic. I’m, uh, gonna go to the mens room for a second.”

“Okay,” she nodded and gave him a smile before leaving him to go to the bar. Dieter watched her until she disappeared and quickly made a bee-line for the bathroom, his dealer grinning and waving at him as he neared.

“Haven’t heard from you all month,” the all-business appearing skeeze welcomed Dieter to their little bathroom party with his hands on his shoulders.

“Been busy.” Dieter kept his eye on the constantly opening and closing door as his friend set up a few lines for him on the counter. Dieter wasted no time in leaning down and snorting the white powder up, one line at a time. As he moved to snort the last line, the door swung open.

“They didn’t have any tonic, so—“ Dieter interrupted Violet with a snort, his eyes wide as he turned to see the last person he ever wanted to show this side to. Violet looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and concern, the couple remaining frozen and silent for a few beats.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Alex. Can I fix you a line as well?” The dealer leant his hand out for Violet to shake but Dieter was quick to slap it away, giving him a warning glare as he watched Violet storm out of the doorway and back into the party. Wiping his nose, he rushed out to follow her, his heart racing from the drug and his own fear of fucking up his chances with her.

Dieter found Violet by the bar, tossing back shots with one of his “friends”, a fellow actor who was safe but a total slut—and that meant a lot coming from Dieter fuckin’ Bravo.

“You know, you’re even more beautiful in person. It’s usually the other way around,” the actor flirted, tucking Violet’s hair behind her ears.

“Does that line usually work for you?” She chuckled, now sipping on a cocktail through a little black straw.

“Usually. Is it working now?” He smirked at her as she shrugged, Dieter now quickly losing his composure as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes.

“Fuck off, Matt.” Dieter stormed over, stepping into the space between their bodies and glaring at his friend. “She’s with me.”

“She’s with nobody,” Violet corrected, glaring at Dieter for causing a scene, his blown out pupils a reminder of why she was so upset in the first place.

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t know the two of you were together for real,” his friend held up his hands in defense, giving Violet an apologetic look before he was leaving the couple alone.

“You just told Matt Smith to fuck off!” Violet scolded, too drunk to care about her volume.

“Relax, he’s a friend,” Dieter assured as he ordered a drink for himself. “A friend you seemed to be enjoying.”

“Are you jealous?” She accused with more irritation than he was hoping for.

“I’m not—not jealous, Violet. I just think if we go around flirting with other people, our little fucking showmance is gonna start to unravel.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Dieter. If I want to flirt with someone, I’m going to flirt.” Dieter turned to her with a raised eyebrow, both turned on and enraged by her independence.

Though it was surely the drugs in control, he thought it would be fun to give her a taste of her own medicine. Turning to his other side, he spotted a model sipping on a vodka soda.

“Hey, you wanna have sex with me?” He asked as though the answer was obvious, and judging by the girl’s smile, it was.

“Sure.” Violet scoffed at her eagerness, Dieter turning back to her with a smirk.

“You’re not my girlfriend, right? So I can fuck who I please tonight?” Violet had never looked more disgusted with him, and if he’d been sober, he definitely would’ve dropped to his knees and pled for forgiveness—but he wasn’t sober right now. He was just an asshole.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Dieter. I’m going home.” Violet set her drink down and made her way out of the party, Dieter’s eyes following her until she left the club.

“So…your place?” The model approached him, her hand sliding up his chest.

“If you sign an NDA.”

•••

Violet woke up around three in the morning to the sound of moans coming from their hotel suite’s kitchen. Furrowing her brows, she walked over to her bedroom door and cracked it open, gasping when she saw Dieter leaning back against the fridge, the model from earlier on her knees for him.

Though she felt fucking sick with jealousy—truly, she could’ve vomited right there on the fucking floor if she wasn’t so determined on keeping up her appearance—she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his appendage. After so many nights of dreaming about it, the real thing made her gasp. He was hung like a goddamn horse.

Dieter’s head was tipped back, his body bare besides the robe he kept with him like a security blanket. He held onto her head and guided her to take him in deep, vulgar slurping sounds filling the space as though he completely forgot about his roommate. Violet almost stormed out, enraged by the fact that he’d let anyone besides her get to feel him so closely—closer than she had yet to get—but soon, a name slipping off his lips in a breathless moan made her totally forget her rage.

“Oh, fuck, Violet. So fucking good.” Violet covered her mouth as she gasped, watching as the model pulled away from him and very hoarsely corrected his slip-up in names. “Yeah, sure, whatever, just don’t stop.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” The model stood up and fixed her outfit, seemingly having been on her way out of the hotel room before he seduced her one more time in the kitchen, storming out of the room with a slam of the door.

Dieter sighed at his still-raging erection, pumping it with his open fist until he was painting the kitchen tile white with a feral growl slipping from his lips.

Violet looked on at the scene, his flushed chest heaving from his orgasm ripping through his body, his long and thick cock dripping white as he stroked it lazily, his soft moans filling the room like the most beautiful song she’d ever heard.

“Next time you bring someone home—don’t.” Violet announced her presence, watching as Dieter jumped and let out a girlish shriek. Giving him a stern look, she watched him as he stayed frozen in place, his eyes lowering to his now half-softened length.

“You wanna—“

“Fuck you, Dieter.” She slammed her bedroom door and locked it. Though she still very much did “wanna”, it wasn’t going to be that fucking easy for him.

No matter how beautiful and impressively fucking hung he was.

•••

dieter taglist: @browneyes-issac @wildemaven @laureliciousdefinition @trinkets01 @paulalikestuff @toomanystoriessolittletime @alwayslurkinginthebackground @pastelnap @fishingforpike @littlemisspascal @wheresarizona @pedropascalsx (please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 𝒎.𝒂.

summary: “I stopped being good enough for the great Miya Atsumu. Is that it?”

WARNINGS: manga spoilers!! angst, emotional turmoil, relationship struggles, swearing, reasonably enraged reader bc i thrive off of them, thoughts of inadequacy pairing: post time-skip!miya atsumu x actress!reader word count: 4.4k

a/n: lol vent writing!! anyway yeah its messy bc emotions are messy and also, i think relationships are complicated and deserve to be shown as such. also yes, inspired by happier than ever by billie eilish.

unedited and crossposted on ao3 im very tired and would like to just get this out!!!

Meandering near the beginnings of the red carpet, you try not to look like you’re waiting for someone as the rest of the cast go first. Your co-star squeezes you arm for good luck while you hold onto your clutch, scanning the parade of cars slowing down and blocking the entire street for one head of blond hair through the midst.

Twenty-five minutes later, and no show, and you’re digging out your phone. Any other time, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this shitty, but with how overworked you’ve been for the past few months, you’d been looking forward to a fun night with good food, and a whole three weeks of no work, and you wanted to spend it with him.

And he just won’t show.

“Hey!” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Wakatoshi pushes through the crowd towards you, smiling faintly. He looks wonderful in a suit, and you embrace him quickly before pulling back, holding him by the shoulders and inspecting him. 

“Why’re you here?” you ask curiously. “I didn’t—“

He ducks his head, pretending to fix something on your dress as cameras flash and you swallow.

“He’s not coming. You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Wakatoshi whispers and you turn to face him, slanting your body strategically away from the cameras. 

Desperately not-so-heartbroken: “How do you know?”

“I saw the state he was in,” is the only answer you need. “Shimizu-san would’ve come, but—“

“It’s okay. I know the baby’s on the way,” you reply deftly, swallowing your injured pride. “I’ll try to get through this as quick as possible and get to the table.” Wakatoshi nods, complimenting you on your dress before offering his arm. Taking it, you plaster that smile for the cameras onto your face with superglue. Nothing’s sloughing it off tonight.

Of course he’s not coming, you think to yourself as the volleyball player escorts you down the red carpet. You guys look great together—everyone says so—but everyone knows, too, that there’s someone who should’ve been there, who would’ve smiled more, made more jokes. Ushijima is the perfect carpet partner in the sense that he makes sure you’re always comfortable, but you don’t love him.

But of course he wouldn’t come, you think.

It’s the day after a game. He likes to take those days all to himself.

Bitterness builds up in your throat.

Wakatoshi takes away the name card that displays someone else’s name before anyone catches it as they sit down at the awards show, and you silently note to repay him somehow. He hates these kinds of events, and yet he bares every single one of them just because you need someone and you wonder why he always drops everything for you. 

It’s honestly terrible. It feels misleading. It feels like you’re using him, and he lets you do so happily—or at least with gritted teeth because it’s you.

“Wakatoshi,” you begin, but he only sends you a warning look and a subtle shake of his head.

Don’t worry about it, the gesture seems to say.

Taking out your phone, you glance at your messages to see if Atsumu’s even bothered to read them.

Delivered stares back at you in cold grey letters.

.

Ever since you’ve gotten home, it’s been a match between you and Atsumu. Not quite screaming, but hot-tempered and full of serrated words that eviscerate anything they come into contact with. You feel like you’re less a person and more tattered ribbons of flesh and blood, with a throbbing head and aching feet, and you just want to eat, shower, slip into something more comfortable, but Atsumu won’t let up. He smells like beer, but his eyes are sharp, rich with annoyance, and his face is flushed with the incredulity of his expression.

Like you’re the one being unreasonable. Like your anger at him isn’t justifiable.

But you’re not, and it is, and you are fucking done. 

So you whirl around, making him stop in his tracks. He’s still in his outdoor clothes—you learnt that he’d come home only minutes before you—and his hair is windswept and he’s so handsome it used to make your teeth ache, but now, it only fuels the pyre of your rage, and so you demand the answer to one question. The one question you feel needs to be answered.

“Do you even realize how you treat me?”

It’s a strong way to finish an argument. Sobering, at least.

For once, you feel as if you’ve said something that will actually sink into his thick brain and a terrible flash of triumph surges through you when Atsumu stares at you like you’ve punched a hole in his heart.

God, if only you could do it a hundred times over. You think you have enough sadness to fill a thousand graveyards.

By Atsumu’s silence, you know his answer.

“I called you eight times tonight, Atsumu. Eight. You promised me you would show up, and I wanted to know if you were even coming, but you didn’t even bother to let me know. If you were even safe, if something had happened.” You manage to keep your voice level as you turn to head into their bathroom so you can shower and slough off this day. You’re not hungry anymore. “I won fucking Best Actress, I dedicated it to you because you are my everything, and you were out drinking with your friends and driving like you’re the one out of a movie. Like your actions don’t have consequences on me, too. What if you had died? What if when you called me for the first time tonight, it was because you had wrapped your car around a pole?”

“You’re overreacting—“

“No, I’m not.” Calmly, you take off your earrings and set them on the vanity, staring at your reflection and taking deep breaths so you don’t give in to the trembling feeling in your chest and begin to cry. Your makeup is too good to be smeared by anything other than makeup remover. “I’m not, because this is not the first time you’ve done this to me, and it clearly won’t be the last considering instead of enjoying myself tonight with my friends, I was instead worried to death over you. Again.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I have a headache and I’m going to bed.”

“C’mon. You know I’m sorry.”

“I don’t actually,” you inform coolly. “I never know what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling because you’re never actually here for us to communicate that.” Pulling off your fake eyelashes, you set them aside gently before sliding out of your dress, and Atsumu moves to help you with the zipper like he used to. Twisting to allow him access, you allow your molten gaze to rest on the tile of their bathroom. Once he’s pulled it down, he steps back.

He used to try to sneak kisses before you took your lipstick off.

You sigh and begin the arduous task of removing your makeup after moving the dress to your bed to deal with later.

“Baby,” he says. Your eyeshadow blurs, the sparkles smearing all over your face and you sigh as the eyeliner streaks too, leaving haunting black trails everywhere. When you look at him, you’re sure you’re quite a monstrous sight.

Bluntly (you think you don’t have the energy to care anymore): “What?”

“I don’t want us to fight.”

You scoff. “You think I want to fight on what’s supposed to be the night of my greatest achievement? Not that you would know. You don’t care about anything except volleyball and it makes me wonder, honestly, why are we even in a relationship?”

Atsumu stares at you dimly and you meet his gaze, the fight in you leaving all of a sudden. You just want to go to bed, you realize. Take back what you have left of the night. 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. You click your tongue when the remover gets into your eyes, squinting a bit and rinsing it out with water. “You know that the reason we are here is because we are in this together. It’s always been you and me, and that is all we ever needed.” The cold numbs your cheek and you wipe at your face gently, patting it dry before screwing up your face in the mirror and tentatively opening the affected eye. When your vision doesn’t blur, you glance over at your boyfriend. “Say something. Please.”

“It was you and me,” you acknowledge, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut. “I don’t know when that changed, but it did, and I don’t care that you have friends. I don’t care that you go out with them because I love the Jackals, you know that, but it’s not fair that you treat me like this, Atsumu, like some second-class hook-up rather than your fucking girlfriend, and I’m not going to just lie down and take it.”

He nods and doesn’t say another word. You slip into the shower soon after, the bathroom door closing and blocking him off from you.

When you leave, the lights are dim and it’s quiet. Atsumu is sleeping on his side of the bed, in his pajamas and hair still a bit damp—he must’ve used the guest bathroom—and your dress is nowhere in sight. With a quick glance at the closet, you see it’s been hung up and you scurry to protect your fake eyelashes, sliding them back into their case. As you do so, you note your jewelry back on their rack sans the earrings which you hook on moments later, and there’s something warm as you slide into the bed.

Shifting, you look and find a heated pad switched on for you. With a gentle sigh, your heart wilts in your chest as you turn it off and tuck it in the shelf of your nightstand. Then, you reach up to switch off the lights and fall asleep with your back to him.

.

The morning after, you wake up before Atsumu and head into the kitchen just to grab yourself a cup of coffee while you scroll through your phone to find a suitable gift for Wakatoshi. Leaning on the kitchen counter, you nurse your headache as you check Twitter and Instagram, knowing the posts made on both accounts would’ve garnered a fair share of likes, comments, and the standard hate. There’s news article after news article about you and Wakatoshi about sparks flying, which you firmly ignore, before liking a few congratulatory tweets from fans and friends alike.

Your publicist has sent you the red carpet photos which you upload immediately onto Instagram, tagging Wakatoshi and the appropriate brands you were wearing along a witty caption. Your friend immediately likes it and you snort to yourself, sending him a quick text teasing him for being on his phone when he must have practice, but he only sends back a short response (‘they got my good side’) which means you caught him at the tail-end of his first waterbreak of the day.

Smiling to yourself, you continue to nurse your coffee as Atsumu makes his appearance for the day. His hair is messy and falling all over his face, and he’s still wearing his pajamas, feet shuffling in his slippers. You barely remember the last time you saw him wear them and you stuff down your heartache. The remnants of what you said still linger, and while you don’t regret it, it makes the air frazzled with buzzing tension. You just want to relax today, and you wonder if it’s even possible to postpone their fighting for one more day.

You can deal with it tomorrow. Today… today, you just want to see Kiyoko and talk to Yukie, and maybe pop in to Tendou’s for some treats. You want this to yourself. You want…

“Mornin’,” he says, disturbing your line of thought. His eyes brighten for a flash of a second upon seeing you still in their apartment before he dims again, shoulders slouching. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten either.

Good.

“Morning,” you reply as Atsumu pours himself a glass of water and chugs it down. You tilt the rest of your coffee down your throat and straighten up. “Going to practice? You guys probably have a debrief from the game yesterday today. You can’t miss that.”

“I was thinkin’ of taking the day off, actually,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck before flipping through his hair as if dusting something off his silky head. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk when you come back.” You set your mug down in the sink. Your insides are nothing but numb and any good mood you had dissipates like smoke. You don’t know when the prospect of talking to Atsumu felt more like a dreaded chore than the best way you could’ve spent your time, but it’s happened and the guilt is stronger than the hurt you know is on his face. “I’m not working today, so… you just go. Have a good practice.”

“What about a lunch date?” he proposes. You shake your head.

“No, thanks. I don’t feel like leaving the apartment.” A lie that’s starting to feel more true if Atsumu’s going to practice. Making your way to the living room, you bypass him but his hand shoots out to take a gentle hold of your elbow.

“Baby…”

You pull away. “What?”

“We really need to talk,” he says. You look at him fully, eyes searching his expression. He’s begging you with all his might, eyes wide, mein twisted into an expression he knows tugs at your entire being to bend to his will, but you shake your head.

“I think… I think what we need is time to re-evaluate what we want,” you reply carefully. Cleaning up the living room slowly, you pick up a few books and return them to their places on their shelves, examining the plants as you pass by. Atsumu stands by the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and you step over his box of fanmail he has yet to get to. “And whether or not this relationship can continue down the path its heading.”

“What I want?” he echoes, incredulous. “I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Well, it really doesn’t feel like it.” Returning to the kitchen, you fill up a watering can. “It feels more like a PR relationship, and barely at that, so it’s making me wonder why you even want to be here.”

“Because I love you,” he says it like it’s obvious. You shake your head. “You have to believe me: I have loved no one but you for the past five years.”

“Right.” You set the watering can down on the counter with a harsh clang. “So why did Wakatoshi have to come last night?”

“Baby—“

“That’s my first question. It really is. If you love me so much, why do you never show up?” A fire ignites under your heart as you speak, and a tightness balls up in your throat. You plant your feet into the floor, squaring your shoulders and taking a deep breath. “Why do I have to make myself look like a fool waiting around for you?” Atsumu’s face goes lax as you glare at him wretchedly. “You used to show up to every little thing, even when I said you didn’t have to, and now… now I don’t even deserve a text. Is that it?” The colour drains from his face but you can’t bring yourself to care. “I stopped being good enough for the great Miya Atsumu. Is that it?”

He gapes. “No! No, you are more than I deserve, I just… I love you. I love you so much and I try to give you everything! I swear I do. It’s why I take so many ad offers, too. I care about these brands, but the money’s good, too! An’ I swear… I swear you are enough—“

“But, I don’t need you to cover for me anymore!” Voice spiking, you cringe at how loud you are but sleeping on it has only made everything increase exponentially in how fucking angry you are. “Look, I really am grateful that I have you. You believed in me before anyone else did, and I love you for that. I loved that you knew what I had in me before I did, but I got such a big break. I’ve been working my ass off for the past year and it paid off last night. Not that you would know. How’d you find out that I won? Twitter? Did one of our friends text you?”

Slack-jawed, Atsumu says nothing besides a hoarse answer of ’TV.’

A beat. Two.

You had prepared for it.

You had really prepared for it. But hearing it is a whole other story. 

He had watched you win and even still, he didn’t rush to your side, the invite you’d given him stored in his pocket?

Are you just not the effort?

You wonder why Wakatoshi even bothered to come, then.

“Live?” you press on quietly, just to be sure.

“The whole thing,” he confirms in a whisper. “You looked gorgeous, baby.”

Quiet sounds like the wrong word for the moments that follow. It’s more akin to a dead, mournful silence, and it’s enough to choke the life out of you as you stare at Atsumu incredulously, your mind buzzing with so much, yet, at the same time, a blur of nothingness. You don’t know what you want to say—too much at once, that’s for sure.

“So you remembered,” you say at length, evenly and apathetically, “that I had something last night, something important to me, and you still decided to be elsewhere because I just wasn’t a priority for you.”

Atsumu takes a step forward. “That is not what I meant.”

You remain rooted by the sink. “That is exactly what you meant.”

.

Atsumu doesn’t go to practice. You water the plants and busy yourself until there’s nothing left to do.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asks quietly as they sit on the couch in tense silence. It’s been like this for the past thirty minutes as you sit on the couch alone, on the seat farthest away from where Atsumu is perched on a stiff beanbag, leaning forward on his knees. Your own feet are propped up on the coffee table and you rest your arm on the armrest, resting your cheek against your fist and staring blankly at the black screen of the TV.

You don’t know what you’ve been thinking. Probably a vicious cycle of the same thoughts that continue to stab at your heart—the idea that Atsumu’s finally bored of you and the only reason he keeps you around is to hype himself up. It’s a wretched thought, but you can’t shove it out of your head.

“Babe?” he prompts, and you blink, turning to look at him. “You want any breakfast?”

You get up at his question, and his expression lifts hopefully.

“I can do it,” you tell him. It’d give you something to do and to firmly pack those thoughts away. “I’ll make something. What do you wanna eat—“

“No. I’m doing it,” he insists, springing to his feet and walking after you, surpassing you quickly and getting to the fridge first. Your shoulders fall at his eagerness, and you feel a bit of stiffness leave your body as he pulls out eggs, scallions, and tomatoes before humming to himself. “I can make us some omelettes. Whaddya think?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You watch him for a moment. Atsumu’s a great chef—as a professional athlete and with a chef as a brother, there’s no doubt he would be—so you leave him to his devices, heading back to the couch. You pick up your phone, scanning for any important texts. Congratulatory texts from most of their friends who you’re not as close with and probably only found out this morning, plus a few from your manager asking how you’re doing.

You reply with a quick fine and an update on what you’re doing for the day (a day at home, soooo tired) which is only half-truth but it seems to to be the theme today, and then the thoughts slowly inch back, crawling with terrible claws that dig into the folds of your brain.

“Babe, you want peppers in yours?” Atsumu calls over the chopping of his knife.

“No, thank you.”

And so it continues. You continue scrolling through your phone, through Twitter and Instagram until you’ve had your fill. The mouth-watering promise of breakfast floats through the air and you glance into the kitchen, hopeful. 

When Atsumu finally calls you over, you can’t help the urge to put a spring in your step—you don’t humour it, but it’s there. It’s been so long since you’ve had Atsumu’s cooking, but even the notion itself weighs down in your heart as he pulls out your chair and sets cutlery down before heading around the table and sitting down.

Atsumu has his phone on the surface, and his screen keeps lighting up with notifications, yet he resolutely ignores it. Your eyes keep flashing to it against your own will, and you duck your head, stabbing at the omelette unhelpfully as they begin to eat after their murmured prayers. 

You wait to see if he’ll take it, but when his phone buzzes and he still keeps staring at you, you shake your head.

“Just check your phone,” you tell him flatly. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Atsumu, seriously, don’t play cute. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re quickly losing your appetite, but manage to keep your tone civil. “Just check your phone.”

So he does, because with any one else, it would’ve been a trap, but that’s never how it’s been between you two. He is only on there for a few minutes anyway before he’s setting his phone down, eyes downcast and face considerably paler than before.

You want to ask what he’d seen to make him look so ghostly, but you’ve had a gander on what the press are saying already.

After all, it’s one pro volleyball player taking the place of another pro volleyball player, and Ushijima, notorious for his tight-lipped courtesy and short answers regarding his privacy to the press, does not help matters. You’re sure if you had to step foot outside your apartment, papparazzi would be swarming you the instant they spotted you on the streets.

You eat quietly while Atsumu soaks in the headlines blasting you and Ushijima Wakatoshi, more famously known as the Schweiden Adler Southpaw, as the newest, hottest couple-to-be, and the silence is insufferable.

“They’re speculatin’ that you left me for Ushijima-san,” Atsumu informs at length. Your omelette’s three-quarters gone and you’ve been stabbing at a stray piece of scallion for the past two minutes. “The pictures of you two look real cozy, so I don’t blame ‘em.”

Your head jerks up. “Are you blaming anyone else?” you inquire icily. 

Atsumu shakes his head. “No. If you want to be with someone else, that’s no one’s fault, but if you’ve thought about breaking up with me, I think that’s something we should discuss.” A beat. “So… have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Thought about breaking up with me.”

Your chest cramps. It feels like it’s been doused in ice-cold waters. “Yes,” you admit, “but not really the breaking up. More the idea of being alone and not being disappointed all the time.”

He deflates. It makes you sick to your stomach how good it feels that he’s finally feeling the damage he’s inflicted on you. “I see.”

He better, you think resentfully. Out loud, you continue: “And it wasn’t just last night, you know, or all the nights before where you just decided to be a flake. It’s every time you don’t listen to me when I’m worried about you, or even text me back and then just show up and pretend it’s okay. You won’t always have me, Tsumu.” Atsumu looks up at you, eyes half-mast and inconsolable, but you only stare back devoid of emotion. “You know that right?”

He looks as if he’s never considered the possibility. 

Now, it’s staring at him in the face.

You stab at the end of your omelette, watching the egg fall apart. Scooping it into your mouth, you watch him and rest your cheek against your fist, chewing slowly. 

The distracted sound of his fork against porcelain continues to scratch the edge of the quiet that has fallen over them until Atsumu asks if you’re finished eating because he’ll do the dishes, and then maybe they can talk, and—

“Yeah, I’m done,” you cut him off mid-sentence. 

It feels like it means more than breakfast. 

Your boyfriend takes the plate from in front of you as you wipe your mouth carefully, and he pauses beside you. You eye him. It’s hard to feel the anger that wracks your entire soul when he’s standing beside you. Instead, you just feel tired, and empty, and you miss him more than you can breathe.

“I’m in love with you.” He’s begging with everything he can. It won’t be long before he falls to his hands and knees, but you think they both know it’s too late for that.

“I know,” you answer, standing. Muted brown eyes find yours, soft with surrender and you step back, chair thumping against the floor. “I’m going to head out. I just… need to clear my head. I think we both do.”

This time, he does not fight you. You change quickly, and gather your bags, and when you leave, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His hand grasps onto your bicep as if, when he lets go, you will disappear from his life forever. Your chest is hollow, and your heart wilts like a flower, drowning in a rainstorm.

Who knows what the future holds?

“Goodbye, Tsumu,” you say, and wonder how he will answer.

He only gives you a limp smile. It hangs off his face awkwardly, and his eyes are shining. 

“Bye, love.”

You can’t help but bitterly agree. 

Goodbye, love, indeed.

[4dtk]

jaehyun as a bf

anon: “your writing brings me butterflies i love it you are so underrated!!!!! would love to request a jaehyun bf headcanons (like the one you did of mark <3)” thank you for the kind words anon <333 hope you enjoy this one!

(a bit of a plug lol but check out NCT 127's ideal r/s headcanons in this post!! i appreciate you checking it out! <3)

brief mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly nsfw!

likes to talk about music with you

especially jazz. there’s a plethora of songs out there with different renditions and sometimes he likes to ramble about who’s rendition he likes best

would play the piano for you if you asked, just maybe not after schedules or something. but usually when you’re free or alone together in the room, he likes you to sit beside him to listen to him play

you guys like to play a little game where he’ll play the chords and you play like a random note to create blobs of music

even if you don’t know how, the way the session always dissolves into giggles is his favourite thing in the world

if you know how to play the piano that’s great too!! jaehyun just likes the unexpected notes that come out since there’s no set melody in his mind

jaehyun needs to have some part of his body on yours at all times. like he has to hold your hand all the time, or a finger hooked around your backpack, or an arm around your waist.

at least when you’re together he does it very often and he’s just. obsessed with you lmfao

it’s also the reason he buys a promise ring when he’s sure of you as a significant other so you always have a part of him with you (his love)

would buy you those lockets for you to put pictures inside. he doesn’t care where you wear it though, around your neck, wrist, ankle, as long as the locket is on your person

he clings onto you like crazy in the mornings. jaehyun’s a heavy sleeper and likes to hug you on his side, so you’re always having trouble trying to pry him off of you in the morning

a bit nsfw: he likes morning lazy sex lol, ngl. jaehyun adores the rawness of your relationship in the morning and the sleepiness in your eyes when you’re gently pushing him away. he knows you don’t mean it but he makes sure you really want it first

loves the sunlight kissing your skin and the slow, gentle movements

so so intimate, he prefers it to the rougher forms of sex, but sometimes he doesn’t have that luxury since they leave for schedules quite often in the wee hours of dawn

for cuddling sense, jaehyun likes it when you’re under his arm and cuddled into his side. classic position but he dies every time inside when you look up at him and there’s this clueless look you have. has the biggest smile on his face after and you have to repeat the stuff you said bc he’s too distracted by how your eyes shine

second hot favourite (more of when you’re making out) is when you’re straddling him. nothing sexual, just like you on top of him when you’re kissing and stuff. he digs it when you’re pulling away for oxygen and he has to lift his body to reach for your lips again

gets flustered from kissing, but doesn’t show it. if he’s found a way to suppress the crazy crimson on his ears (which i doubt) then he will but his words will always contradict his expression

jaehyun can say “are you nervous, y/n?” with a smirk but his ears keep giving him away!!!!

mfer’s hands are shaking too when he trails it over your body. in disbelief you’re his.

sometimes shamelessly moans into the kiss LOL, not too loud but he whines when you pull away, and has to kiss you breathless again

when you kiss him, expect like a long-lasting kiss. doesn’t mind small pecks and stuff but he’ll want to savour your lips a little longer than a mere peck

jaehyun likes your neck too. when you’re hugging his face is always in your neck, placing small little butterfly kisses

you need to look out for him, always. mans always tripping over something at some point. it’s become more frequent now that he has you and my god he’s so unable to keep his eyes off of you that he trips over simple things. he once tripped over nothing

on the daily when he’s not tripping over you, he’s clumsy in a sense where he drops food on the table. he once struggled to tie up his growing hair into a mini ponytail bc it was just too little hair. the hair tie slipped from his fingers and shot itself into your face - those kinds of small small mishaps

it’s endearing but sometimes you can’t help but laugh at him

likes to take you out on impromptu dates. dates that are close by and easy to plan (?) i guess.

not saying jaehyun is a lazy boyfriend but he likes the more candid dates where you decide what to do as you go along. of course if it’s a big day like your anniversary or birthdays then he’d want to plan something out.

other than that, he just either lets you choose the places to go there or you two decide along the way. he doesn’t want to impose options for you and pressure you. if he’s being honest, he wouldn’t know where to go either lol so he just follows wherever you bring him

laughs so much when he’s with you. giggles, deep laugh, whatever you name it. your relationship is very light-hearted and he finds that he’s the one laughing more when you deliver jokes even tho he wants to make you laugh too

i can’t lie… his jokes can be dry sometimes i’m sorry jaehyun 😭 so he backs it up with laughter and has to catch his breath sometimes bc he finds it really funny

you’re not laughing at the joke, rather at his laugh so you might have to tell him that some way or another bc he’ll just keep making bad jokes i’m sorry y’all

he can’t handle the suuuuuper cheesy physically affectionate films or series (with shitty plot) but i feel like if the story’s interesting enough he’ll pay attention. likes bittersweet films too, i feel, gets him thinking

doesn’t mind cliched plots (fake dating / idealist girl meets realist boy / idk any others lol) but would propose something at the end that he thinks will make the movie/series more interesting

jaehyun likes to share his theories with you

unironically wants to learn the la la land tap dance scene with you. he ALWAYS hums city of stars too, no matter what. idk why but it sticks to him, in bed, in breakfast, when he’s doing something random

he did it once on the radio and he received a text from you in break that told him he was humming along to the song

with that said, jaehyun wants to try out the stuff in the rain quite a bit. making out, dancing, lying down, running, he likes that fascination that society has with doing things in the rain

doesn’t like it too much that he’ll get soaked, but as long as you’re with him and willing to do it, he’s all for it

jaehyun would def want kids in the future. wants to dote on them and buy them stuff and whatnot. wants to see them running around the house with laughter while you both struggle to contain the bursts of excitement they have

doesn’t care for the dynamic much. if he’s the one to stay at home to take care of them while you work, he can work with it. if it’s the other way round, he’s okay too

he just worries that if he’s still involved with the entertainment industry, you might have to take a back seat since he’ll be the one earning the money, and he doesn’t want babysitters either.

heart is so so full when he comes back home and you’re just playing with the kids, or singing them to sleep. any sight of you with him is enough to make him melt into a puddle

HAS to hold them even if they’re asleep. wants to always have them close to him while he nudges you to shower or get the food ready.

like jaehyun, he would wanna meet someone in a vinyl shop or bookstore. he knows it’s cliched but the thought of meeting someone when you’re buying something is exciting. anything unexpected for him, he welcomes it

the next few are just random, miscellaneous headcanons: he likes to see you in his clothes, preferably with nothing underneath. just his shirt lol. cheeky man

jaehyun likes it when you shower together (again, nothing sexual, just likes the domesticity)

likes it when you fall asleep on him

will never stop gushing about you to his parents, first time you met them they’re like “he’s told us so much about you!” and he really did

feels comfortable in your presence, no makeup, messy hair, no need for a perfect bod. he’s just jaehyun. jung yuno if you will

adores it when you call him “lover” i mean boyfriend is good, significant other is good, but lover is just chef’s kiss

it is a bit cheesy if you think about it, so it’s not often that you say it. when you do say it in songs when you’re singing it to him, he can’t stop smiling

plays lover, you should’ve come over when he’s on tour bc it’s the closest thing he can get to a replica of how he feels for you

and when jaehyun falls asleep to the song, all he can remember is your honey voice singing it to him. he’ll just have to hold onto it before he can see you again

<3

[silversatoru]

HOHO💖THANK YOU 💘 I was thinking one very Angst with Gojo, like.. He realizes he loves his best friend, but when he confesses they heavily reject him saying they could never trust him that way due to his womanizer self(?) and bc they love nanami,, like,, when they see him they're like 🎇💘MMHH YES, I feel awful but I love seeing gojo in pain for somewhat reason

Im so sorry😂🙏 if you don't want to write this, it's okay👌😌 thank you dear💖

too late

a/n: my past like 4 gojo asks have all been about him being a whore,,, y’all love to slander this man and see him in pain (me too)

synopsis: gojo loves you, you love nanami, things are messy 

t/w: angst, gojo is very sad

w/c: 1.4k

you’ve been gojo satoru’s best friend for as long as you can remember — two brainless jujutsu sorcerers who could never take anything seriously. the two of you together were simultaneously the biggest annoyance and also quite a force to be reckoned with. your abilities were no where near those of satoru, but you complimented him perfectly and no one stood a chance if the two of you were together — and you were always together.

in fact you were together right now, grabbing some food after effortlessly taking out some curses a few cities over. satoru enjoyed the sweeter things in life, downing a package of powdered-coated dough balls while you stuck to your savory bowl of spicy rice cakes. this was tradition for the two of you, sitting on a random bench somewhere in a random city munching on snacks and debriefing on the mission you’d just completed.

you loved it, and you loved satoru — like a brother, like a best friend, like a favorite teammate. you loved satoru but not in the way he loved you.

it was a recent realization, that he loved you in a romantic kind of way. he’d always just seen you as his best friend, but recently your eyes have sparkled a little more, your skin glowed a little brighter, and your voice sounded a little smoother when it flowed into his ears. it was right now, while he watched your sauce-covered lips suck down another rice cake, that he realized he wanted nothing more than to kiss you — right here and right in front of everyone. 

the only problem was, he had quite the history of being a womanizer. satoru went through women as if they were a one-time-use disposable product, and you were very aware of this. but none of those women were you, and he promised himself that he’d give you everything you deserved when he finally confessed. 

“can i have one?” you pointed to his near empty package of sweets and shook him out of his thoughts.

satoru wasn’t much for sharing, especially his desserts, but you were an exception. he plucked out a powdery ball (one that he knew was your favorite flavor) and popped it into your mouth. him hand-feeding you should have been weird, but you’ve been friends for so long that you didn’t think twice about it. you bit the sticky dough down between your teeth, a cheesy smile stretching across your face when you noticed he got your flavor right. 

“th-aanks,” you mumbled, mouth stuffed full of sugary confection. 

in the midst of your chewing, you felt a napkin swipe across your mouth to remove the excess powdered sugar. you eyed satoru suspiciously, starting to catch on to how overly-touchy he was being today. but he just shrugged, making snarky comments about how messy of an eater you were.

it wasn’t until the two of you finished your snacks and were walking through the city that you finally questioned him. he’d wrapped his arm through yours, pulling you close so you were walking right next to his side — his weirdly intimate actions today were starting to stack up. 

“what are you doing?” you peered up at him, giving your arm a small yank as you attempted (and failed) to put some space between the two of you. 

“that guy over there was checking you out,” he shamelessly pointed to a dark-haired man further up the street, his voice defensive. 

“okay, and? that bothers you-?” you yanked again, finally pulling your arm free of his embrace.

“no, but he looks like a weirdo, you deserve someone better than that,” he insisted, an evil grin on his face as he turned his pointer finger so it was facing himself. 

“like me!”

“oh, like nanami” 

your voices came out at the exact same time, but the content of your words could not have been more different. 

“nanami!?”

“you!?”

the two of you froze in the middle of the street, faces covered in equal amounts of shock and confusion. satoru had finally confessed his feelings to, and you’d just accidentally and unintentionally shut him down with one word — nanami.

“nanami?” he repeated again, an edge to his voice as he tried to protect his ego and mask his jealousy. 

“yeah, i- uh, i planned to tell you soon that we’ve been seeing each other recently. i had no idea that you-” you scrambled to explain the situation, trying not to let the hurt on your friend’s face get to you, “you’re with other women all the time satoru, how was i supposed to know?”

he winced at the unintentional insult, his history with women weighing heavy on his shoulders as he realized it was a prominent factor in your rejection. 

“ah - it’s fine! nanami beat me to it i guess. i’m happy for you guys,” he attempted a genuine smile, and anyone else may have been fooled by it too, but you knew him better than to fall for his shitty façade. 

you noticed the tiniest twitch of his eyebrow, and the smallest quiver of his lip as he continued to hide and protect his true feelings. it broke your heart in half, having to watch him put on a show like this. 

“i’m sorry,” you let the apology spill from your lips a few times, but he was very quick to remind you that none of this was your fault. 

“we’ll still be friends, right? i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you gave him a somber look, imagining a future without him by your side. 

satoru and nanami were good friends as well, and you’d never forgive yourself if this tore their friendship apart. 

“of course,” he gave you a cheeky smile and then continued walking down the street with a quick wave of his hand, instructing you to follow him. 

you jogged a couple steps to catch up to him, and he immediately started making jokes about a weird-looking man who was selling street food to your left. in a matter of seconds he was back to his typical self — so much so that it seemed as if your conversation had never happened. 

and that's exactly how satoru tried to imagine his life — as if that conversation had never occurred. he knew how important he was to you, but he also saw the way you looked an nanami with stars in your eyes. he knew that you needed them both, and so he stayed and watched you fall in love with someone who wasn’t him. 

whenever you asked, he told you that it had been a weird one-time thing and that he didn’t feel that way towards you anymore. he’d listen to your stories about the ex-business man and force smiles and laughter to make you happy. because that was all he ever wanted, for you to be happy, and if that meant you had to be with someone else, so be it. 

you and satoru were one in the same, so incredibly alike that maybe you would never have worked out anyway. you were raging with energy, energy that satoru only fueled stronger — where as nanami was gentle, peaceful, the opposite of you and your silver-haired counterpart. nanami cooled you down and and kept you centered, and that was what you needed, but it was something satoru would never have been able to give you. 

so when years had gone by and nanami asked him to be the best man at your wedding, he was crippled. he knew how important it was to you but he could hardly stand the thought of watching you vow yourself to the blonde-man. but despite his feelings, he didn’t even hesitate to say yes. you’d be so disappointed if he hadn’t.

and so he threw on his mask one last time, standing tall in a sleek, black suit as he watch you spill your feelings to nanami in a beautiful vow. you looked perfect, so stunning, and it tore him up that he wasn’t the one standing across from you. 

but he laughed and smiled all night, because that’s who he was. gojo satoru was always expected to be the life the party, and it was a heavy burden to carry. he was so tired of keeping up an act for you and for everyone else; all he wanted was to bury his head into your neck and rest. but he’d never have that, he’d never have you, and tonight made it official. 

[shadow--writer]

Kind of hurt/comfort? Main 6 + artist MC who's frustrated about not being able to get something quite right. The classic, it's attempt number 17 and yet that hand still doesn't look like it should, so they end up glowering and cursing at the paper/canvas, doubting their abilities. (yes, yes this is a self-callout)

ugh this is a callout post to ME. And I am UPSET ABOUT IT.

smfh

Main six x MC not quite right

~~~~

Julian

Ah this lad. This lad has no idea what tf you’re doing. I’m sorry but when it comes to the art process he’s left in the dark

But he gets upsetti when you get upset at your art because it’s BEAUTIFUL TO HIM DON’T BE ANGY :((

Drags you away with a kiss to the tip of your nose (“you need cuddles and to talk this out on the couch, scat. Doctor’s orders”)

If you whine he’ll kiss you softly to get you to hush a little. You have been working on that piece for HOURS now and you need a break >:C

Will cuddle you, play with your hair, and listen to you rant because LAWD KNOWS YOU NEED IT

Not great on the art side of things, but he feels the struggle of not getting something right. Gives pretty decent advice ngl

When you get back to work he’ll pop in from time to time with something to drink or snack on and a kiss

Will sit and tell stories as you work to keep you laughing and not caring about if it’s wrong. Even if it doesn’t turn out the best he’ll love it

Asra

Would laugh at you affectionately. Ruffles your hair with a kiss, tugging whatever you’re drawing with out of your hand (getting whatever’s on it on him)

Spins you around slowly, leading you into a dance. It quickly gets heated with your anger and him helping you get it out

Would sing to you as they waltz you out of the kitchen to get some snacks 

Faust would wiggle along with the two of you :D

Amazing listener with the BEST advice. Will listen to you stew about your latest piece over a nice cup of tea

Comes with you to see what’s wrong, hugging you from behind as you erase your latest attempt 

He (if you ask) helps you fix it. Usually by holding your hand and guiding it. Soft kisses to the back of your ear bc u gave them access to the area >:3

If needed he’ll angry nap with you, helping you get back to it later. Sometimes it’s good to step away, or get someone else’s help (IF YOU ASK)

Nadia

GOOD LAWD SHE FEELS THAT STRUGGLE SO MUCH

Would massage your shoulders as you rant about why the other hand is bugging you so freaking much

Always there for you when you need it for this STRUGGLE BUS OF A PROJECT

Gives great advice on the subject. Always mentions to take a break and come back to it later with fresh eyes (taking a bath, sleeping, or getting something to eat are great tips)

Will wrap her arms around your waist and watch you get back to work on it. If you like, she’ll rock the two of you back and forth with a low hum

Doubt your abilities and she gets a little annoyed. You are GREAT but sometimes stuff doesn’t turn out amazing and that is OKAY

If you finish it and it still doesn’t look right she’ll drag you away for angry snuggles. It’s okay it didn’t go well, you can try again later

For now she’s gonna reward you for giving it your best shot and seeing it through :)

Muriel

I HAVE SOME SOFT HEADCANONS FOR THIS MANS BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO STRAP IN 

He would gently take your hands in his, not caring if you have paint, ink or charcoal on them

Just take you away from whatever you’re doing for some time to calm down and think things over

He makes you a nice cup of tea :], something to eat, and will just sit and listen to you complain and talk about what you’re working on

He doesn’t try to offer up stuff like “oh I’m sure it’s fine” because that’s not what you want to hear. So he suggests you take a short break for a little while

He’ll let you paint on his back, just random doodles :)

He’ll wear the doodles with pride as well. Generally he wants you away from what you’re doing to give you a bit of a break. 

And don’t doubt your abilities. Even if this doesn’t turn out how you want, he’ll still think it’s beautiful 

Portia

DRAGS UR ASS AWAY FROM WHAT YOU’RE DOING 

You need a break. If you are cursing at the canvas her instincts kick in and she’s dragging you away

Will set up something in the garden for you to attack your frustrations on. Generally it’s a canvas and paint for you to splatter on it. It gets MESSY

She gets MESSY

And it’s CUTE

Will listen to you yell and scream about how you can’t get the other eye while you WRECK a canvas with colour and get it all over the two of you

It always ends with the two of you covered in paint and her chasing you around the garden until you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe 

And with your anger and frustration out, she’ll come join you as you get back to your piece. She’s your cheerleader!

Always there with a canvas to wreck and paint to splatter everywhere :D

Lucio

He would make something MUCH WORSE to make you feel better. A shitty drawing of him flexing? Y’all have like 80 of those now

Blocks what you’re working on with his body when he sees you frustrated (“Don’t you want to see something else artistic~?”)

Will take you to go steal treats from the kitchen as a distraction to calm you down

You’ll snack on cookies and he’ll listen to you rant :]. Ur very cute when ur frustrated. He doesn’t offer advice because he uh can’t but he’ll listen and admire you

Will doodle funny things on your arms so when you get back to drawing you have something to look at and giggle about

Loves doodling on u btw. Loves being doodled on as well

Really good at distracting you so you can get away from what you’re doing so when you come back you can see what you can do to fix it

If it still ends up poorly and you hate it....if you want a good scream he has some nice pillows to scream into 

And he’ll be there for you when you try again

[infinityactual]

So on the conversation of age real quick, I’m 23, so you most definitely have neen playing Halo longer than me. However I have been playing since I was 8, so thank you very much lmao!

As my reason for my hate towards Buck, its bc of three reasons:

1/ I sympathize WAAY more with Mickey’s plight and in the books (bad blood and new blood) his reasons for doing what he does and being who he is, feels the most rock solid?? And a helluva lot more compelling than Buck’s weird romance with Dare. But also I seemed like the author tired to make Mickey seem like the bad guy when really it’s just a messy situation, ya know?

2/ imo there wasn’t a lot to suggest to me that Mickey and Buck were ever close enough for him to be hurt by Mickey’s actions. Hell even Romeo was like “yeah that was shitty thing to to but I can see his POV” where as Buck treats him like shit 90% of the second book. And like I understand Buck has feelings, I just don’t understand why he’s so hellbent on being cruel to Mickey at ever opportunity.

3/ what he represents in not just the story but also (kind of) irl:

So I’m an annoying English major and with that I am contractually obligated to see the meaning in the meaningless.

Where as Master Cheif represents the literal shitty things the UNSC and ONI has done, I mean he and the other spartans were taken from the Outter Colonies at the height of the war and even he turns his back on the UNCS for someone he loves (even tho we don’t talk about Halo 5)

Buck seems to represent the staunch dogma and propaganda that exist in our real life. (Especially in America)

And really to boil it down honestly: I’ve known a lot of Edward Buck’s irl, and no I don’t want them to die but I want the kind of ideology that created our current geopolitical climate to die.

I didn’t know where to put this BUT my hate for Buck has less to do with him as a character and more to do with his beliefs in the book. The UNSC /UEG/ONI are very very corrupt and It is one part tragic and two parts frustrating to see Buck not realize this when the someone he claims to care about it telling him very clearly what is up. Sorry if this was messy lmao

OHOHOHOHOHO no this is not messy this is G R E A T. This is the sort of response I absolutely adore seeing in fandom, and I gotta say that you brought up stuff I'd never even thought about.

On the age thing: it's nice to see someone your age really get into an analysis like this. Especially one that's as well laid out and explained. This isn't really that messy.

More under the cut!

I remember bad blood but I don't think I've read new blood yet (I also have ADHD and the memory of a fruit fly) but from what I CAN remember, all of your points are pretty damn solid.

I'm a Navy brat. My dad was a sailor on an aircraft carrier when I was a kid, and all the men except my brother served going back generations. This isn't uncommon, but somehow I totally missed the Nationalism that tends to go along with it.

But I also somehow missed the concepts represented in Buck's character (and likely a lot of others in Halo, including my blorbo, Lasky).

The conflict between Mickey and Buck, when you step back and look at the possible concepts they represent, on the surface it looks like your classic good guy vs bad guy thing. But once I thought about it and scratched off that neat, tidy layer of paint, I realized that yeah, Mickey's whole thing is a lot more relatable, especially when you compare him to, say, a Palestinian or someone else in the real world in a similar situation. He represents a very human concept, whether his actions can be justified or not.

Buck on the other hand is very much a character chock full of tropes. This isn't a bad thing in and of itself, tropes are both unavoidable and the basic foundation of anything creative, written or otherwise (tho i think they're called something else in like, art). But once you mentioned, it seems obvious that he represents all that is good in the UNSC; which is contrary to the direction the story seemed to be going in Halo 4 and the movies and books immediately before (and I think after) it.

And I think you also got the reason why I do have some :/ feelings for Lasky as a character. 343 made a point of hilighting the fact that he sympathized with the insurrectionists in FUD, and even as a career military man in Halo 4, he's still willing to put his ass on the line to stick to his morals, to disobey orders he knows are wrong or tactically unsound, and when he's forced into a situation where he feels he has no way out, like when Osman orders him to pop a cap in Halsey's ass. He is obviously distressed over the idea, and reluctant to carry it out. Even Sarah points out that if he goes through with it, he'll likely be hung out to dry by the UNSC and ONI.

But that's as far as that sort of thing goes. After Halo 4, it seems like they leaned back into 'the UNSC are the unequivocal good guys' again. They went exactly nowhere with the concepts of things being morally grey or a military doing horrific things in broad daylight and spinning it as a neccesary and inherently good thing done for the wellbeing off humanity as a whole.

And I got that pretty much from the get go, which is why I'm a little surprised I didn't see the latter represented by Buck in bad blood. You are absolutely right about what he stands for (intentionally or not), and how that sort of thing is very, very present and all encompassing in the US. There are other places too, but we tend to take it to a whole 'nother level.

I rlly appreciate u sharing this with me. I also really like that you differentiate Buck's character from the concept his character stands for; that really can make a difference. As a character to me, personally, he's very....painfully average in pretty much every way. He's got some endearing qualities as a person, but when you stop and take into account things such as the concepts you've brought up here, it really does give a different perspective. While I might not share your intense dislike to the same degree, I can definitely get behind this and I think this take goes deeper than a lot of fans care to dig. It's...refreshing, I guess? To see someone really get into a character this way.

As an addition; I would give an arm, a leg and 75% of my liver for 343i to go back to hinting that the UNSC might actually be Awful and if not complacent, actively supporting and enabling all of ONIs crimes. Like, why make a HUGE point of basically taping a sign written in hilighter to Lasky's face stating that he doesn't support what the UNSC is doing, and then never follow up on that? Why paint Naomi's dad as a sympathetic character in the Kilo Five books? BRING 👏 THAT 👏 SHIT 👏 BACK👏

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.  

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.