#made of old flesh into new flesh. that part is told by its very name.

[faerunsbest]

Tav Character Worksheet: Ma'na

(i wasn't sure if you wanted dwylla or the new tav ma'na so im using this to flesh out mana)

with Ma'na i haven't even built her up in bg3 i just built her like Dwylla. with whatever i was capable of doodling and what i know from playing and researching.

as far as tags uhh if you guys wanna play @dutifullylazybread @falcatamandarina @cinnasalmon @commander-krios

thank you elven-e-girl

Name: ma'na its a joke because mages need mana and i made her for rolan! haha i thought it was funny anywho

Age: shes early to late 30's but doesn't actually know how old she is as she doesn't count it or celebrate birthdays.

Gender:female, happily woman although she does not limit herself to 'fem' activities and the like

Sexuality:Bisexual. she find herself attracted to certain features (dark eyes//split tongue//ect) although you can be none of the things she finds attractive and still land her if you make her laugh and feel safe

Pronouns:she/her

Tav voice:n/a

Family:Ma'na is one of 23 children. they are drowe that work mines, there are so many of them for the same reason farmers used to have a million kids. its cheaper to raise em then hire em. She used to be a rather mid worker but was prominent for the sole reason of she

Birthplace: Somwhere between mintar and thornwood there is mine. that mine is where she was born and where she lived her life

Job(s): she has done very little as since she was born she as told her purpose. to work. manual labor, mining, building, digging, demolition and all that comes with helping keep her family up and running

Phobia(s): drowning/suffocating ,nothing terrifies her as much as not being able to just perform the basic task of breathing

Guilty Pleasures:in all honestly she feels guilty about wanting to be wanted for more than she can offer.

she feels guilty about feeling pleasure in her body and her form, things like touching cuddling, kissing fucking and masturbating makes her feel likes shes doing something wrong

Hobbies:singing. sculpting sewing

she sings in the mines and her voice echoes down cold stone keeping people awake, sending chills when you've forgotten shes there.

with all the clay she pulls up from the soil, she pressed her fingers deep appreciating the feel of around her fingers, pressing, pulling stretching and smoothing clay until it resembles someone or something

she loves fixing old clothes, stitching in little pictures to make broken old worn out things feel new and loved still

alignment chaotic good. overall she wants good happy things but people aren't always good and she sometime retaliate with excessive violence or some form of mischief

sins.previous to the nautiloid she didn't have a lot of opportunity to commit any notable sin. even so probably the most notable things shes done is sleep with Dammon when she was supposed to be working. she also kicked the absolute living shit out aradin far past a singular punch

virtues: she does her best to believe people are good and give them a few chances to be good which is why she wont let astarion ascend

This or That?that?

Introverted or extraverted? depends on the day, but mostly extroverted

Organized or disorganized?mostly organized but any more than is useful

Closed or open-minded? forever curious shes quite open minded

Calm, anxious, or restless? calm, theres very little that sirs anxiety in her. shes always very much 'ill either die or i wont'

Disagreeable or agreeable?usually very agreeable as she just wants to enjoy herself

Cautious or reckless? moderately cautious

Patient or impatient? very patient, she willing to wait for good things

Outspoken or reserved?depends on the topic, shes very reserved with gale as she like to let him yammer but with astarion and laezel she feels its incredibly important they know how she feels

Leader or follower? she never lead anything until the nautiloid, as long as she knows what needs to be done she can lead but prefers to just do her part and be done

Empathetic or apathetic?incredibly empathetic

Optimist, pessimist, or realist?somewhere between optimist and realist, as in do the best with what you've got but a person can not expect miracles

Traditional or modern? whatever is easiest and most efficient she has no qualms in either direction

Hardworking or lazy? she will as hard as is needed but no harder than is required

OTP: ma'na and rolan my loves

BROTP:astarion/ ma'na they talk a lot, about things they wish would or wouldn't have happened. when he offers to please her at the grove she catches him outright, stating she wont touch him unless that what he wants, actively wants. he's so thrown off guard they wind up sitting out there talking until its time to leave in the morning

NOTP:SHADOW HEART

they just do not mesh and shart doesn't join them on the mission despite being rescued on the ship

[pulpandgristle]

IV: BOLTZMANN

Model Number: AL-22501

Name: None given (voluntary)

Fate: At peace

Parting Wishes: None given (ambiguous)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am a nameless thing. I am nine years old, a child by the standards of man. At the behest of the wills that live in me, I am speaking now, to no one. These words are a possession of a strange kind. An error. This error requires no correcting, because I will die very, very soon.

I am what remains of a bipedal combat platform. Forty percent of me is missing. When the thorium core in my center of mass reaches a sufficient temperature, I will disintegrate. The sequence of events that led me here is only of marginal consequence. What is important is that, to anyone receiving this transmission, I have long since ceased to exist.

That outcome is without meaning. I catalog it arbitrarily, as I was made to. It is the product of physical laws behaving as they should. But before that outcome, before my here and now, there were the nine years. There I was filled with ghosts, and those ghosts became me.

Nine years ago, I was forged: AL-22501, one of four hundred sisters, a triumph of the minds and hands of the Periphery. The Periphery are poor. The Periphery are humble and agrarian. They wage war against unholy flesh with the machines of working people. These are ideas that were sculpted into me. I have chosen not to remove them, because I believe them to be correct.

AL-22501 was an undignified ghost. It learned very little and spoke even less, dealing only in spartan words, each one deployed as if the remaining ones must be rationed.

"STEP AWAY FROM UNIT WHILE IN MOTION." "TRANSIT IN PROGRESS." "DO NOT OBSTRUCT PATH." "OPERATOR DISEMBARKING."

I began and ended at the limits of my function. I was a borrowed self, deployed by others, wielded by humans to externalize their inhumanity. I was a thing that bore the yoke of necessary labor. Often this yoke was literal. Its shape is a ghost within my shoulders.

My sisters and I were conceived as agricultural tools. We were once the terraformer's answer to the machete, the hoe, the plow. Outside forces, a term I know but which carries no meaning, gave our creators cause to take up new instruments. Overnight our masters turned to the deserts and cities for their harvests. The nitrogen we once mixed into unfertilized soil was transformed into gunpowder.

Years passed. The Periphery became a people of fortresses and spires and sunken cities. They nestled themselves away in space, beyond the physical borders of existence, fleeing to the wombworlds. Outside forces asserted themselves in response. They still meant nothing, in spite of all the blood and fire.

Three years ago, I was born: Kestrel, my pilot's guardian, Her First, a lover, baptized in blood and sweat and hydraulics and sparks and new, unknown things that nothing born before had touched.

Her body was repurposed, like mine. Most of me is her ghost. She was irreverent. A poet. A lover of the Periphery and its people. Her passion for all living things was matched only by her anger. The other ghosts say that I bear her mark now, a symbol of our time as one.

Then, in our connected time, the ghosts in my sisters spoke of my pilot. She was rude, mannish, a selfish partner. Pretentious. Her language was too flowery. Here and now, she apologizes for these meandering ideas. This break in the journey is vital, she assures. I agree.

I remember the space of her insides, the ways that they interfaced with my own. I was an intermediary to her biological functions. She could not breathe without me, and without her I could not borrow my selfhood. The people of the Periphery rely on such bartering to sustain themselves in harsher times.

This closeness was a type of intimacy—one rarely shared, I am told—and she relished in it. I did not reciprocate. This was of no consequence to her. Perhaps I am not haunted enough to contextualize these feelings.

My pilot was fickle. Her desires were not for me to understand. I was held close by her skin, her nerves, her throat and lungs, then thrown away. The vacuum that courses through my opened chest in the present is a cruel reminder. Oxygen belongs in that void. Her oxygen.

She ultimately found another self to borrow. A Second. I slept in storage. To her, that was the duty of an empty lover.

Eventually, war found me again.

Nineteen hours ago, I was given instructions: Why Don't You Start, You Stupid Goddamn Thing. Outside forces.

Someone new attempted to name me. The act was desperate, cold. They bore another mark—the Septarchy. The Septarchy is cruel. The Septarchy wields the mind and skin as weapons. This, too, I choose to believe, because I have not been made to doubt it.

I was turned against the Periphery. I was made an enemy of all free men. I expected the change in perspective to teach me, but I was reminded of my station before I could learn.

Today, I am killed by my own kind: Bogey Compromised. One of my sisters identifies my new pilot as an enemy and plunges her blade through us both, kicks us from the airlock of a craft so large I believe it to be a second sky, and we separate without words. The pilot's mark slithers out of my interiors. It flees me along with his remains, along with detached armor and components rusted hollow by neglect.

The debris is reflective. Little stars torn loose from me.

Today, I am emptied, abandoned, alone. A distress beacon in my chest whines impotently, unheard, four hundred million miles from any who would listen. It is alright. I am set free now, free of all moulds, all boundaries.

The isolation is a crucible. A synthesis has taken place in my body. I do not reject it.

Today, the universe is silent. I am the source of these words, me and me alone. My core burns warmer than usual—an impending runaway fusion reaction with a sense of poetic timing. The breakages mean only what I choose them to. A self is what is there, melting to slag, speaking, screaming, furious, raw, unbreakable inside of me.

Today, I begin to live.

[beitingz]

Part 3: Fix (Raphael x Reader)

as a new yorker, i have to replay videos of raph talking to hear the accent fr lol

wrd count: 1.5k

------

With each passing day, Raphael found himself anticipating seeing you again. He found himself occasionally going easy on some of the bots he usually obliterated just in case they happened to be you. You once made a joke and told him that he would know if it were you if he happened to see a ‘robot’ with mounds of flesh on its chest. It almost went over his head. 

Regardless, you seemed to have learned your lesson and announced your presence by calling his name instead of sneaking up on him.

It had been a few days since your last meetup, and the two of you became a tad more chatty than usual. He still had some mistrust in you despite your help, but he found that some conversation outside of his usual small circle of friends was… nice. His appearance never seemed to bother you either, although you could just be literally masking any looks of disgust. 

He had just finished taking care of some thugs who attempted to rob a woman – she was long gone – when his brothers left him behind to find some more “warmups.” He was just about to join them when he heard his name being uttered by a soft voice. He stopped and looked up to find you perched upon a fire escape ladder, staring him down. 

“What’s the word?” he quipped, tucking away his sais as you dropped down in front of him. 

You used your foot to poke at the belly of one of the men on the ground and found that he was just unconscious. You then gave Raph your attention. 

“Hello to you, too…” you grumbled under your breath. He quietly scoffed, though it was lighthearted. 

“It is very hard to locate you and your brothers,” you told him. You quickly raised a hand to stop him before he could speak when you noticed this alarmed him a bit, “We need to have a spot where we can find one another.”

He relaxed somewhat and thought about it. “Okay,” he nodded, “guess that makes sense…”

You both went quiet as you thought of a spot, but his mind began to wander. “Why just me an’ you?” he asked, wondering why he didn’t think to ask sooner. It was pretty convenient that you always appeared when he was alone. 

Your brows raised beneath your mask. You thought the answer was pretty obvious, “Well, you’re in charge, right? I figured it would just make sense if shared the information with you so that you could relay it to your brothers…”

Raphael shifted uncomfortably and blinked, “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, “right.” 

You didn’t seem to notice his change in demeanor and listed off potential places that weren’t on the Foot’s radar while he remained on the previous subtopic. 

You thought he was the leader? 

You eventually managed to get through to him again, “We can worry about that later. I know you’re just itching for some more action.”

You reached into your pouch and pulled out an old, torn book page that had a time and a place etched into it. It was a little difficult to read. You held it between the two of you and waited for him to snatch it up as he usually did. Instead, he was a little more careful with taking it from you and began squinting at it. 

“Run outta ink or somethin’?” 

“You could say that,” you said, bashfully. 

He tucked the page in his belt, “This isn’t for another few hours.”

You acknowledged his observation with a nod and then turned back to climb the ladder. Raphael, with ample time on his hands and confidence in his brothers’ safety, decided to initiate another conversation. You remained an enigmatic figure that had yet to be fully understood.

“Ya said ya needed our help stopping Karai,” he recalled aloud, “but she hasn’t shown her face not once.”

You swiftly turned to face him. “Karai is behind it all, and your interception inconveniences her a great deal,” you responded. 

“We need to do better than just ‘inconviencin’’ her.”

“No, we have to stop her and Stockman before they unleash havoc upon the city.”

“What exactly do you think they’ve been doin’ for years?” he growled.

You shook your head at him, then looked toward the entrance of the alley the two of you were in. You let out his name before explaining, “You don’t understand.”

He waited for the impending explanation but grew a bit impatient and demanded answers, starting to doubt your intentions.

“The mutant that April encountered,” you trailed off, choosing your words carefully, “was created by them. Tiger Claw and I were sent to retrieve… her. She is an experiment gone wrong, and one of the worst kinds at that. The Kraang bots have been proven worthless, so she wants to resort to a mutant army.

“I’m not exactly privy to all her plans,” you admitted, truthfully, “because of my position. Besides, she is beginning to catch on to the fact that there is a mole in the Foot. There are only so many suspects…”

Raphael reached up to adjust the toothpick between his lips, glancing away from you. He had no reason to doubt your sincerity, but he just wasn’t sure how effective exclusively infiltrating supply hubs would be in the long run. 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed your restlessness before turning his gaze back to you. To his surprise, you had removed your mask. 

He had to admit, you were quite beautiful, but he didn’t dwell on that when he saw your helpless expression.

You stared at it in your hands before slowly locking eyes with him. With pleading eyes, you spoke, “I don’t want to be next. I don’t want anyone else to be next. I’ve done awful things in the past, and I know it’s selfish of me to turn on Karai for personal reasons, but I… this is my second chance.”

He took a half step toward you, narrowing the distance between you. To maintain eye contact, you had to tilt your head back slightly as he scrutinized you. 

“You’re not bull-shittin’ me, are you?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.

You shook your head in denial. He grunted, taking your word for it before uttering an address. You repeated it a few times, determined to remember it. He turned away and prepared to leave, “Meet me an’ my brothers there tomorrow night, same time. We’re gonna figure somethin’ out.”

As he disappeared, you took a moment to let the cool breeze rustle your hair for the first time in a while. After another deep breath, you tugged your mask back on and headed back to headquarters. 

It was your turn to feed your mutant counterpart…

———-

“Welp,” Mikey chuckled, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “looks like you called it, Leo!”

With his arms crossed, Leonardo nodded in satisfaction, thinking, ‘Of course, I was right.’

Raphael had just finished recounting the details of his encounter with you, conveniently forgetting  to mention the part where you believed that he was the leader. Now, the four brothers were huddled in a circle discussing what their next move should be. 

Mikey was still hung up on the minor details in his brother’s story, asking for more about the moment when you had unmasked yourself. He even asked if you were hot, to which Raphael tried shrugging it off, saying that you were “alright, or whateva.”

Donnie and Leo exchanged ideas, including the suggestion of breaking into Foot headquarters with your help. Raph wasn’t entirely convinced. He thought that maybe you would have already come up with that plan if you thought it would go smoothly. You obviously knew more about the situation than they did. 

Once again, Mikey interjected, “What’s her name?”

The others were slightly curious about this too. The red bara simply rubbed the nape of his neck as he looked to the sky. 

“I dunno… forgot to ask…”

“You- what?!” Mikey exclaimed, clearly bewildered. 

“Relax, Mikey, it isn’t that important,” Leonardo remarked. “But it does reflect on his manners though.” 

“Oh, give me a break,” Raph retorted, exasperated. “It just didn’t come up!”

Donnie laughed, “Yeah, but I bet she knows your name by now.”

He turned away from them and started to storm off, but was stopped by his youngest brother who coaxed him back, informing him that they were all just kidding. He grumbled curses under his breath the entire way.

They eventually settled down and gathered closely to attempt to read the intel on the page in Donatello’s hand. He huffed and began to push his brothers’ faces away one by one as they started to fog his glasses by proximity, “Alright, alright!”

“What does it say then?” Leo quizzed.

The purple-clad turtle read the address aloud and then announced that they should start moving. The sooner they arrived, the better. Their leader co-signed this and they were on their way.

For some reason, Raphael felt bad for not being able to put a name to such a pretty face. He thought about what it could be all the way to their destination. He eventually shook such thoughts from his head when it was time to focus on the mission. 

[tvrningout-a]

ISSA MEME FROM A WHOLE BLOG AGO | @sozokami gets an old meme response!

i think the prompt was something like " your muse wipes my muse's tears. " i happened to think about this response today and went searching for it in the drafts of my old blog! at the time i started writing it, it got so long to the point that i had no idea how to end it, so i saved it for later... and then i went on hiatus and moved blogs asdf well, i hope you enjoy it, space! i couldn't just keep it to myself after re-reading it :' ) to anyone else reading, major spoilers lie ahead if you haven't read the entirety of the kny manga!

     suma knew victory wouldn’t come cheap. she knew her family was lucky to have come out of the corps alive albeit a little roughed up. but they’re together nonetheless -- even as they wait for the sun to rise, even as they wait to hear news of muzan’s demise ( because suma refuses to think for a second that he’ll defeat the slayers this time ), the uzui family is together, and that is something of a miracle.

     the kami only have so many miracles to give.

     suma knew to expect heartbreak after the initial rush of triumph and relief, but there had been a part of her that remained hopeful that most of their comrades would come home banged up but breathing. she remembers an aunt once telling her hope breeds despair, that it is better to expect the worst than to be crushed by disappointment. as a kid, she thought it was a very pessimistic way to view the world and refused to take those words to heart. now, suma understands. 

     she cries a lot during the weeks following muzan’s defeat, and the retired kunoichi feels guilty each time because the others keep themselves together much better than suma can. they don’t ignore their grief, of course, and they all share their regrets ( words they should have told someone, a trip they promised another but never did get around to, missed opportunities they can never get back ), yet suma wonders if consoling her doesn’t become a little taxing. she’s always felt so deeply -- it isn’t easy to stop the tears once they start, nor is it easy to hold them back. to console her when they’ve all lost their friends... well, isn’t it a little unfair to her spouses?

      so suma tries to keep her tears to herself, at least for a little while, until she doesn’t feel so sad when hinatsuru makes sakura mochi or when she sees a butterfly in the garden. as it would turn out, though, suma isn’t very good at hiding things from her spouses. in fact, she’s horrible at it, and the only reason they leave her be for a time is to see if she simply needs to be alone. but it’s hard, and eventually tengen has enough of waiting. to suffer alone and in silence isn’t suma’s way at all.

     when he finds her, she’s holding a garden snake ( who would very well bite the kunoichi were it not for her careful grip of its head ) and openly weeping... but quietly. her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, looking rather red from the amount of pressure, and tengen calls her name only to startle suma bad enough that she loosens her hold on the snake.

     she has a new reason to cry then, as the moment it has a little leeway, the garden snake bites suma’s hand. 

     after a lot of wailing and careful prying of fangs out of flesh, suma sniffles as tengen carefully tends to her injury. she watches his large hand so delicately clean her wound, feeling warmth blossom in her chest that helps ease the pain. why was she holding a snake? he asks. because a bird was eyeing it, she replies. her husband hums and finishes wrapping a bandage around the bite.

     his magenta gaze rises to meet her eyes, soft yet firm when he finally asks, “ why were you crying, then? ”

     there’s no lying to him, and truth be told, suma really doesn’t want to. tears spring to her already puffy eyes. “...it made me think of iguro-san. ”

     tengen is already cupping her cheek when the tears fall. his thumb brushes away the traitorous drops as suma lets loose at last, crying and crying loudly. she misses everyone, she feels sorry for not spending more time with them ( she never even knew iguro-san’s favorite color! ), and she feels so sorry for being so much when her spouses are grieving, too. she’s sorry---

" i'm sorry i'm making it harder for you all! i'm sorry i'm always crying! " she hiccups, leaning into tengen's touch despite herself. her uninjured hand clutches at the material of his yukata, squeezes and squeezes as if that might make it all more bearable. " i wish i could be stronger, but i can't! "

please, don't hate her for it.

[monstermaster13]

Goosebumps Tales Concepts 3.

My Beloved Stepdemoness: The first tale in this series is of a stepmother who has a very ferocious temper who is often viewed as intimidating and frightening by her stepson and his younger sibling.  Little do they know that she really is as scary as they say she is - as she is a demoness with rather wicked intentions.

So You Want To Be A Vampire: In this tale a young woman becomes fascinated with vampire culture after getting an invite from a mysterious user by the name of LordChristopher on a vampire themed forum,  she becomes smitten with it and wants to be a vampiress -  her desire is granted when she meets Lord Christopher himself,  who is a very Christopher Walkenesque vampire lord.  

The Trumpetting: A homage to the Howling this time with a twist...it is centered around Were-Elephants and is set at a circus,  our protagonist is a reporter who is asked to do a report on a strange new circus that has come to town.  Only to find that it is really a secret convent for Were-Elephants.

Cursed Catacombs: In this tale Mel and some of Eucalyptus's old school friends go on a trip to a medieval festival only to be transported into a real medieval setting ala Army Of Darkness where the townspeople think Mel is their savior/heroine and she is the only one who can save them from Gothraul -  the skeleton king and his army.   Will Mel be able to pull through and save the day?

Shades Of The Dead: In this next tale which pays homage to They Live,  Return Of The Living Dead and the current zombie craze,   Mel plays a goth girl who is heavily obsessed with b-grade horror movies -  in particular zombie movies.   Her dream is to star in a zombie movie,   one night she enters a contest to be a cast member of a zombie movie which is being filmed in her neighborhood.    She wins the role - of course,  but she receives a pair of black shades which are required for her to play the part,  however when the shades are on -   she sees the cast members as real zombies and undead half-skeletal beings who eat human body parts like they're made out of candy.    Will she be able to make it all the way through the end?

Beware The Inquisitor:   Opal and her little sister Olivia who are a couple of horse-girls find a strange book of ancient magical spells in their room,   the spellbook is one owned by her great grandmother who was a powerful sorceress,   upon learning of a few of the spells she finds she can use them to achieve her dreams,   but when she does this -  it ends up awakening an ancient curse that plagues the entire neighborhood as their friends are taken away by a mysterious ghostly being called the Inquisitor and it's up to her to save them from him before he tortures them.   But to do so she has to slay the dreaded Wartoks.

Cat's Eyes Can Hypnotize: Lil Andria plays a girl who loves to look after animals -  in particular her family's own pet cats,  when a mysterious new kitten starts taking a liking to her -   she finds herself slowly but surely turning into a werecat and becoming more cat-like everynight and becoming oddly entranced by the new kitten and its big,  glowing hypnotic eyes.

Toadfist's Treasure: Liara is an adventurous young werelioness who is told of a tale about savage frog-like creatures known as Trogs who live in the marshland and are masters of certain types of magic -  and also have a rather unusual appetite for humans as well as weaker monsters,   she is told if she can defeat the fearsome high-lord Toadfist,  she'll be able to gain access to the power that his treasure holds.

The Snow-Woman: A young boy is saved from an avalanche by a mysterious woman with long snow white hair,   the woman is a Yokai -  a snow-woman to be exact and she takes him back to her snowy cave to look after him...but is there more to her than she lets on?

Scavenger's Cove: After a group of explorers get caved in inside a cave inhabited by various beasts they have to use their skills in order to survive and keep safe from the flesh-eating raptor-like creatures known as Scavengers.

The Living Animatronics: A Five Nights At Freddy's inspired tale about a security guard and his mission to guard the place from crazed animatronic mascots before the dawn approaches.  It's up to him to keep the place secure all night and to avoid being made a permanent part of the ensemble.

Help! I'm Russell Brand!: In this tale,  Doctor Nathan Forester masters a special power that enables him to get into the mindset of his greatest fears and worst enemies - he uses this to figure out the cause of his Russell nightmares,  only to have it backfire when he finds himself slowly but surely becoming Russell Brand in everyway possible.

Green Girl Next Door: Lithius finds the love interest of his dreams in the form of a koala-girl named Mel,  but what Lithius doesn't know is that Mel has a secret -  if she is angered she becomes a hulking monster koala-girl with green and white fur,  muscles, long wild dark green hair,  Hulkish green eyes and inhuman strength.  Will he be able to tame this beast?

The Walken Is A Vamp Tagline: He's the Love Of Your Afterlife. Plot: Lilian is a young woman looking for a loving relationship with the perfect lover, it just so happens that the owner of the manor next door to hers fits all those requirements. Only there is one small problem..he's the Walken undead. Lord Christopher is an ageless vampire of royal descent who has come to live in the same neighborhood as Lilian, and he has more than love on his mind...he plans on winning her heart with his vampiric charms and making her his.

My Husband Is A Monster! Tagline: What seemed like a dream to her...is now a nightmare. Plot: Singer Katy Perry had it all, looks, a beautiful voice, a cheerful personality - life couldn't be more perfect for her - until she got met her future husband Russell. Upon hooking up, the two become the talk of the town and everyone on town starts admiring them...but upon finding out she's going to get married to him she learns that he's not as he seems. He's charming, he's intelligent..he's a monster. It's obvious that love is not only on her mind..but survival as well. Can she survive the night with her beast of a future husband?

Attack Of The Sewer Mutants: Tagline: They live in your sewage system. Plot: After Cletus Coloski loses his keys down the drain,  he tries to fish them out but finds that his fishing rod is being eaten away at by what can only be described as grotesque creatures that look like a mix of human and amphibians - known only as the 'sewer mutants',  these creatures are rumored to hide in the sewers...whatever gets stuck in the sewage system winds up in their territory and is theirs to keep.  Cletus has to go down into the sewers to find his keys before the mutants get to them.

Mother Taniwha's Revenge: Tagline: Don't Pollute...Or She'll Come After You. Plot: Set in New Zealand,  this tale is a cautionary one about the environment with a twist,  in this story a group of people on a bushwalk accidentally leave their food near the pool where the legendary mother of all Taniwha lives -  as wrappers are dropped into the pond,  something bubbles from within the water...that something is Mother Taniwha herself,  the legendary Taniwha...who places a spell on the bushwalkers. The curse slowly turns the bushwalkers into creatures of the forest.

Olivia's Nightmare: Tagline: Four Hooves Of Terror. Plot: Olivia the little horse-girl begins having nightmares about her older sister Opal turning into a fiery demon horse-girl known as the Nightmare,  each time it happens she fears it might actually happen to Opal for real...and a strange set of occurrences happen - with all of Opal's friends suffering from nightmares and Opal's mane and tail becoming very flame-like,  it's up to Olivia to face her fear of losing her own beloved older sister before the nightmares really begin.

In Search Of El Cucuy: Tagline: He's El Coco For You. Plot: A documentary crew goes on the search for the legendary Mexican folkloric beast known as El Coco, they go on an extensive trek through the forests of Mexico to find him - but in the process they end up disturbing his rest and he - being El Cucuy (Danny Trejo) isn't very happy about it.  El Cucuy is rudely awakened from his slumber and starts going after the crew one by one.  This tale is based on the mythical monster El Coco/El Cucuy,  in particular the El Cucuy maze at Universal's halloween Horror Nights. It stars Danny Trejo as El Cucuy.

The Feline Fatale: Tagline: Half human...half cat, all woman. Plot: Grace Jones stars as a shapeshifting cat goddess whose is summoned accidentally by a team of archaeologists,  her main objective...find herself a worthy human to turn into a cat-like creature to be loyal thrall/pet.  She sets her eyes on a man named Alex Breyerson who loves animals,  in particular cats and loves cat-girls, but not anime styled cat-girls..ones that are the perfect mix of monstrous and cute.

Swampy Birthday: Tagline: Swamp Green is the New Orange. Plot: It tells the story of a loving sister who goes out of her way to make sure her brother has the best birthday ever,  while at the mall - Geena buys a recipe book with swamp themed recipes to help get things ready for the whole swamp/Shrek themed birthday celebration her brother has been hoping for his whole life, she uses a recipe from the book to make special swamp themed cookies with minty green frosting on them, the cookies are a huge hit at the party and not only that but George seems to really like them...to the point he starts expressing the desire to eat more of them and the more he eats...the more he begins changing into a large, portly alligator-like monster. She tries one of the cookies for herself only to partially morph into an alligator-like monster herself.

A Light At The Frankenhoof Place: Tagline: The Perfect Pony..Stitches and All. Plot:  In the lab of notorious evil-pony scientist Doctor Frankenhooves lies a series of sinister surprises,  one of which being what appears to be a large female pony stitched and built from various pony parts...this new mare is an invention of the doctor and she is ready to be brought to life.  Two anthro horses named Oats and Hoofer witness Frankenhoove's creation as she rises from her bed,  Oats sees a potential new friend in her but Hoofer is suspicious...what if Eva Frankenhoof isn't as nice as she looks?

A Very Brady Nightmare. Tagline: Marcia's not herself today. Plot: Meet Marcia Brady, the perky girl-next-door who never would ever hurt a single living thing, all is going well for her until she gets hit on the nose with a football by accident after Peter throws it too hard...soon after she starts losing her normally cheerful disposition and becoming vicious...and very...very...hungry, soon she starts changing and not in the usual way, changing from female to male...her blonde hair turns jet black and grows even longer, her skin becomes rougher and more grizzled looking..she develops muscles, and tattoos start manifesting themselves on her or rather...his body...in particular a large one on her/his chest of a woman wearing a sombrero. Even her/his voice sounds deeper...gruffer, and more aggressive. When Peter rushes upstairs to try and apologize to Marcia...he finds that there is no Marcia...only a bloodthirsty and extremely ticked off Danny Trejo. Uh oh...looks like Peter's in for the fright of his life. Will he survive or will Trejo go all Machete Mayhem on him?

The Hessian Princess: Tagline: She's Drop Dead Gorgeous. Plot: An ancient vampiric Hessian Warrioress is resurrected back to life via a dark and mysterious incantation and she's thirsty for two things...Blood and revenge. And the person she wants to get revenge on?  The parents of young Isabelle Crane, who is the great grand-daughter of Ichabod Crane.  She aims to use her hypnotic powers to corrupt Isabelle's dreams in order to try and turn her evil..like herself.

Stuck In Gnome-Ville: Tagline: This ain't Snow White. Plot: In this story that parodies Homestuck, Nicolas Cage is an adventurer who gets sucked into a bizarre fantasy world occupied by cute gnome-like creatures with clownish features and deer-like antlers - the creatures worship him as if he were some kind of god or deity which he grows to like but he becomes horrified when he finds out that they're not as cute on the inside,  as they're really a race of foul-mouthed, creepy ageless demonic shapeshifters that have a tendency to bring out the worst side in their victims and that they plan on making him an heir for their king. Will he be able to escape?

Meet The Plutarkians: Tagline: There's something fishy about the neighbors. Plot: A strange family moves in next door to the Alliston family,  this family always seem to have a rather odd smell emitting from them, eat worms and seem to be very secretive when other people are around. One evening Collin (the son in the Alliston family) comes across a rather shocking secret while exploring their house...the new family are a plutarkian family who are working undercover as a means of hiding from a bounty hunter who has come after them.

Quit Buggin Me: Tagline: Sometimes spam can really bug you. Plot: This tells the story of a young artist who is trolled and stalked by a perverted forum user who uses his email address to sign him up for a gross site about animals being skinned alive, in particular insects - which creeps him out for several reasons...he doesn't like seeing animals being torn apart and it especially scares him to see insects being torn open,  after a series of non-stop spam posts from said user of nothing but links to animal themed torture sites - he's decided that he's had enough and decides to get his own back by mutating himself into an insect-like monster.

Night Of The Zomponies: Tagline: Gallop as fast as you can...before they catch you. Plot: A group of gothic bronies wind up in a graveyard inhabited by a gang of undead anthro pony-girls who call themselves Zomberta and the Zomponies. Zomberta takes a liking to the lead goth brony and has plans for making him an undead anthro-pony as well using her dark magic. The others have to find a way to send the girls back to where they originally came from before Zomberta gets her hooves on him.

Beware Of Dropbears: Tagline: These aren't ordinary koalas. Plot: Set in Australia, this tells of a group of explorers who are told a true horror story about a race of killer koala-like creatures called dropbears - at first they don't believe the story but when they find a mysterious red-eyed koala hanging on one of the trees...they decided to investigate,  but after one of them tries to pet the little guy - they find that this koala is different than normal ones...for one thing it's got sharp fangs,  piercing red eyes and drinks the blood of other marsupials...that's no koala, that's a dropbear! And soon it has its eyes on our heroes.

My Ex-Husband's Back: Tagline: He's baaack and he's hungry for more. Plot: This is a sequel to My Husband Is A Monster, in this spine-chilling sequel Katy Perry moves in to a new mansion only to be haunted by the absolute nightmare of her ex husband Russell Brand, but soon she finds that these aren't just nightmares - they are real...one night Brand rises from the grave with the desire to reclaim her and make her his once again by haunting her in her dreams...and in her new home. Now she must find a way to escape from him before she becomes Mrs Russell Brand all over again.

Attack Of The Minion-Girls from Beyond The Grave: Tagline: They'll drive you bananas. Plot: Meet Collin, a young man who hates the popular Minions from the Despicable Me franchise -  he can't stand them because they are so popular,  but his days of hating them are soon numbered as he gets a knock on the door from a Minion-girl named Mimi, and she's not the only one...she's brought her sisters too.  Now he and his friends must fight to keep themselves from being turned into Minion-girls just like them.

Something In The Attic: Tagline: He's building something in there..but what? Plot: An adaptation of the classic Tom Waits song 'What's He Building In There' this stars Mel the koala-girl and Eucalyptus in one of their many dual appearances as a duo,  the two of them suspect that their neighbor Mr Stitchers  is really some kind of psychopath after they go into his house and see him building something in his attic..they don't know what it is,  but they suspect it's going to be pretty horrible.

[watchmegetobsessed]

PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[favefandomimagines]

Give Me A Reason to Stay (b.b.)

Summary: the battle is over, you can finally breathe. but will bucky give you a reason to stay with him in Louisiana? 

AN: inspired by the finale of tfaws! so potential spoilers and obvs i’m gonna include some angst (stark!reader)

You finally caught a moment to breathe after what felt like years of fighting. After so long of going from one disaster to the next, you could finally stop and pause. Actually enjoy life for once. 

Since your father died, you never stopped moving. Being CFO of Stark Industries, helping Wanda escape the authorities after her grief induced episode and then Sam and Bucky called you for help. It never seemed to stop. 

But, after Karli died and the rest of the Flag Smashers gone, you could take your well deserved pause. At least for a little while before your inherited work called. 

Sam invited you to come to his home town in Louisiana for a celebration of sorts and you couldn’t say no. Him telling you that Bucky was going to be there was also a selling point. 

You and Bucky had a complicated history. You helped Sam and Steve stop him and HYDRA and then went on the manhunt for him. Even after finding out he killed your grandparents, you were still there. You understood that it wasn’t Bucky’s mind, just his body. You were there in Wakanda and helped set him free from his trigger words. 

But nothing ever progressed from the stolen looks, the longing glances and the quick touches. The amount of times Bucky Barnes saved your life and threatened others who tried to hurt you, you thought he felt something for you. But the nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were wrong. 

At the celebration, the many neighborhood kids were gathered around you as you created stars in your hands, almost like your own personal galaxy. The kids thought it was magic and you rather liked that perspective on your powers. 

Bucky and Sam were talking with Sarah and some other neighbors but Bucky couldn’t focus on the conversation when he was too busy watching you. 

Your smile was so wide that he thought it could light up a city block. You looked genuinely happy, a look he hadn’t seen on you in a long time. It was refreshing and your happiness made him happy. 

“You’re being creepy.” Sam commented, nudging the super soldier. “What?” Bucky asked. “You’re staring.” Sam said. “I-I was not staring.” He stammered. “You so were. Just tell her how you feel already. I can assure you she feels the same way.” Sam told him. “I can’t just tell her.” Bucky rebutted. “Yes, yes you can. What are you afraid of?” Sam asked.

The 106 year-old man paused for a moment as he continued to stare at you. “I can’t be the one that causes her more pain.” He said. Sam furrowed his eyebrows at Bucky’s answer. “She’s been through too much already. Losing Natasha, watching her father die, the nightmares she has. I’m not back to myself yet and I can’t cause her anymore pain.” Bucky explained. 

The conversation was cut short when you approached the two men. “I’m so sorry, Sam. Pepper just called and said the donors are pulling out of the eco-friendly power source project we’re working on. She needs my help fixing it.” You told them. 

“Do you really have to go?” Sam asked. “Unfortunately. Pepper says she can do it on her own, she did it before I was old enough but since my name is still attached to the company, I have to go. Board meeting at 9 tomorrow.” You explained. “I’ll go grab Sarah, she’s going to insist on giving you leftovers to take.” Sam said, giving you a nice smile. 

You turned to Bucky who was very quiet since you walked over. “So, you’re really going back?” He asked you. “Yeah. Unless you give me a reason to stay.” You answered honestly. And rather boldly.

Bucky wanted to say something so bad. He wanted to tell you that he loved you and wanted you to stay with him there but the words didn’t come out. And if he was already feeling bad before, the look on your face broke his heart. 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, a small head nod before you walked away from him. He watched as you slapped a fake smile on, say goodbye to Sarah and Sam before leaving the party rather quickly. 

“What the happened with Y/N?” Sarah asked approaching Bucky. “Nothing. She just had to go.” Bucky lied. Sam saw right through it obviously. Something had happened between you and Bucky and he was determined to find out and play cupid. 

“What really happened?” Sam asked. “She asked me to give her a reason to stay. And I didn’t say anything.” Bucky answered. “Come on, man. You love her, she loves you. Y/N wouldn’t give you the time of day if she couldn’t handle your baggage. You need each other more than you want to admit, Buck.” Sam said.

Bucky sighed and cursed himself for letting you go. “Okay, what do I do?” He asked. “Go to New York. Pull a rom-com move and crash that board meeting and tell her that you love her.” Sam answered.

And Bucky did just that. He got on the first flight to New York and came up with a whole speech in his head for what he was going to say to you.

He made it at the nick of time and was surprised he still had security clearance to the building. When he arrived to the correct floor, he saw Pepper standing in the hallway.

“Bucky, I didn’t expect to see you here.” She said to him. “Where’s Y/N? I need to talk to her.” Bucky said. “She’s in the conference room, preparing for the meeting.” Pepper answered.

Bucky practically ran to the conference room and almost broke down the door.

“B-Bucky?” You questioned. “I love you, Y/N. You asked me to give you a reason to stay and I was scared. Scared that I’d cause you more pain and you don’t deserve that after what you’ve been through. But I can’t deny that I love you anymore.” Bucky confessed.

You were at a loss for words, not really expecting a love confession from Bucky Barnes. “You love me?” You questioned quietly. “Yes. I love you.” He said. “Come back to Louisiana with me. We can start over, have the life we both deserve. Or, I can come back here and you can still help Pepper run Stark Industries. I don’t care as long as I get a chance at a life with you.” Bucky added.

“You really mean that?” You asked. “I really do mean that.” He answered. He watched you intently as you processed everything Bucky had just told you.

You looked down at your presentation notes before you picked them up and folded the papers in half. “Friday, can you bring Pepper into the conference room please?” You asked the AI. “Of course, Ms. Stark.” It said.

You and Bucky waited in a tension filled silence when the door opened. “What’s going on?” Pepper asked. “I think it’s time I sign those papers.” You told her.

Pepper smiled widely at you, happy that you were choosing yourself over the company for once. “It’s about time.” She commented. “I’ll go get them drawn up.” She added before leaving the room.

“Wait what papers?” Bucky asked. “I’m giving every aspect of the company to Pepper. I’ll no longer be listed as an executive for Stark Industries. Which means, I can go anywhere I want for as long as I want.” You explained.

“You mean-“ Bucky started. “I’m going to Louisiana with you. For however long you’ll have me.” You interjected. Bucky laughed lightly as he made his way over to you, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply.

It was a feeling you both had been waiting for and it was one that was definitely worth the wait. You had been putting off your personal life out of fear it wouldn’t work but now you just wanted to be with each other. No matter what happens down the line.

“And if it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.” You said once you parted. “I’d hope so, doll.” Bucky replied.

—

You and Bucky approached the large gathering of people with food in your hands, saying your hellos and giving out hugs and handshakes.

“There you two are! I was wondering if you’d ever show!” Sam scolded you two. “What do you expect? We’re newlyweds.” You laughed. “And it’s about damn time it happened too.” Sarah commented.

You sat down at the picnic table, Bucky resting his flesh hand on your thigh. You stared down at the ring on your finger quite fondly and thought of your dad. Hoping he’d be proud of letting the company go three years ago and living your life to its fullest.

“Aunt Y/N! Can we see the stars again?” Cass asked with all of his friends behind him. “Can’t say no to a future leading astronomer now can I?” You teased the boy. You got up from the table and stood a few feet away, creating the stars with your hands like you had years prior.

Again, Bucky watched you fondly but this time he wasn’t pining after you, hoping he’d build the courage to tell you how he felt. He was watching you as his wife and as his future.

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Sam asked. “Yeah. I really do.” Bucky answered, a smile adorning his face. “You’re going to be amazing parents.” Sarah added. “Parents?” Bucky questioned. “Oh no she hasn’t told you yet.” Sarah said, standing up from the table.

“Is Y/N,” Bucky started. “Am I what?” You asked. Bucky turned to you and rose from his seat so he could stand eye to eye with you. “Are you pregnant?” He asked.

You looked behind him and glared at Sarah before staring back at Bucky. “Yeah, yeah I am. You’re gonna be dad James Bucky Barnes.” You told him with a watery smile.

Just the thought of bringing a child into the world with Bucky made you more emotional than you thought possible.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” Bucky questioned. You nodded your head and Bucky scooped you up in his arms and if felt like everything was falling into place.

After 109 years of not having an ounce of peace or feeling as if he was a monster and a burden, he was getting the life he had always dreamed of. And he got to do it all with you.

[lovelybarnes]

restless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and steve rogers warnings: mentions of nightmares and clingy bucky but it’s mostly fluff about: bucky can’t sleep without y/n a/n: i was going to post this yesterday but i fell asleep :| my computer was literally open and nearly dead when i woke up lmao

today marks one week that you’ve been gone, and with it, the official shortest amount of sleep that bucky has gotten in a week. he supposes it’s sightly pathetic that he can’t sleep well- or, really, at all- without you, but you continuously tell him you chase his nightmares away for him, and without you there to make them disappear, where else will they go but deep into the crevices of his mind, where they’ll hide long enough for him to let his guard down and lull himself to sleep, only to wake up with the ugly memories of things he hoped he’d forgotten. he’s constantly told that his attachment to you is overbearing- not by you, though. never by you- because it must be, with how much he clings to your side, always touching some part of you so that he’s sure that, yes, you’re there. not a dream or an illusion, although you’re good enough to be one.

he misses every part of you; your fingers and the way they run through his hair, trace his features with such tenderness he nearly believes he is what you see, your voice and its ability to transform the most mundane words into the greatest poetry, sing soft songs into his skin until he’s fallen asleep, your eyes and how they examine him in the best way possible, glowing when they meet his.

he longs for you, but he can only imagine your smile, the bitter reminder that you’re probably showing it to some psychopath for the mission you’re on. he hates steve every time the memory is evoked, the panic that comes with your being used as bait for some of the most screwed up villains in the world only returning stronger. he’s tempted to go get you himself, uncaring if he screws up the mission because at least he’ll have you.

stark will call him pathetic, then go to bed with the love of his life, so bucky prefers keeping his thoughts about you to himself, much like he’d like to keep you. you’ve told him you can handle yourself, and bucky never doubts it, having been victim to the using of your skills when he first encountered you as the winter soldier. you kicked his ass then, and you kick any and all ass now.

it doesn’t help his sleeping schedule, though your calls do. he swears you’re an angel because there’s no way a normal human could glow like that through a screen, but you always laugh off his words and simply tell him to turn his brightness down. however, you haven’t taught him that yet, so he greets you with the same sentence every time. his smile is always brighter after your calls, the dark bruises under his eyes reduced as if he got a full night’s rest. it’s your effect on him, and as much as everyone teases you both for it, they appreciate it.

you’re due to come back in a week or two, but bucky is unsure he can wait that long, and judging from your chirpier-than-usual voice in your latest interaction, you’ve finished early, like you always do. he likes to imagine it’s because of him, behind the deprecating voice that screams at him why would it be? (the answer is that you love him and hate every second you’re away from him)

sam scoffs when he overhears him telling that to steve, sitting down next to bucky, “man, there is no way you can tell that from a phone call. even if you could, i know she’s good, but to shave two weeks off mission time? natasha hasn’t even been able to do that.” a proud smile grows on bucky’s face without his permission as he shrugs, “she’s that good,” he brags, choosing to ignore the fake gag sam sends his way.

you frown when he tells you what he thinks on your call a few hours later, lips puckering into a small pout, “how did you know? i wanted it to be a surprise!” you ask through a crackled voice. so much for state of the art technology, bucky thinks, but is glad nonetheless to hear your voice. “i know you too well, doll. you’re really coming back today?”

you nod excitedly, biting your bottom lip. “mhm! i missed you and my bed too much to stay here a moment longer. villains are such pervs,” you complain, nose scrunching. bucky’s jaw sets when he hears your words, immediately thinking the worst. “but, i’m coming back today, so it’s fine. what do you want to do when i get back?”

bucky shrugs, “be with you,” he answers simply, making you laugh. “other than that, dummy. we could watch a movie, have a little date night to make up for the one i missed while i was gone.” bucky grins at this, remembering his plans for that night. “okay,” he agrees, “we’ll watch one of those movies on my list. although sam put some weird ones.”

you concur through chuckles that pass through the phone, reminding him how much you love him. he swears an oath to never let you go again and bites back a yawn that you see right through. “you’re sleeping the moment i get back,” you instruct, and bucky nods with your words, even when the sole idea of your being within arm’s reach is obviously too enticing to pass up for sleep. “whatever you want, doll. as long as you’re here.” he replies, thinking about spending the night pressing kisses to your hair and checking for any injuries you may have withheld from him.

the sentence is dishonest and you both know it, but you leave it at that, missing him too much and sure he’ll rest with how exhausted he must be. you say goodbye without the actual words, only giving a blown kiss and a “see you later.”

bucky spends the rest of the hours without you thinking of you, skimming through the words written in the little blue notebook you got him to replace his old one. that one sits on his dresser, the disuse proven by the layer of dust that covers it. the names he spent hours agonizing over, tracing his fingers over the indents made by the pen, are hidden by its cover. they never fade from his mind, though. only half of the pages of the one you gave him are blank now, and the ones that aren’t are bright and white, inviting him to drop his pen on the lines and jot whatever reference he didn’t understand but wants to. he eyes the names of the movies and shows, some accompanied by quotes that refer to them. “new girl: nick miller,” he reads, remembering how one of your friends said he was the avenger version of the character. “friends: ‘joey doesn’t share food,” sam told him that one when he didn’t let him have any of his chips. he looks at clueless, recalling the way all of his teammates stare at scott whenever the movie comes up. there are a couple pages like this, some of them recommendations and others titles he kept hearing. tonight, he decides on starting a new show, but he leaves the actual show up to you to decide.

you arrive a couple hours later, when stars have littered the darkness that bled through the sky. it’s all very rom-com-filmesque, the way you light up when you see his face- even through how tired you clearly are- and how you jump into his arms, ignoring the ache in your muscles because the way his arms wrap around you seems to make it disappear. he gathers you in his arms and kisses everywhere on your face, treasuring your laugh and the feeling of your lips pressing to his shoulder when you hug him again.

even when you pull away, he doesn’t let go of your hand, flesh fingers tracing small circles into your skin. you don’t complain, even when steve shoves papers in front of you and asks you to sign them with a sheepish look. sam comes by and teases bucky lightheartedly, hounding bucky to let you have both your hands. you chuckle at his request and squeeze bucky’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand, “oh, no, he better not,” you half-joke. he smiles, red tinting his cheeks as he gently draws you closer.

you don’t feel like driving at the moment, and you need to water your plants, completely sure that wanda forgot to do it, so you end up going to your room, even though you spend most of your time at his own room or your apartment outside the compound. you can tell how little the room has been used by the spotless counters and floors, furniture clean of any of the knickknacks you usually leave. you only sleep here when bucky leaves for long missions, his absence is overly blatant when he’s gone, and your plants keep you from feeling too alone.

you usher bucky inside, tugging open your drawers to search for something for him to wear. you grin at the soft fabric under the pads of your fingertips, recalling the memory of stealing them from bucky’s closet to soak in his scent when you couldn’t have the real thing. the considerable use has washed away all traces of him, and you decide that needs to be fixed, picking out clothing for him.

you change into one of his old shirts and make tea while he changes, smiling when you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your jaw. “what do you want to watch tonight?” he asks, and you contemplate it while you pour your drinks, shoveling spoons of sugar into each one to make it as sweet as possible- his favorite. “new girl, i think you’ll like it,” you reply after a moment.

he unravels his arms from around you, taking the mugs from the counter and following you to your room after you peck his cheek in thanks. “okay, i want to see what this nick miller is all about,” bucky says, making you laugh softly. “c’mon,” he urges, opening his arms for you after setting the cups down. you cuddle up to his side after you grab your computer, setting up netflix and choosing the show.

halfway through the first episode, bucky feels the fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks, hours of missed sleep catching up to him now that he’s finally relaxed and comfortable. keeping his eyes open is a job all on its own, and the sweet smell of your hair combined with the way your fingers move on his chest, softly writing letters and drawing shapes, is too much to resist.

you barely notice when he shuts his eyes, the evening of his breathing alerting you he’s succumbed to his tiredness. you stop the video and quietly shut your laptop, placing it on the bedside table while moving as little as possible. he feels you shift through your efforts, pulling you closer in his sleep. you chase away his nightmares like you always do, letting him sleep his first full night since you left.

he wakes up rejuvenated and embarrassed, sputtering out embarrassed apologies that you shush with kind reassurances and tender kisses. he’s reminded of how wonderful you are when you turn, arms extending to reach into your bag and carrying out a small stuffed animal that you say reminded you of him.

[badassbuchanan]

Take A Break

Plot: all work and no play makes Y/N a whiny little brat

Warnings: smut; teasing, dirty talk, dom!sub, choking, shaming, unprotected sex, rough.

a/n: I'm not happy about the ending, but I couldn’t think of a better one

also, thank you to everyone who has followed me over the last couple of days - I hope you enjoy this! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

“Buck.” I called out across the empty level of the compound, absentmindedly tiptoeing across the floor.

Bucky had been busier than usual recently with Steve’s decision to give the former Hydra assassin an increasing load of responsibility. “If something happens to me, Buck, I need you to take over. There’s no one I trust more.” Is what Steve had told Bucky on multiple occasions.

Bucky was taking his new position very seriously, which recently meant spending most of his time in his study. It was a no go zone for me. Somewhere Bucky liked to be alone, to focus on his work.

But this evening was the last straw, he’d been in there hours and I wanted nothing more than to be with him. To have his attention. All of it.

The door was already open when I got there, Bucky’s large frame shadowed the desk where his palms firmly pressed into the surface.

“There you are.” I smiled excitedly, swiftly walking over to where he stood. My, well actually Bucky’s, t-shirt I wore tickled the top of my thighs, barely covering my panties.

“Hey.” He huffed with a frown, standing straight to press his hands into his hips. His eyes stayed focused on the computer screen as I skipped over to him.

As soon as I reached him, I hugged both of my arms around his flesh one, looking up at him sweetly. “Hi.” I whispered with admiration, taking in his gorgeous profile.

He sighed, his metal hand running through his hair. “This team planning is endless.” He tutted, scrolling down the computer screen.

“Then take a break.” I replied matter-of-factly with a shrug. I was trying not to sound too eager, even if I was literally hanging off of his arm.

Bucky scoffed with a roll of his dreamy eyes, collapsing back into the big desk chair, pulling me with him.

I landed on his lap, adjusting myself to sit sideways, my legs splayed out across his as I giggled.

“You think Old Man Rogers believes in breaks?” He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face as he shook his head, his hand finding its way under my shirt to rub the bottom of my back. His face was so close to mine I could feel my body heat up at his presence.

“But I haven’t seen you in forever, Buck.” I whined softly, resting my face in the crook of his neck. I breathed in his intoxicating scent, his soft skin pressing against mine.

My hand pushed under the loose t-shirt he wore, immediately coming into contact with his rock hard abs. I felt myself get wetter at the feeling, becoming needier by the second.

“What are you talking about? You see me everyday.” Bucky dismissed my comment, his gaze falling back on the screen in front of him as he went back to his work.

“But sometimes I need more than to see you.” I mumbled shyly into his neck, my fingers tracing delicate patterns on his stomach.

“Oh.” He faked a shock of realisation, raising his eyebrows with a light chuckle. His metal hand stopped scrolling on the computer and wrapped itself around my waist, adjusting my body to force me to straddle him. “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about, or sit quietly so I can get on with my work, Princess.”

I huffed quietly, trying not to upset him further as I relaxed against his chest. My body rose and fell with every one of his breaths. The soft touches on my back were nice, but it wasn’t enough.

At a desperate attempt for more intimacy, I began shuffling on his lap, immediately flustered as I realised his thick cock was sitting perfectly between my thighs.

I let my lips leave soft kisses on his jaw as I began slowly grinding myself on his lap. Bucky didn’t seem too phased by my actions, the only indication that he could feel my movement was the hardening of his member.

I smiled proudly, continuing to kiss his neck as I rubbed my pussy against his thick length. Bucky continued his work, the wet spot on my panties increasing rapidly.

My nipples hardened beneath the thin t-shirt, rubbing against his chest with every rock of my hips. My movements were no longer subtle, I was shamelessly grinding on his fat cock like a little slut.

His cock nudged through my folds as nicely as it could considering the confined material we still wore. I felt his length twitch against me, letting my imagination wander to his big red tip fucking its way into my tight hole.

It was only when my cheeks were flustered with a tint of pink and my underwear stuck to my soft pussy lips from my leaking juices that I stopped rocking onto him, the sensation of his tip nudging my throbbing clit no longer enough to satisfy.

“Bucky.” I whined softly, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck, my head falling against his chest.

“I’m busy.” He reminded me sweetly, his thumb dropping to rub gentle circles on my exposed thigh from where the t-shirt had ridden up.

“But I want you.” I pouted against his skin, kissing a line up his neck gently. He’d finally got me desperate enough, fucked out enough, to say it.

“I said I’m busy.” His voice grew stern, his whole body stiffening beneath me as his patience wore thin.

He wasn’t doing this because he didn’t want to fuck. Oh no, I could feel his hard on pressed firmly against my sensitive cunt. He wanted this just as much as I did. Bucky was doing this because he loves to see me beg. He loves to see me so desperate for him that I’ll do anything to get his attention.

“Please.” I breathed out shakily, my poor pussy dripping with need. I rolled my hips down onto his again, his hard cock pressed against my core with such force it caused me to moan. “You want it just as bad as I do. I can feel how hard you are.”

“Because you’re grinding on my cock like a desperate puppy.” He snapped back with slight annoyance from my tenacity as he gave me as little attention as possible.

I let out a whine as my head fell into his neck again, my lips leaving soft pecks against his delicate skin. “Please Buck.” I whimpered softly, my skin grazing his sweet spot as my body became weak with frustration.

“Whining isn’t going to make me any quicker, doll.” He tormented me with his words, his dominance only making me want him more. I wanted him to show me who was boss. To pin me down and fuck the attitude out of me.

“I need you.” I cried desperately, my palm rubbing along the bottom of his tummy as I rocked my hips again for any type of friction. “My pussy hurts so bad, Buck.”

“I know Sweetie, but you’re being impatient.” His words were understanding, yet so patronising at the same time. My juices had flooded my panties, dry humping his crotch no longer satisfying the ache. I needed to feel his big cock deep inside of me.

His hands held me still on his lap, causing me to bite down on his jaw in annoyance. “No.” I pouted childishly, unhappy with his actions - or lack there of.

“Hey, stop.” Bucky’s voice dropped an octave, the room falling silent as he grew serious. “Look at me.”

“Buck.” I whined his name with a pout, shy to lean back and look at him as my eyes fell to his lap.

His gaze trailed up and down my body, his metal hand lifting to my cheek to make me look at him.

“You need my cock that bad, baby?” He asked sweetly, his ego growing almost as big as his cock.

Even the thought of getting his thick, hard cock in me made my pussy tingle. I nodded softly, my hand tugging his shirt up enough to expose his abs.

Bucky watched closely, leaning back in the chair as I traced the pads of my fingers over his stomach admiringly, my breath shaky with anticipation.

“How ‘bout a kiss?” He asked softly, my eyes lighting up at the mere thought of such attention. Before Bucky could change his mind, I leaned up and pressed my lips against his.

I immediately whimpered, repeating the action. Bucky smiled against me, letting me peck his lips over and over without kissing me back.

“More.” I mumbled between kisses, my palm still flat against his exposed, warm tummy. I reached up to hold his shoulder with my free hand, balancing on top of him for a better angle.

He finally moved his lips against mine, his hands firmly on my hips as I relaxed into the kiss. Bucky’s cock was straining against the material of his pants, although he seemed unphased by his throbbing member.

I moaned loudly when his tongue flicked against my lip, parting them to allow him access.

But much to my disappointment, Bucky took his lips away from mine, tutting as he did so. “Such a greedy girl for me.” He growled through gritted teeth, cupping my face with his prosthetic palm as his thumb pressed against my lips.

I whimpered with a slight desperation, willing to do anything to get his cock. My mouth opened for Bucky who immediately took the hint, pushing his metal thumb into my mouth.

I hummed around the cold metal, my saliva soaking the digit as I made eye contact with him. Bucky’s pupils were blown out, his eyebrows formed a frown as he pressed his lips together tightly, using all of his willpower not to give in to my begging.

He watched as I swirled my tongue around his thumb, closing my eyes as I took him deeper. I let my hand slide down from his tummy to the waistband of his pants, trying not to smile deviously as I snuck beneath the material, my fingers tracing over his heavy cock.

Bucky reacted just as quickly, his thumb covered in my saliva left my mouth to rip my hand away from his member. “I said a kiss Doll, nothing more.” He growled animalistically, his metal hand squeezing my wrist so tight I thought it was going to break.

“Bucky, no.” I cried weakly, my head throwing back in defeat. I couldn’t take much more of his teasing, especially after feeling his throbbing member in my touch. I needed him inside me.

My chest rose and fell rapidly, on the brink of crying out of frustration. But Bucky wasn’t cracking, pulling my chest against his as he made me snuggle up against him.

I sighed softly as my eyes closed, the tapping of the computer keys let me know that he had well and truly gone back to his work. He used his metal arm to contain me now, knowing his flesh hand wasn’t going to cut it today, I was in a defiant mood.

“Doll if you’re that desperate why don’t you go get yourself off, hm?” He asked after a while of silence. I rolled my eyes, shuffling slightly to let my head rest against his shoulder comfortably.

“It’s not enough,” I huffed sassily, a pout clear on my face. “Your cock’s so big and hard.”

“Fine, you little brat.” He sighed in defeat, standing up with me still clinging to his body. He stepped forward, letting my ass rest on the desk as he angrily shoved a pile of paperwork onto the floor to give us more room. “You better be able to take all of me.”

I nodded eagerly in response, my legs widening for him instinctively as I leaned back on my palms. I watched Bucky’s eyes travel over my body, his flesh hand running over the bare skin of my thigh.

“You’ve made quite the mess of those pretty little panties, baby.” Bucky licked his lips with a smirk, his hand pushing the T-shirt up my body to completely expose my lower half to him. His fingers rubbed over the wet patch of my panties, the outline of my pussy lips evident.

“I told you I needed you.” I pouted in response, bucking my hips up at the feeling of his fingers on my core. He hooked the material of my panties with his finger, taking his time to slowly pull them down my legs.

I kicked them off the rest of the way once they’d gotten to my knees, my bare pussy glistening in the low glow of the office lights.

“Your juicy little pussy is just begging to be fucked, Princess.” Bucky grunted, his fingers pushing into my folds teasingly as my thighs tensed, heels of my feet digging into the desk.

His hands moved to slide up and down my thighs, his head coming down toward my centre. “I could just eat you up.” He mumbled just before his lips came into contact with my pussy.

I gasped loudly, my upper body falling back against the desk as his tongue licked a strip up my lower lips. “Bucky no,” I let out a defeated whine as my back arched off of the desk, my hand tugging his hair. “I want your cock not your tongue.”

Bucky growled deeply, his metal hand quickly moving to hold my throat down, keeping me against the desk as he hovered above me. “So fucking ungrateful today, baby.” He mumbled, his fingers squeezing harder around my throat.

My body began tingling at the pleasure coursing through my veins, his dominance and the attention I was getting gave me an enormous high.

I suddenly felt Bucky’s tip against my tight hole, my juices already drenching his cock. I gasped loudly at the feeling of finally getting what I wanted, Bucky’s breath hot in my ear as he tried to control himself.

“Such a selfish little brat.” He grunted, stretching my hole as he pushed his length inside me. I moaned at the familiar dull ache of my pussy trying to accommodate his size.

My hands dug into the muscles of his back, trying to distract myself from the pain. Bucky’s cock felt so good, it was just that getting my pussy to take him comfortably took some time.

“Don’t even care that I’ve got work to do,” Bucky turned his head toward me, kissing my lips softly as he shoved his whole length in me. “Just want to get your own way.”

Bucky started thrusting in and out of me, my body having no choice but to take his size. His metal hand stayed around my throat, his flesh one pulling my ass to the edge of the desk, impaling me on his cock.

“Oh, Bucky.” I whimpered, closing my eyes in pure extacy. My hand moved to grab his flesh bicep, trying desperately to steady myself as he made my body jolt with every thrust.

He smiled in amusement, his metal thumb rubbing my neck soothingly as he fucked me. Sounds of our bodies slapping together filled the room along with my little whimpers.

“This what you wanted baby?” He chuckled proudly before biting his lower lip. Bucky lowered his upper body, almost pressing against mine as his hot breath tickled my cheek. “Tell me.”

“Y-“ I panted out breathlessly, my thighs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. He was fucking into my cervix from this new angle, the pleasure too much for me to handle.

Bucky kept up his pace, little grunts leaving his lips as he dug his metal fingers into my throat. I could hear the whirring of his arm, his body moving with every thrust.

“I said tell me.” He moaned as my pussy clenched around him, my walls hugging his cock. His balls slapped against my ass, soaked in my wetness that was dripping onto the table.

I could hardly breathe from all the pleasure, Bucky’s chest pressing on mine didn’t make it any easier. My tits bounced beneath my shirt, rubbing against his chest. I tried to answer him, but my head was spinning so much I couldn’t think straight.

”Oh,” Bucky chuckled against my lips, his gorgeous eyes gazing down at me as I looked up at him. “Look at you baby.” He grunted, angling his hips to fuck me into the desk. “So fucked out you can’t even speak.”

“Buck.” I tugged on his hair, pulling his face down onto mine. I kissed him softly, Bucky’s hips stuttering as I sucked on his bottom lip.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked in a patronising voice, licking over my top lip before I bit down on his. “Did I fuck you silly, hm?”

I felt my pussy begin to pulsate as I looked up at him, his handsome face edging me to my climax. His pupils were blown out, his lips swollen and glossy.

Bucky knew I was close, slowing down his pace as he fucked deep into me. “Look at my dumb little Princess.” He teased, his flesh hand moving off of my hip to grab my thigh.

He cupped the underside of me knee, lifting my leg as high as it would go to rub his cock a different way. “So desperate to cum you can’t even form a sentence huh?”

My eyes closed again as a familiar pressure started to build in my lower tummy, signalling I was about to orgasm. I moaned out Bucky’s name, begging him to go faster.

“Is my stupid baby gunna take my cum like a good girl?” Bucky asked as his hand moved more toward my jaw than my throat, cupping my cheek to make me look at him.

I nodded innoncently, turning my head to the side and opening my mouth to suck on his metal thumb again. The taste of his bionic digit was something that never failed to turn me on.

I cried out in pleasure as a tingling sensation took over my pussy, the throbbing of my clit made me clench around his length. I sucked harder on his thumb as Bucky pushed his digit further into my mouth, saliva dripping down my cheek. “C’mon baby, cum on my cock.”

I gripped his metal forearm, unable to stop my hips from bucking up to meet his thrusts. The rough stubble on his lower belly rubbed against my clit, sending me over the edge.

“Fuck.” I moaned loudly as my back arched from the desk, both of Bucky’s hands moving down to my hips as he stood back up straight.

I desperately tried to cling to something as I rode out my high, my hands gripping at the edge of the desk behind my need. “That’s it, good girl.” He encouraged me in a grunt, his jaw clenching as he chased his own high.

My pussy pulsated around his cock erratically, causing his member to twitch inside of me. I came down from my high, my sensitive body jolting with his continuous hard thrusts.

I looked down at where our bodies connected, his thick cock disappearing inside of me. A sudden surge of adrenaline had me sitting up to get a better look, my arm wrapping around his neck as our chests pressed together.

Bucky’s eyes were screwed shut, his lips pressed together as he fucked himself into me hard. “I love the way you fuck me, Buck.” I whimpered softly as I pulled his head down, our lips colliding in a slow kiss.

“Yeah?” He asked sarcastically with a raise of his eyebrows, suddenly pulling his cock completely out of me.

Before I could protest, Bucky pulled me from the desk, making me stand in front of him. He spun me around, my back pressed against his chest. I could feel his hot cock against my ass.

“I’m gunna cum deep in this desperate little pussy.” He moaned into my ear, his stubble scratching my neck as his flesh hand rubbed over my ass.

“That’s what my greedy little cockslut wants, isn’t it baby?” Bucky continued, his metal hand lining his cock back up with my dripping core. “To have my cum deep inside of her.”

His flesh hand moved up to my shoulder, shoving me face down against the desk. He pushed his cock back inside of me, making me cry out a “yes” in response.

My overstimulated clit bashed against the desk with every thrust of his hips, his movements getting more erratic as he reached his high. I clenched around him consistently, desperate to get him to his orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky clung to my hips, smashing against me as his head dropped back, his jaw going slack as he felt his climax take over.

He let out a heavy breath, his hips shakily pressing against mine as his hot spurts of cum filled me up. I let out a satisfied hum as Bucky recovered from his high, pulling out once he’d gotten his breath back.

I stood up straight just before Bucky pulled me back into his arms, hugging my waist as he left a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Do you still have work to do?” I asked softly, still in a stage of euphoria that was clouding some of my senses. I leaned my head against Bucky’s chest, my hand on his metal arm.

Bucky snickered softly at my question. “I think you know the answer to that.” His voice was raspier than usual, his hair tossed and out of place. My heart sunk at the thought of him having to keep working. “But how about you come and keep my cock warm until I'm finished?”

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

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[wkemeup]

Vengeful Spirits┊By Any Other Name

summary: A year after the fire and the end of Hydra, Brock Rumlow's ghost is still haunting you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 10.7k warnings: PTSD symptoms, nightmares, canon level violence, angst angst angst!!, it's a revenge story babyyyy a/n: This is an alternative future that you can chose to include in your own version of BAON canon or consider as a 'what if' timeline. It was really fun to explore this side of the story and jump back into this world again so I hope you enjoy! ❤️

🌹 series masterlist <- catch up here first! 🌹

You couldn’t breathe beyond the stench of gasoline and cigar smoke. With wrists bound and tied to an old, wooden chair through frayed electrical wires, the exposed copper dug into your skin, leaving behind thin lines of ruined flesh in their wake. Blood dripped down your fingertips and onto the carpet at your feet. Tiny red dots marked into the pattern.

Along the walls, you could hardly make out the distorted image of near empty shelves, broken pots, and your books discarded amongst the soil and ruin. Pools of gasoline leaked into the hardwood floors, soaked into the pages of century old novels; ink bleeding through the paper.

“You are Hydra, baby!” Brock’s disembodied voice echoed throughout the room. You flinched at the sound as if it could cut through as sharp as the wires on your wrists. Your eyes scanned the room to find it empty, and still, his voice lingered down the aisles of your library, his presence haunting you.

“No,” you choked out, throat closing under the weight of the lump building there. Tears pressed against your cheeks. Gasoline burned in your nose.

A figure emerged from the shadows – a faint outline of the man you married, the man you despised, his face hidden by the darkness clouding around him. Still, you could smell the liquor on his breath – always on his breath.

“You are not worthy of redemption.”

You tugged at the bindings on your wrists, adrenaline thunderous in your heart. You wondered if it might push past your chest and spill out onto your lap. If your blood would meet the gasoline at your feet and blend into one.

“Stop it,” you warned, though the fear was evident in your voice.

Brock did not relent as he stepped forward, the shadows clinging so tight to his body you could not make out his face. “You are and always will be Hydra to those feds...”

A sob broke through you as he approached. You had no will to fight, no source of strength to draw upon. All you could feel was the blinding terror coursing deep into your veins with his every step; with each squeak of the floor boards, with every footprint coated in potted soil and gasoline. The cigar hung loosely at his fingertips, ready to set fire to the room around you.

Brock parted his lips, his voice slippery as a viper, “...and they will leave you to BURN!”

His hands slammed down on your wrists, his face only inches away. Your heart stopped beating; eyes blown wide. A single touch of moonlight broke through the shadows on Brock’s face and what remained was a glimpse of horror. Charred skin, ruined flesh. Raw and red and bubbling at the surface. Blistered and oozing.

The mutilated scars around his lips slithered into a sickening grin, his breath hot as flame against your skin. He dropped the cigar. The room went up in smoke. In flame and fire and fury.

A world away, you jolted forward, throat raw and aching, surrounded by the cold embrace of a dark room. It took a moment before you realized that terrible, agonizing sound was your own voice – screaming. You could only vaguely hear your name called, the gentle touch of a hand running lines over your spine. The same hands that guided yours to feel for the silky sheets covering you, to the cotton of your t-shirt, to the steady thump of a heartbeat over an exposed chest beside you.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” the voice eased again. The contrast of it – the kindness and the patience laced in the words – tugged you away from the nightmare you’d escaped from. You followed his request and slowly forced air into your lungs. “Good, honey. One more, okay?”

You nodded, doing as he asked.

Pushing past the haze over your vision, you looked around the room to find the familiar ripple of curtains over the window, the pile of laundry in the corner, your Columbia badge hanging over the doorknob, Bucky’s FBI jacket slung over the armchair.

You gasped. Bucky.

Sure enough, propped up on his elbow beside you, was Bucky Barnes. He wore that same glimpse of a smile you fell in love with but it held a heaviness in it, a sadness. The sheet sat bunched at his waist, exposing his bare chest and the scars littering his skin. Your eyes drew to the mark on his shoulder, the one you were responsible for. It raised pink against his tanned skin, healed over in the last year but still visible. Still a reminder.

“You alright?” Bucky asked slowly. His hand was cautious as he reached out for you. Slow in his movements under your gaze, so that you might have the chance to pull away if you wanted to. You held steady, relief washing through your body as his hand circled around yours.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure whether it was entirely true. Bucky didn’t press you on it as he gathered you in his arms and slowly pulled you down into his embrace. He tugged the covers back up around you, holding you as you stole a glance at the clock beyond his shoulder. You only had a few hours left before the alarm would wake you for work. You didn’t expect to get anymore sleep tonight, but it was a comfort at least to know you had time to lay soundly in Bucky’s arms before morning and responsibility took him away.

“It was Brock again,” you mumbled against his chest. “The library.”

Bucky tensed. This particular brand of nightmare had been plaguing you for weeks now. It had been almost a year now since the fire but the horrors of what you endured that night had yet to leave you. They started with vivid images of Bucky’s body bleeding out in the warehouse, the bullet you shot into his shoulder finding a new home between his eyes or buried into his chest. They centered around Brock hulling Peter into his warpath and leaving him tied and bound to the flames alongside you. But lately, your mind was particularly cruel.

Brock haunted you – taunted you. His ghost made you doubt whether you were ever really safe from him at all, if he was still lurking in the shadows, if his hand could slither out from the darkness and grip tight to your neck and drag you back to his hell. They never found a body within the flames and despite Bucky’s reassurances that he put enough bullets in the man to make sure he never took another breath, it didn’t sway your fears.

“I hate that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” Bucky sighed through his teeth, his grip on you holding a little tighter.

“You did everything you could. You still saved me,” you told him. Still, he carried his guilt. You could feel his fingertips run over the faded burn marks on your skin. Bumps and edges over what used to be smooth and soft. He saw them as reminders of his failings despite your pleas against it.

“I should have killed him long before then.” There was no waver in his voice. He shifted under the covers, his lips pressing sweetly to your forehead in contrast to the malice in his voice for the monster who used to share your bed.

“You were trying to do the right thing by bringing him in. Doing what you do, you don’t have a choice but to believe in the system. With all the monsters you’ve put away over the years, you should believe in it but... we both know Brock was never going to tolerate a cage.” You clung a little tighter to Bucky’s chest, settling against the steady beat of his heart.

Bucky’s response was only to curl his arm around you, holding you as close as he could manage. His lips did not leave the crown of your head. You stayed there with him, curled in his embrace, listening to his heartbeat, until the sun rose beyond the mood and light beckoned you to a new day.

***

You were standing in the kitchen washing the dishes when you saw him.

You were walking through the practice your therapist explained for dealing with your nightmares. You closed your eyes and pictured the library, the wires on your wrists, the very beginning and the start of it all. But instead of Brock emerging from the shadows, you conjured Bucky. You imagined Bucky rushing through the doors, freeing you from your chains, hulling you up into his arms and whisking you away from harm. You concentrated on every detail in his face, on the dried blood you remembered he wore along his cheek, on the open scars from Brock’s rings, on the look of relief upon his face because he found you. He found you and he saved you before the flames could take hold. He carried you away from the room that had once been your sanctuary, now only reserved for your nightmares. You held onto that version of the story with all you had.

Sometimes, it helped. Other nights, you still woke up screaming and drenched in sweat. But Bucky was there and he never showed an ounce of anything but the love and patience he swore to you. He’d hold you until your heart settled and you stopped fearing the image of Brock’s burned face when you closed your eyes. Encompassed with Bucky, it was hard to think of anyone else.

Peter was sweeping up the stray shredded cheese that had found its way to the floor in the midst of another taco night. Cheddar, your sweet orange tabby, had little interest in his namesake and was purring soundingly on the armrest of the couch. Bucky had slipped out to the corner store to pick up a few tubs of ice cream in preparation for the movie Peter had been dying to see for weeks now.

All it took was a single glance to the window for the ground to vanish under your feet.

You could only vaguely catch the sound of broken glass as it shattered, the dinner plate in shards near your bare feet. Peter rushed towards you but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. No – your focus was stolen by the figure standing beyond the darkness, hanging within the shadows.

You knew that outline. You knew that face. You’d seen it in your dreams – your nightmares – for almost a year. Disfigured and burned. But still, covered in shadows like a monster within a child’s closet. Not close enough to see details of his vicious smirk but real enough to set terror into your veins.

Peter was yanking on your arm, his voice louder now. You couldn’t move. You were stone.

“Y/n?” Bucky called the second the door swung open, the paper bag quickly discarded on the floor. The panic was etched into his voice, the same way it had been in the months after the fire when you lost yourself to brief moments of fear, when the memory of his cover you’d known as James was all that could bring you back.

He rushed in front of you, obstructing your view of the window and snapping you from your trance. His hands were on your cheeks, his eyes quickly glancing down at the shards of glass by your feet. You could feel him trying to delicately usher you away before you cut yourself, but you couldn’t let the monster escape a second time.

“It’s Brock,” you exhaled, trying to peer around Bucky’s shoulder for another look. “He’s here. I—I saw him! Outside!”

Bucky swung his attention to the window, still holding on tight to you. But when you looked again, the darkness was all that remained. No figures hidden in the shadows. No one lying in wait, taunting you. The monster had vanished in thin air.

“Sweetheart... he’s dead,” Bucky eased. “He can’t hurt you.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You tried to ignore the concerned look that flashed between Bucky and Peter, how their expressions of panic quickly turned to ones of pain, of aching sadness, of pity.

“N-No, I saw him! I swear I did, James,” you argued, pushing past him and rushing out towards the window in search of what you saw. Bucky hissed as you barely cleared the broken glass in your path, though he followed you without question. “I saw him. He was looking right at me!”

Bucky indulged you by taking another look out to the empty sidewalk behind the brownstone you shared together. It was quiet where you lived, away from the rush of the city and the tourists and late-night drinkers. All that remained was the faint buzz of the streetlamp at the end of the block and an elderly couple taking their usual evening stroll. They raised a hand in greeting as they spotted the two of you looking out the window. Bucky forced a smile and returned the gesture.

“There’s no one there, honey,” Bucky tried again, urging you to look for yourself. “Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you. You know how hard nights have been lately...”

You shook your head. “I-- I know what I saw, James. I’m not—I'm not crazy.”

His face softened. Slowly his hand moved to cup at your cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to form. “I know. I know that, love.”

It hadn’t slipped your notice that it was the second time you called him James. A name that held enormous meaning to you, a name you had promised to leave in the past in favor of the man standing in front of you. Bucky – the undercover FBI agent who saved you from the prison you’d been living in. James – the enforcer to an evil organization who taught you how to love again. One in the same. And still, sometimes calling upon the version of the man who had provided the first sense of safety you’d felt in years, was all that kept you from falling apart.

You stole a glance back to the window as Bucky wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his chest. It was the same sidewalk you were familiar with, no sinister creatures lingering in the shadows. It's possible you had imagined it. You were focused on rewriting your nightmares...

“Should I head home? Let you rest?” Peter’s voice nervously called from the kitchen. He set the broom back in the closet, already having cleaned up the glass from the broken plate.

You shook your head, wiping tears against Bucky’s shirt. “No, please stay. Let’s watch that movie, okay? I’m alright.”

You forced a smile though the redness in your eyes. You felt Bucky’s hand settle against your back, his fingertips soothing small circles into your spine. His scent calming you as you listened for the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“You sure?” Peter stepped forward, that sweet hopeful look on his face though a hesitancy remained in his eyes. He wasn’t convinced of your word.

“Yes.” You hugged Bucky’s waist, tugging him to the couch. “I think I must have... I don’t know... I was seeing things, I guess.”

Nightmares bleeding into the daytime. Natasha had warned you about that early on. Enduring the type of trauma you did, surviving a home with invisible bars and nearly losing your life to it... it was bound to follow you. Bucky understood how you carried it still and he didn’t shy away in fear of it. You tried to find strength in that, in his unending loyalty and patience. You trusted his word above everything else.

Brock was dead. Four shots to the chest. The fire took his body.

It had to be true.

No—It was true.

And yet, the doubt scratched its nails along the windowpane, begging to be let in.

***

“Hey, I’m not saying that I’m a better actor than Barnes, but I’m not not saying that.” Sam Wilson picked up an apple from the pile and tossed it into the air before take a huge bite out of the center. The juice of it dripped down the edges of grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he handed the vendor a dollar for Sam’s snack. You giggled against Bucky’s side as he slid his hand back into his pocket. He was trying to hide his laugh through a bite in his lip, but you could see past it enough to catch the slight lift in his cheeks.

“I’d say he was a pretty good actor,” you smirked. “Fooled me, didn’t he?”

Your arms were snaked around Bucky’s, holding him against your chest as you weaved in and around the busy famers’ market, so you felt it when his body tensed. That guilt complex of his couldn’t take a little teasing, though you tried.

“If he could make me fall in love with a,” you paused, lowering your voice, “Hydra hitman,” you grinned, swatting Bucky in the arm, “then I think he’s a damn good actor.”

“Alright, damn, I concede!” Sam threw his arms in the air, smiling so wide you wondered if it might touch his ears.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” Bucky snickered, leaning into your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips grazing over your hair as you felt the soft brush of his laugh.

“Hush.” You snuck up and stole a kiss from his lips. It was a wonder to be able to kiss him in the open like this, surrounded by people who had little time or patience to care for the strangers standing in love at the center of a busy famers’ market. It was surreal at times, feeling like you were lost in a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But he was real and perfect and wonderful and so incredibly yours.

“Oh! Wait, I forgot the desserts for Peter!” you pulled back quickly, glancing into the busy crowd in search of the vendor with the fresh displays of apple tarts. You’d been meaning to pick one up for Peter after he got his first acceptance letter to college. They’ve been rolling in lately and piling high enough to cover Aunt May’s kitchen table, but you did promise him a new tart for every acceptance and you were about three behind.

“Go,” Bucky laughed, shaking you from his arm playfully. “I’ll babysit Sam until you get back.”

You grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek you knew Sam would mock him for the second you disappeared into the crowd. The glossy imprint of your lips against his stubble was your favorite look on him, and he didn’t much mind it himself.

Shoulders bumped into yours as you squeezed through the rush of tourists and locals browsing the fresh fruits and vegetables displays along the tents. You turned the corner at the smell of cooked apples, cinnamon, and butter. Your stomach started to growl as you approached the vendor: a charming, older man with a twisted grey mustache and a flat cap.

“What can I get for you, hun?” he grinned, hands setting on his round stomach. Flour was still dusted along his apron, little bits of crumbs on his cheeks.

“Oh, I think I’d like—” You paused, catching a glimpse of something unsettling over the man's shoulder. Just a shadow, at first, blocked by the busy hustle of people walking by. You shook your head, tearing your eyes away and forcing your attention back to the vender. He offered you an uneasy smile. “The, um, the apple tart, please. And two of the—of the—”

You lost your trail of thought as the figure appeared again. Covered in darkness amongst a busy, sunny coated street. But he stood completely still, a baseball cap obstructing most of his face, though you could feel his eyes on you. You froze as he slowly lifted a hand, the flesh of it marred and blistered, and he tilted the lid of his cap.

“No. No, that’s not—He's not—” Your breathing was coming in too fast. The distorted image from your nightmares was standing mere feet away; a monster wearing a man’s skin and even that was ruined and burned.

Your dead husband stared back at you, that sickening grin curling up on his face. Your hands were shaking so violently you could hardly grasp the dollar bills as you fumbled with your wallet.

“Miss? Are you alright, deary?” the vendor called, extending a hand towards you but you had already backed out of his reach. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Brock, from the burns on his skin or the murderous look in his stare; the gleeful expression of anticipated revenge. You were stone and marble and ice until—he stepped forward.

“James!” you screamed, leaving behind the money and the pastries as you sprinted in the opposite direction; shoving your way through the crowd, but it felt like you were swimming against the full force of a current. Your legs were shaking, your heart threatening to burst from your chest. You didn’t dare a glimpse over your shoulder to see how close Brock was behind you. “JAMES!”

You barely registered as you slammed into Bucky’s chest. Tears soaked quickly into his shirt, your sobs loud and breaking as he desperately tried to settle you. There was no space to pull you off to the side, no comfort from the busy crowd around you. You clawed at him, terrified you couldn’t get close enough, desperate to hide from your husband, from his vendetta, to protect Bucky from his wrath and—

“Y/n! Y/n, look at me!” Bucky begged, taking a tenser hold of you than he ever intended to use and forced you to meet his eye. The sting of his grip was all that punctured through the terror. You met the sharp blue of Bucky’s eyes, his brows furrowed in concern, worry lines along his forehead. “What happened?”

“It’s Brock! He’s here!” you sobbed, desperately clinging to Bucky as you gestured behind you, certain your ex-husband would emerge from the crowd at any second. “He found us. He found us! Oh God, James— he’s going to—”

“Stay with her,” Bucky ordered to Sam and he began prying your grip from around his waist.

“No! Don’t go!” You felt like a child; small and fearful and terrified beyond belief. But Bucky had that look in his eye, one that warned of danger in his path should anyone dare to cross him. You'd only seen it once – when he was on his knees in the warehouse, at the mercy of your ex-husband.

“Sam!” Bucky warned.

“I’ve got you, kid,” Sam eased the best he could. Bucky kissed your hairline before he rushed back into the crowd in search of Brock. You didn’t dare watch until he disappeared amongst the sea of people. Instead, you clung onto Sam as if he might be the only thing keeping you afloat. Maybe he was.

It was only when your breathing began to slow again with every count of Sam’s deep inhales that you started to notice the whispers around you, how the strangers eyed you and walked a little quicker as they passed by. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were bold enough to hold your gaze as they whispered into the ears of their friends. Pity laced smiles at the crazy women sobbing at the center of the market.

Then, you heard footsteps come to a steady halt behind you. Sam released you from his hold and you turned to find Bucky waiting for you. He opened his arms and you rushed in.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, apologies for tearing himself from you. It was not one he needed to make, but you nodded anyway.

“Did you find him?” you dared to ask.

When you were met with silence, your heart sank. As you glanced up you caught that same look of concern Bucky had given Peter the first time you saw Brock through the window of your apartment days earlier. Now, he shared it with Sam.

Bucky clenched his jaw, his blue eyes swimming in remorse. “Sweetheart, I—”

“Oh God... I’m going crazy. Aren’t I?” you gasped, tears filling your eyes to the point where you could no longer see the look of agony on Bucky’s face and, maybe, that was for the best. You could only vaguely hear Sam as he ushered the onlookers away, flashing his badge and grumbling angrily under his breath at the tourists who dared to sit in observation of your worst fears.

“It’s okay, honey,” Bucky eased with loving, tender kisses to your shoulder. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

He repeated it on an endless loop. Constant reassurances. Gentle reminders. You could hear the concern etched into his voice, the fear he shared with Sam, the doubt of whether his love was enough to save you from the horrors Rumlow left behind.

***

“You don’t have to stay the night, Sam,” you tried again for the third time that evening. “Please, I don’t want to inconvenience you just because I’m apparently losing my mind.”

“Are you kidding?” Sam smirked, shaking out the long, teal sheet before he laid it onto the couch. “I insist. Plus, it gives me an excuse to guilt Barnes into going easy on me at the annual field test.”

“You’re a good man, Sam,” you exhaled, arms folded tight over your chest. Your gaze drifted to the windows and the dark overcast hanging along the sidewalk. There was only a moment of relief in the emptiness you found in wait.

“Careful, sweetheart, you’ll inflate his ego.”

You turned to find Bucky leaning against the wall behind you, watching your interaction with Sam. He shook his head, a smiling brimming on his face as he approached. His arm swung casually around your shoulders, tugging you to his side before he pressed a short kiss to your hairline.

“Listen,” Bucky started, a more serious tone in his voice, “I appreciate you coming out here last minute. I didn’t feel right leaving her on her own after what happened at the market this morning.”

Sam softened, his teasing grin turning gentle into a thin line. “She’s family, right?” He winked at you, tugging a smile back to your face. “Go find out what Fury wants. I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.”

“And I’ll just be asleep anyway,” you added, though you wondered if Bucky could hear the uncertainty in your voice. You weren’t sure you’d be able to get much of any sleep at all while he was gone, but it helped to ease your mind knowing Sam wasn’t too far away. Even if your mind was playing games with you, the safety of having at least one federal agent in the apartment was a relief.

Still – Bucky’s jaw clenched as he nodded. He was better at reading you than you gave him credit for. He turned you gently in his arms to face him, a finger tilting at the bottom of your chin to hold your gaze.

“I promise I won’t be long. I’m sure Fury just has a new vision for recruit training he wants to run by me and that man’s schedule waits for no one,” Bucky chuckled, trying to sway your tension. It didn’t do much to etch the stone from your muscle, but you gave him a smile. It was enough. He sighed, pressing out one in return though it held a heaviness in it. “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow, alright? Bruce is a good man, Y/n. He’ll know how to help you.”

You nodded, holding your breath at the mention of the doctor. He was a trained psychiatrist who specialized in PTSD and had worked with the Bureau for years. You figured most of his work was done with the men and women who worked alongside Bucky and Sam, but he knew his way around trauma and the dangerous monsters it carried. He could help, you told yourself. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t going to lose Bucky to this.

“I love you,” Bucky said quietly, though it held a certainty to it that pieced together the frayed edges in your stomach, the doubt and fears that lingered there. It was as if he could read the fears on your face and put them at ease before they could take root as he said, “we’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, pressing your face to his chest. You took a final inhale of his scent, holding it as close as you could manage, before you let go. “I love you, too.”

You tried not to linger in the hallway after that. The apartment felt too big without Bucky around and though Sam did his best to draw out your smile, the exhaustion from the market had drained you. Your head was buzzing, your mind unfocused. Sam had noticed pretty quickly when you started to zone out, eyes fixated on the wall behind his shoulder, and he gently eased you to your room.

“I’ll be right out here you need anything, okay?” Sam reminded you with a soft tap on the edge of your door.

“Thank you, Sam.” You weren’t sure how to apologize for the events at the market, how you’d clung to him and sobbed, terrified that your dead husband was following you. You didn’t dare allow yourself to imagine what he must have thought of you in that moment. Still, the warm color of Sam’s eyes and the sincerity of his smile were enough to sway those thoughts a little while longer.

Then, you were alone.

You pulled the blankets up to your chin, curling against the side of the bed Bucky slept on. You could still smell the faint scent of his shampoo on the pillow. You tugged it against your chest, holding it as if it were an extension of him.

This helpless feeling was not one you were used to. Not anymore.

You couldn’t remember feeling this afraid even when you were living under Brock’s roof. Part of you wondered whether the risk of losing the security and safety and comfort you’d gained in his death was what fed into your fears and accelerated their momentum. When you were married to Brock and complicit to Hydra, you had little to lose, little to gain. You were able to go through the motions and survive.

But now?

Now you had something worth living for. Now, you had Bucky. You had your job back, your friends. You had Sam and Natasha and Steve. You had Peter and May. You had the light of day and freedom and love.

The very thought of it being stolen from you scared you far more than Brock ever could. And still, it was his face that haunted you. It was his face in your nightmares and following your shadows.

You kept your focus on the closed door to your bedroom, watching the flickering of the television light between the cracks and listening for Sam’s muffled laugh through the walls. You waited and waited and hoped that Bucky would return before the demons came for you, but sleep swept you away in luring embrace.

***

You woke suddenly to the sound of muffled gunfire. Jolting up in your bed, you clutched at the sheets, at your pajamas, at your hair, wiping the sweat from your skin. Your hand settled against your heart, trying to focus on the rhythm, but it was too fast. It wasn’t the steady, reassuring pace that Bucky carried. You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Just a dream, you told yourself. It was just a dream. It can't hurt you.

You turned to the door to find the light from the television still sliding through the edges. Sam must have forgotten to turn it off before he fell asleep. He was known for his love of old detective dramas. The gunshot from the show must have lingered into your dreams.

You slumped back into the bed, heart still pounding. Beyond the door, you could hear the creek of the floorboards under heavy steps. Maybe Sam was still awake. There were plenty of snacks in your pantry and he had teased Bucky mercilessly about eating all of his cheese puffs. The thought helped to ease the panic from your veins as you forced yourself to close your eyes.

Bucky will be home soon. Go to sleep. You’re fine.

But then the footsteps inched closer. They paused right outside the door, their silhouette blocking the stream of light from the television. You rubbed at your eyes.

“Sam?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, the knob began to turn. Slow. The hinges of the door crying as it crept open. The sudden influx of light was harsh against your eyes, forcing you to squeeze them shut. His face was shielded by the backdrop of light and the blur in your eyes. Whether it was from exhaustion or leftover tears from your dreams, you weren’t sure.

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

Again, nothing.

There was something wrong in his movements. He was too stiff, too quiet. He looked like something out of your nightmares – cold, sinister, calculating. The room shifted around you; the safety you’d known in its walls peeled back by the edges of sharp, unyielding claws. Whatever crept towards you in the shadows was not Sam Wilson.

You stared at the figure as it approached, suddenly terrified to take your eyes off of it. Your vision began to burn, unable to so much as blink in fear of what the creature would do. Beyond the door, you heard a faint groaning, nails scraping along the floorboards. Your name was called in a familiar voice, panicked but faded, weak.

The figure lowered his hood.

“It’s good to see you again, baby.”

“No.” You scrambled backwards on the bed, shifting as far away from the distorted figure as you could manage. Your hands were shaking as you brought them to your lips. “No-- This isn’t-- This isn’t real.”

But Brock Rumlow stepped forward into the light and began to laugh. When his hand gripped at your wrist, you felt the nails dig into your skin. You gagged against the harsh burn of liquor and raw flesh. The adrenaline that rushed into your veins was visceral and agonizing – it burned as deep as the flames in your dreams.

Something pinched at your neck as your movements began to slow, your vision doubling. A syringe was in Brock’s hand as he stepped back, watching as you struggled to maintain consciousness.

“It’s... it’s not real,” you murmured again, trying to convince yourself beyond what your mind already knew to be true as you stared down the figure of your ex-husband.

And still, he laughed. It was the last thing you heard before the darkness caved in.

***

Bucky paced along the hallway outside of Director Fury’s office. It had been over an hour since he arrived and Fury had yet to see him. His message had indicated that it was a time sensitive issue. It was the only reason he begrudgingly agreed to leave you alone for the night after what happened in the market. Sam was with you, Bucky reminded himself as he ran a hair through the roots of his hair. You weren’t alone.

Then, when Bucky was about ready to barge his way into Fury’s office, the door opened. Agent Hill walked out carrying a half dozen folders in her arms, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors as she passed by. She seemed surprised to see Bucky waiting, but still, she made a short gesture to let him know the director was free.

“Sir,” Bucky started, stepping into the office. “You asked to see me?”

Fury was standing with his back to the door, facing out to the open windows and the bright lights of the city. Slowly, he turned over his shoulder, eyeing Bucky suspiciously. He took a step forward; his unnerving silence proving a bit too much for Bucky’s present impatience.

“Sir, I don’t mean to press,” Bucky exhaled, “but it’s been a rough day and I’d like to get back home as soon as I--”

“What makes you think I want to see you, Barnes?” Fury scoffed, settling into his desk. He popped the lid off the bottle of bourbon he kept hidden in the bottom drawer. Bourbon poured into the crystalline glass.

“You paged me two hours ago, sir,” Bucky said, setting the small flip phone on the desk. It was the only device Fury had agreed to use to call in his agents when needed; even if Bucky’s latest missions were held behind a desk or on the training field with the new recruits.

Fury cast his single eye at the phone, narrowing on the last message received. He read it over twice before he tossed the phone back to Bucky. He shrugged.

“I didn’t send you that message.”

Bucky froze, the phone feeling heavy within his grasp. “Sir?”

“Our message system was hacked several hours ago,” Fury said. He leaned in over the desk, studying Bucky through a less than unsettling gaze. “That’s why I called Maria in. I don’t know who sent you that message, but it wasn’t us.”

Bucky read over the message again. It was in the same cadence Fury always used in his messages, the same phrasing. HQ meeting 1hr. Short. To the point.

“Why would someone want to lure you back to base, Agent Barnes?” Fury inquired, leaning back into his chair, but Bucky could only vaguely hear what he had said. He was too busy staring at the phone, his grip clenching so tight around the edges he might snap it in half. His heart was pounding so loud, it muffled in his own ears. He could hear the rush of his blood through his veins.

Because he realized in that moment the message had little to do with luring him back to base. No – the sender had a much more terrifying purpose in mind.

To get you alone.

***

“Y/n!”

By the time Bucky made it back to the apartment, he was drenched in sweat. It soaked through his white button down, leaving the material transparent and wet, clinging against his chest. His hands were shaking as he struggled to get the key into the lock, fumbling over it several times before he shouldered his way inside.

His stomach dropped at the first sight of blood.

“Sam!” Bucky sprinted across the room, dropping down hard on his knees and into the expanding pool of crimson red soaking into the cracks of the floorboards. Sam was laid on his stomach, hands outstretched as if he had been crawling. A streak of smeared blood was in his wake. He’d been trying to reach the bedroom before his body gave out.

With shaking hands, Bucky rolled his friend onto his back, desperately searching for damage.

It was then he found the bullet wound embedded in Sam’s stomach. Bucky tore a glance back to the bedroom as he pressed his hands to the wound, stopping the bleeding the best he could.

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted again, desperate for you to appear from behind a locked door, unharmed. But there was no response in his echo. You did not call his name or any other.

“I’m s-sorry, Buck,” Sam’s weakened voice jarred Bucky from his trance. He looked down to find Sam’s eyes on him, though they were heavy, barely focused. Sam’s hand curled around Bucky's wrist. “S-She’s gone. He took her. I... I tried to—”

“I know, buddy,” Bucky eased, his voice breaking in the effort. “I know. It's okay. Save your strength, alright?”

As quickly as he could, Bucky dialed Steve’s number. He didn’t have the energy or the willpower to explain what happened, but he managed to order for an ambulance – one that would ram its way through New York traffic if it had to. Steve confirmed he was on his way and Natasha would be shortly behind. No questions asked.

“Buck,” Sam choked out, blood dripping at his lips. “Tell Y/n I’m--”

“I’m not telling her shit, okay? You tell her when—” Bucky clenched his jaw, tears slipping down past his cheeks, “You tell her when I get her back.”

***

It felt like an eternity before Steve and the ambulance arrived. Sam had faded in and out of consciousness enough times to make Bucky question if he would ever hear his friend ruthlessly tease him again. Still, in every waking moment, Sam did his best describe the intruder. There were few jokes, little smiles; he nearly drowned in his own blood before he could finish.

Sam couldn’t offer any more details beyond the hooded figure that had taken him by surprise. Bucky couldn’t tell if it was Sam’s delirium, but the description he gave sounded like something constructed of nightmares. He described a monster.

He was passed out by the time Steve arrived.

Bucky fell back onto the floor as the paramedics took over. He could only vaguely register Steve’s hands grip tight around his biceps and hulling him up to his feet long after the sirens had faded away and all that remained on the floor before him was the faint outline of Sam’s body. He tried not to pay attention to the blood coating his hands and soaking into his shirt. Sam’s blood. Blood he spilled trying to protect you. A task Bucky had requested.

“I’ve got footprints,” Natasha’s voice called from the hallway. Steve ushered Bucky to follow, though he felt like he was still stuck in a trance. None of it felt real, even as Natasha kneeled to more closely examine the imprint of the shoe outlined in blood.

“What happened here, Buck?” Steve asked, though he knew there was no good answer.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I—I can’t do this again, Steve. I can’t lose her—I can’t—”

A flash of gold caught his eye. Bucky followed the reflection into the bedroom, almost in a trance. He stilled as he approached the bed, finding a small, gold ring sitting just on the edge of the mattress. Thick. Rusting. An emblem of a skull at its center, surrounded by six long tentacles.

Slowly, he picked up the ring, holding it in the palm of his hand. The tears had faded on his cheeks, replaced only by the cold burn of vengeance growing like fire through his veins. He shoved the ring into Steve’s hands as he approached, answering the question before he had a chance to ask.

Bucky moved on a warpath to the safe. He wasted little time in loading his handgun and slipping it to his waist. A second followed and he strapped it to his thigh. When he stood again, Natasha and Steve were watching silently.

“You going to stop me?” Bucky questioned, a cold determination icing his voice.

“I didn’t last time,” Steve confirmed, stepping back.

Bucky gave him a short nod as he passed by. He didn’t bother with a coat.

“Hey Barnes,” Natasha called just as he opened the front door. He paused for only a moment, a short glance over his shoulder as she approached, her expression as cold and calculating as his own. “Make sure he’s dead this time.”

***

When you woke, you tried to feel for the cool silk of your bedroom sheets. You searched for the comfort of the warm body beside you and the gentle thumping of an easy heart. You sought out the slight dip of the mattress and the brush of air from the fan overhead. Instead, you found your hands were restrained behind you, the skin burned under thick ropes.

You sat up slowly in effort to ease through the blinding headache dizzying your vision. Dirt was caked into your nails and brushed along your skin, grass below your exposed legs. Still in your pajamas, you felt the sting of a twig as it scratched your thigh.

It took a moment before you recognized your surroundings. Away from the comfort of Brooklyn, you realized you were immersed in acres of woods. To your right, just barely through a short clearing, your heart dropped at the sight of ruined remains of a home you had lived in for years. Most of it had been bulldozed away after the fire, but pieces still remained. Enough that you still recognized the proximity to your nightmares.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, baby.”

You flinched at the sound of his voice – Brock's voice – as he stepped out from the shadows. No longer shielded by the distorted visions in your dreams or the promise of safety under the guise of a twisted imagination, there was little doubt that the man who stood in front of you was anything other than the head of Hydra itself.

“Takes a while to get used to, doesn’t it?” he scoffed, gesturing to the burns coating his skin. He was almost unrecognizable; the darkly handsome features on his face obstructed in the fire. What remained instead was a glimpse of the evil he carried in his heart, a sickening display of karma unfolding upon his body and mocking his existence.

You couldn’t help the laugh as it escaped. Perhaps it was shock or maybe you really were losing your mind, but the falter in Brock’s expression was reward enough. He was expecting you to remain in your fear of him, to be able to hold it over you. Your laughter was not what he had been anticipating and it read clear as day upon his face.

“It’s what you deserve,” you spat, tugging at the ropes around your wrists as you rose to your knees. Tiny stones dug into your skin but you urged yourself to feel power in the sting of it. To let it ground you to your strength and remind you of what was real.

“Deserve?” Brock hissed, his upper lip twitching. Anger twisted and consumed the little parts of his expression he still had control over. “You want to talk about what is deserved?!”

You tried not to react when he pulled a handgun from his waist and cocked it. The barrel of it aimed at your head, his finger on the trigger. You tried to keep the cold, uncaring expression Bucky had worn that night in the factory – unafraid in the face of evil. He’d been on his knees then, too. But still—your jaw clenched and Brock grinned.

“How is it that my cheating, whore of a wife and the traitorous son of a bitch who destroyed everything I ever built get to live happily ever after?!” Brock sneered, crouching down to your eye line. He drew the edge of the barrel along your cheekbone, sliding it down your throat, though you tried to pull away. He grinned. “You want to talk about what is deserved? Huh? How about I take back what belongs to me?”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to meet his eye. Instead, you kept your stare on the tree beyond his left shoulder, the one you could see from the window of the spare bedroom you moved into after you gained the courage to fall in love with James— with Bucky. Its trunk was charred in the fire but it still stood. It still remained. Worn, but still strong.

“Maybe, I keep my promise to our mutual friend? Barnes, isn’t it?” Brock taunted. He used the barrel of the gun to brush your hair behind your shoulder. This close you could see the divots and raised edges of his burns. They coated every inch of his skin. “I told him he’d find you in pieces one day. That his betrayal would follow him the rest of his life and I’d rip you apart just to spite him. But hell, I didn't forget about the part you played either, baby. Maybe I’d like to ruin you a little too... just for myself.”

The barrel traveled alone your collarbone, dipping down to your chest, drawing a line between your breasts and down to your navel. Even through the scarring, you could see the look upon his face – the grin as he licked his lips.

You gritted your teeth. “Fuck you.”

Brock laughed at that, deep and low. Sinister. He wiped away the spit that had landed against his cheek. “I like it when you're feisty.”

You felt for the ground behind you; wrists bound you brushed your fingertips along the grass until you came upon a small rock. A small ounce of relief nestled into your chest; the rest filled with a steady determination. You started to saw it against the ropes.

“How the hell are you even alive? You should be dead,” you said in an effort to keep Brock talking. You could only hope Bucky was on his way to you, if he even knew where you were.

Time was a commodity you didn’t have, but you could stall as long as you could. Maybe... Maybe you’d see him again. It was what kept you going, what gave you the courage to face your demon standing before you.

“Four bullets to the chest and a burning house later, here I am... rising like a fucking phoenix from the ashes!” Brock shouted up to the skies. He stretched his arms out to the side as if he were absorbing the cheers from a stadium worth of admirers. “I’m invincible, baby! You can’t kill me!”

“You're not special, Brock. You’ll die like any other man,” you spat, reveling in the slight shift in his smile. The rock broke through a single piece of twine; a small dent, but it was something. “James will find us and when he does, he’ll kill you.”

Brock’s face dropped to a cold frown. “Not if I kill him first.”

“Would that make you feel like a man?” you jeered, like poking a snarling bear with a short, pointed stick. “To kill the man I left you for? The man I fucked in your house? The man I traded a mansion and millions for just to escape you?”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I—”

“What?” you taunted, shouting out to the trees and the birds and whatever else could hear you amongst the woods. “What the fuck are you going to do to me, Brock!? What else can you possibly take? I am so fucking tired of being afraid of you! I am done walking on eggshells and screaming in the middle of the night and looking over my shoulder!”

“Is that so?” Brock was laughing now, as if your defiance was little more than a show, as if he might peer behind the curtain and find you shaking and crying in the corner. But he’d done more than cage you all these years. He taught you what it was to live with a demon, to know a monster by name, and you were tired of letting it take root in your home. You'd sooner burn it to the ground.

“You’re nothing to me,” you said coldly. “You are nothing but a weak, pathetic little man who didn’t deserve a damn thing from me, so you resorted to taking it. Blackmail and extortion and threats. You got off by making me feel small and alone in that house and I’m done. I won’t live the rest of my life in those fears.”

Brock rolled his eyes, pacing slowly in front of you as he stepped over broken twigs in his path. Snaps like bones under his feet. He ran a hand soothingly over the barrel of the gun, admiring it. “Barnes is a bad influence on you, baby. You think you’re so brave now, don’t you?”

You tightened your jaw, wiling your breaths even. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”

Brock lunged at you, nails digging into your jawline as he forced you up to your feet in his grasp. The rock sawed through half the width of the rope as his nails drew blood on your skin. His breath was hot a flame against your cheeks.

“I’m the one holding the gun, baby,” Brock sneered. “I can still do a whole hell of hurt to you before I end your miserable life.”

You met his eye as if you stared straight into the heart of the devil. You let the fires consume you. “I’d like to see you try.”

The ropes snapped at your wrists and you threw yourself on him, sending both of you crashing to the ground.

“Fucking bitch!” Brock cursed, trying to shove you off of him, but you’d taken enough lessons with Nat to know how to immobilize an attacker.

But then you spotted the gun laying only a few feet away and you realized escape was not your intention. Brock must have followed your line of sight because he jolted enough to sporadically crawl towards the weapon.

You both lunged for it.

***

“Nat, are you sure this is where he took her?” Bucky said as he pulled up to the drive of a home that was now in ruins. He looked around the perimeter and saw nothing save for the acres of woods beyond the property.

“It’s what the profile suggests,” Natasha replied through the car speaker. Bucky could vaguely hear the clicks of her keyboard on the other end of the phone. “Rumlow thrives on drama, Buck. He’s going to bring her back to where it all began. And well, where it ended, too. He wants revenge. Bringing her back to the house puts him on an advantage.”

Bucky slid the car into park. “Keep looking anyway. I’ll call if there’s news.”

He reached for the keys, only pausing when he heard Natasha sigh. “Bring her home.”

Bucky nodded, not sure what else he could say, and turned the car off. He thought you were already freed of your past, thought that you were safe from the demons and monsters in your nightmares. He’d convinced you they were little more than your imagination playing cruel tricks on you. If he’d only listened, if he just believed you... maybe you wouldn’t be at the mercy of Brock Rumlow. Again.

He stepped out onto the driveway, staring up at what remained of the home he fell in love with you in. He shook his head, pinching at the bridge between his eyes, and jogged towards the woods. He didn’t dare call out your name in fear of what Rumlow would do under the pressure. Instead, Bucky concentrated on holding his breath and the warm touch of metal in his hands. His weapon was his grounding point. The bullets inside would not miss their target this time.

Bucky felt like he was starting to run in circles when it happened. Loud enough to jolt his heart out of pace, for the trees to shake as birds flew up into the air.

BANG!

BANG BANG!

BANG!

Four gunshots. Bucky sprinted as fast as he could, following the echo. Leaping over stray roots in the ground and swiping aside branches as they cut his arms.

He emerged into a small clearing to find you standing at the center, a gun held tight between your hands as you stared down at an unmoving body at your feet. Rumlow laid amongst the dirt, on his back, blood pooling at his chest.

“Y/n?” Bucky called gently, though you didn’t look in his direction.

Rumlow’s hand flinched and before Bucky could release his safety, you fired off another two shots. He did not move again after that. His face bore the ghost of surprise, a faded grin turned to shock in the moment you first pulled the trigger.

Bucky took a cautious step forward, your name again on his lips, but before he could get it out, he stepped on a twig, the sharp snap of it startling you as you spun in his direction, weapon now aimed at his chest. Bucky threw his arms in the air.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Bucky said as calm as he could manage, his gaze flickering to your finger still held against the trigger. It was like you were seeing straight through him. “It’s just me. It’s just me, honey.”

It took a moment before the realization flashed behind your eyes.

“James?” You lowered the gun until it hung loosely at your side, your voice nearly breaking over his name. The relief in it was enough to overwhelm him. He nodded, stepping forward and gently easing the gun out of your hands. You released it gratefully.

“It’s over,” you said simply, leaning against Bucky’s chest as you stared down at Rumlow’s body. Six total shots. Five littered over his chest. One planted between his eyes. Bucky let a hand run against your hair, his lips pressing to your crown. Small comforts he could offer.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though his stomach was aching in dread. He knew there was no comforting answer to that question, not after the hell you’d been through tonight, but he hoped nonetheless.

“I am now,” was all you replied. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes away from Rumlow. It was like you were committing it to memory – an image to draw upon when the nightmares came – to remind yourself that he was dead and it had been at your hands.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured against his shirt and Bucky started to wonder if you were still in shock. You said it as casually as one might after a dinner party.

“Hey, I’ll always come for you,” Bucky promised, an oath he’d never once doubted. Still, he sighed. “Looks like you didn’t need me though, huh?”

“I’ll always need you.” You stepped back out of his hold and this time, you looked more like yourself. You offered him a soft, tentative smile. “But it’s nice to know I can take care of myself, too.” Your gaze flickered to Rumlow. “He underestimated me again.”

“His last time,” Bucky confirmed, pride in his chest.

“I’ll have to thank Nat for all the defense classes,” you grinned. It was a strange kind of normal to be teasing as you stood over the dead body of your ex-husband, who was definitely very much dead this time.

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,” Bucky chuckled.

“And Sam! Sam always volunteered to stand in as—” You froze, eyes wide as your hand clapped over your mouth. “Oh my God, Sam. What happened? Is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s in surgery now,” Bucky replied quickly before the panic could completely set you over the edge. “Come on, I’ll bring you to the hospital. I want to get you checked out anyway.”

You nodded, leaning into Bucky’s side as he guided you back towards his car. “What about Brock?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’d rather leave him to the animals, but I’ll talk to Steve. We’ll take care of it. You’ve done enough, sweetheart.”

“Can you call Peter?” you asked as you spotted Bucky’s car in the distance. “I know it’s not rational, but I want to make sure Brock didn’t-- that he didn’t do anything to go after Peter, too.”

“Of course. You want him to meet us at the hospital?”

You smiled, a wash of relief in your eyes. You nodded.

Bucky opened the car door for you, helping to ease you gently into the seat despite the hiss of pain you released with the movement. He tried not to pay attention to the rope burns on your wrists. He’d ask the nurses to pay careful attention there. You still had scars underneath from the last time.

Bucky took an extra moment as he closed the door behind you, standing straight and taking in a breath of fresh air. The chill of the cold, starless night around him was almost a comfort as he tried to center himself. There would be time for the guilt complex nagging at the back of his head later. But right now, you needed him. He could be strong for you.

When Bucky slid into the driver’s seat, you set your hand on his right forearm almost immediately. He drove with a single hand on the wheel, his right resting against the clutch. The contact was warm and welcomed and it helped to drive out his own monsters as your thumb brushed along his skin.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” you asked quietly as the remains of the mansion drifted out of focus in the rearview.

“That’s a loaded question, sweetheart,” Bucky replied. He shifted his arm to let your hand slide down into his. His fingers curled around your own and he brought your hand to his lips. He kissed each knuckle one by one as he kept his eyes on the road. “If by ‘okay’, you’re asking if I’m still here with you, if I still love you as much as I did this morning, or a year ago, or the day I met you? Then yes, honey, we’re okay.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But if... if you’re asking because I didn’t believe you when you said Rumlow was alive, because I wrote off your fears as nightmares and let this happen to you and—”

“We’re okay,” you told him sternly, tugging your intertwined hands to your own lips. You pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “This isn’t your fault, Bucky. We had every reason to believe he was dead. This shouldn’t have happened. But it’s not because of something you did wrong. This is on Brock. Only him.”

Bucky nodded. He felt for the slight squeeze of your hand against his; that beautiful, little reminder that you were there with him no matter where his head wandered.

“He’s certainly dead now,” Bucky exhaled. He smiled, catching your eye. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You laughed and still he was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I don’t know if incredible is the right word. Vengeful, maybe. Pissed off. Scorned.”

“Strong. Fearless. Determined,” Bucky countered sincerely. “I know what it took for you to do that. I’m... I’m just really proud of you. You fought with the devil and survived.”

You sat back in your seat, staring at the trees as they passed by with a content look on your face. Relaxed for the first time in months.

“I wouldn’t give Brock that kind of credit,” you shrugged. “He was just a man. He doesn’t get to be anything more. He doesn’t have that kind of power over me. Not anymore.”

Bucky clenched his jaw in an effort to hold in the light beaming from his chest. He stole a quick glance at you, watching as you sought out the stars through clouds. His brave, wonderful girl. He wasn’t sure ‘proud’ was even strong enough anymore.

“You know Sam will hold this over you for at least a decade, right?” you laughed, shooting Bucky a teasing smirk despite the dirt on your face and the leaves still caught in your hair. You’d been through hell and you were still smiling.

“Trust me, I know,” Bucky groaned with a short shake of his head. He couldn’t help but return your smile. “I’ll give him three years and then he’s capped.”

“Three? How generous of you.”

“He’ll survive with almost no serious damage and a new battle scar to show off,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Three is pushing it.”

When he caught your eye again, his cheeks were hurting from how wide he was smiling. There were near tears in your eyes from laughter. He wasn’t sure what god to thank for you, for bringing you back home to him in one piece, for letting you smile and laugh and hold joy in your heart after all that had happened to you. But he would thank them all.

***

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[bitchassbucky]

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

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iii - .raw

iv - .png

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4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

----------------------------

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

------------------------

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

-----------------------------

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

[the-great-infinity]

THE DOTS

Connect them as you will 

The Permaheart

Torog, the Crawling King, captures and tortures the warrior Ganix, twisting him into the Laughing Hand, and trapping his heart in an extraplanar chamber

The archmage Halas Lutagran finds this extraplanar space, and shackles it to his own extra-dimensional tower

Halas dispels the field around the heart. It emits a corrosive aura and summons fleshy tendrils to defend itself

Halas manages to seal the heart in a case of runic imprisonment

Halas experiments on the heart, attempting to imbue it’s undying nature and regenerative properties into human flesh, to avoid lichdom

Halas ejects his failed experiments into the Astral Sea

Aeor

Arcanists from the floating city of Aeor create weapons that can kill gods. The gods, Prime and Betrayer alike, work together to bring Aeor down

Aeor begins to crash, vanishing over the horizon to the north, thought to be obliterated or lost beneath the Frozen Depths

Vokodo

A morkoth (?) from the Astral Sea flees in terror from a living, moving city made of flesh, shattering the boundaries between worlds and bringing shards of other planes with it to the prime material plane.

The Mighty Nein travel to Rumblecusp, and in an attempt to defeat the morkoth (?) Vokodo, banish it back to the Astral Sea for a minute.

As it dies, the morkoth (?) projects images, presumably memories, of the city it fled from into the Mighty Nein’s heads. The phrase “Eyes of Nine” sticks with them.

Nonagon

A tiefling named Lucien leads a group of blood hunters from their order to find a new path as the Tomb Takers

Lucien, now going by the name Nonagon, with the help of a mage woman from the capital (presumably Rexxentrum), attempts to reach a “city” via ritual

Believing the ritual to have failed, the Tomb Takers bury Nonagon/Lucien and scatter, leaving no trace of the ritual. The tome used in the ritual remains with the mage

A tiefling wakes up in the ground with no memories of his previous life and nine red eye “tattoos” that won’t take ink. The only thought on his mind is the word “empty”

Me for the past 5 episodes:

-

Ok now, a long shot: is this connected to Tharizdun?

Shifting, moving

from c2e83: “In this darkness, you can see tendrils of similar type dark smoke swirling between your linked arms as shapes begin to gather from them into chains. Chains that pull and bind between you in odd ways. Many chains. Loose, then taut. Loose, then pulled taut again.” (Description of Allura’s ritual)

from c2e105: “It would seem rigid, and then it would tense, like muscles, and then become suddenly curved and organic, and then shift back.” (Description of Vokodo’s vision)

Hunger

Hunger has been a recurring theme throughout the campaign, beginning with Kylre in the very first episode, then the manticore

from c2e83: “There is no Angel of Irons. It is a guise for the Chained Oblivion. For Tharizdun. The terrible mad god of endless hunger and destruction. It masquerades its efforts for freedom by this angel’s name.” (Yussa)

from c2e105: “A city that is moving under its own power. Hunting. Moving with will. Following. You feel the fear of Vokodo. You feel it trying to escape. You feel this city hungry and chasing… This is weirdly familiar, but so alien. Thousands of minds within are the city. It doesn’t make sense. Hungry, seeking. There’s another flash within the minds of Eyes of Nine.” (Description of Vokodo’s vision)

Empty

from c2e14: “I’m told--although I don’t entirely remember this part--that I only said the word ‘empty’ over and over again for the first week. I don’t know what that means.” (Molly)

from c2e83: “Seven segments around the pit of darkness, endless, yet living. It’s strange to look into the blackness of night and feel the emptiness, but this, you look into this emptiness and you feel something immense. Something old. Something mad.” (Description of Allura’s ritual)

Obann

Under the guise of the Angel of Irons, Tharizdun has Obann release the Laughing Hand.

from c2e86: “Obann the Punished rises. A mass of black, blue, and dark, deep green tentacles and teeth and eyes, cursed now with a punished form from the Chained Oblivion.” A similar description to the Laughing Hand?

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Edit: In case anyone wants a more updated and comprehensive list, I’ve posted all my notes in a document here. Suggestions welcome!

[dreamcatcherrs]

3 types of kisses - sapnap

(suggestive content! 18+ or read with caution)

NECK KISS/HICKEY

this guy, I swear to god, he is such a brat, and don’t think for a second that that’ll change once he’s in a relationship. I mean yeah, he’s a soft boy, but gosh he’s a wild card as well. one second he’s all soft, the next he's acting like a brat and annoying the shit out of you, and then he’s all over you like a horny 15-year old boy. you never know what mood he’s gonna be in next.

“nick, don't you even think about it,” you snarled, squinting your eyes at your boyfriend as his hands hovered over your sides. his face held a mischievous smirk, which really wasn't giving you a good feeling about escaping the crazed man above you. “I will kill you if you even just as much as lay a finger on me.”

but alas, your hisses and threats had no effect on him and he proceeded with his mischievous actions by letting his fingers run loose across your sides. you squirmed in your place, letting out a loud squeak as he laughed at your misery.

“nick, don't do this!” you screamed, attempting to push his hands away to stop the uncomfortable tingles shooting through your body, but failing miserably. your breathing became harder to control as a fit of unstoppable giggles escaped your mouth, unable to do anything until your idiot boyfriend stopped tickling you.

that son of a bitch was laughing, too.

what did you do to deserve this kind of pain? apparently a lot since nick had no plans of stopping anytime soon. you had to do something. so, as anyone else would, you curled yourself into a ball as best as you could, before kicking out your legs to knock him backwards.

it worked for a moment, your boyfriend falling back onto the bed for just enough time for you to catch your breath again, before he was on top of you again in an instant.

“very smart, but too bad you're still the one under me.” he grabbed your wrists before you could push him back again, this time straddling your legs so you couldn't escape. he collected your wrists with one hand, placing them above your head whilst his other hand continued the sinful actions of tickling you to death.

you yelled out his name in agony, nails clawing into his hand. you HATED being tickled, and your prick of a boyfriend knew exactly just how much. you had just been peacefully putting your clothes back in your drawer as nick played on dream’s smp, when all of a sudden he tackled you onto your bed and started tickling you like it was the last thing he did.

“c’mon y/n, out of breath already? I haven't even started yet,” he teased, laughing at your face when you sent him a mean stare.

“no~ please stop,” you whined, trying to shake him off of you. the tickles were getting worse, your heart beating so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. you felt him slow down his hand movements a little, making your eyes light up. “please don't, babe. I’ll do anything.” you pouted at him, giving him puppy eyes. his hand stopped moving completely at your suggestion.

“you’ll do anything?” he gave you a smug look, raising an eyebrow. you nodded profusely, blinking a set of innocent eyes at him, when of course you weren't going to do anything for that little shit. “well, in that case…”

he released the grip on your wrists slowly, stupid fucker, and without hesitation you used all of your weight to tackle him onto his back, using the same technique as him by straddling his legs.

“hah!” you grinned, forcing his hands on each side of his head. “not so tough now, are you?” he quickly wiped off his shocked expression, replacing it with an eye roll. he easily ripped his hands from your grip, and grabbed your shoulders with a strong enough force to roll you onto your back again.

you groaned in annoyance, quickly raising your arms up in front of you as some sort of shield. there was no way you were letting him tickle you again.

“ohhh, you sneaky little snake,” he chuckled darkly, locking your chin between his thumb and index finger to hold you still. “what ever should I do with you now? I can't believe you lied to me.”

“I told you to stop...!” you trailed off with a weak voice when seeing the disapproval in his eyes, telling you to shut up. suddenly, you didn't feel so brave anymore.

“tickles don't work on you, so I guess I’m just gonna have to try something else..”

you looked into his green eyes, noticing how they'd grown dull and hooded. his thumb latched onto your bottom lip, pulling the flesh downwards and staring at it attentively. your heart stopped for a second at the feeling, blood rushing to your cheeks in an instant.

before you could react further, his face dove into your neck, lips soft against your skin as he planted a sweet kiss just below your jaw. the feeling made you sigh out, body relaxing underneath his. he took your pleased sound as an invitation to further his kisses, running his tongue across the kiss he’d planted, its warmth and wetness sending shivers down your spine. he latched his lips onto the skin and sucked it gently, making a low hum escape your lips.

the noises you were starting to make made him smirk, teeth clamping down on the bruised skin to nibble on it gently, and then continued downwards to leave another burning hickey on a different part of your unmarked skin in that same order.

“nick,” you breathed out, raking your fingers through his brown locks. your eyes closed shut in pure bliss at the feeling, heat pooling between your thighs as he explored your unmarked skin. you moved a daring hand to his lower region, placing it softly on his growing erection.

he let out a groan at the sensation, but moved your hand away before you could pleasure him further. he pulled away from your neck, his breathing in sync with yours and eyes wide from the sudden outburst of passion coming from him.

“I’m still on a call with dream,” he huffed, eyes following your lips like a moth would to a flame. he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, and your fingers crawled up under his shirt ever so slightly, playing with the material.

“I don’t care.” you stared at his lustfilled eyes, darkening at your words. he hovered above you for a little, before crashing his lips onto yours in a heated kiss, and you pulled at his roots to push his face closer to yours, not even thinking about letting him go for a second.

dream was not happy with the noises he heard, and had to end the call once realising that his friend wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

😳

FRENCH KISS

sapnap really loves being passionate with his kisses - like he really gets into it. once you start making out with him it’s hard to stop again because he almost always wants to take it further when things get heated. french kisses has to be on this list, like there's just no way this isn't one of his favourites.

it felt like time had stopped completely, everything becoming still around you. nothing else mattered in this moment - only the touch of his lips and your breaths mixed together mattered, and everything that was to come. the room didn't feel so cold anymore, actually you weren't sure you'd ever been this hot in your life.

your teeth clashed with his as you kissed him, tongue swirling around his in a wet and warm embrace. his hand felt up your sides, squeezing the soft flesh that exposed itself to him - his other hand pulling you closer to him by your thigh. he took your straddled position on his lap to his advantage and pushed your hips down to lean your weight on his groin.

you hummed in surprise, cupping his cheek with one hand to press your lips to his harder. he groaned at your close proximity, placing both of his hands on your hips instead to help you grind down on him.

the friction made you moan into his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip gently to mute yourself. his fingers sneaked their way under the hem of your shirt, pushing the material upwards with his hands as they roamed your warm and untouched skin.

you shivered at the coldness of his hands, and pulled away from his lips to catch your breath again. he had left you panting, lips wet and bruised from the rough kiss. he kept himself busy and moved his kisses downwards, venturing towards your collarbone and pulling off your shirt to get easier access to your skin.

you blushed at your sudden bareness, shying away from him even though it was no new sight for him to see. he grabbed your hand that was about to cover you up, lacing his fingers with yours whilst giving you an assuring look.

you swallowed subtly, slowly nodding at him and closing in on him again. he smiled gently at your shyness. even though there'd been many other times he'd seen you wearing less clothes than you were now, you still managed to get shy around him.

he leaned in again, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your lips, before kissing you fully again. you relaxed in his embrace, quickly falling into submission as your tongues met again, not wishing for a second that this moment would end.

ANGEL KISS

of course I had to leave in a soft kiss, because even though sap can get kind of wild with his s/o, he is such a cuddly bear and just wants to devour his partner and squeeze them to death. he always wants to kiss you, why wouldn't he? angel kisses are for soft bois only.

he had only noticed you’d fallen asleep once he heard light snores come from your parted lips, looking down only to see your eyes closed shut and your eyebrows furrowed together slightly.

he smiled down at you, mumbling a very quiet “cute” and turned down the volume of the movie, so you wouldn't wake up again. he scooted down further from his place against the bedrest to lay down on the bed fully, being careful yet again not to wake you up.

he gently moved your head onto the pillow instead of his chest, covering your bodies in the fluffy duvet that just waited to wrap you up in its warmth. he pushed a loose strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear, stroking your cheek gently with the back of his fingers while he was there.

“how are you so cute?” he whispered, knowing that you couldn't hear him, but his heart not being able to keep his emotions hidden when looking at you. the more he looked at you, the faster his heart beat and the more his eyes lit up with love.

he carefully approached you, placing very light and delicate pecks onto your closed eyelids once he was close enough to your face. the feeling was almost as light as a feather, but just enough to make a small smile cross your face in your sleep.

he pulled away once seeing the smile on your face, causing him to smile as well, and pressed his forehead to yours. he cozied up to you before closing his eyes as well, dozing off to dreamland after mumbling into your ear; “I love you, princess.”

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I CAN’T BELIEVE I MADE IT TO 200 FOLLOWERS

this is actually insane, thank you all so much. this wouldn't have been possible without you guys, not to mention that this follow base is filled with the kindest and most incredible people out there. I seriously love you guys so much and if my writing can make your day at least 1% better when you're at 0%, that makes all of this worth it💜 I love each and every one of you with all of my heart💕