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sjsmith56 · 2 days ago

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You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

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jaegeraether · 14 hours ago

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Unknown Territory (Alexia and Ridley)

(*5k*)

Masterlist (other parts here)

RIDLEY POV

Ridley was in unknown territory. Never before had she needed to communicate her personal decisions, especially knowing that Alexia wouldn’t exactly be happy with what had happened.

She wasn’t meant to have been on the front line, directly in the line of fire. Unfortunately though, it had happened. She knew Alexia had been stressed lately with the two of them being apart for over a month, along with her being hard on herself for missing a penalty in the Olympics and subsequently pushing herself five times harder following it. Ridley had wished she could have come home for it, but she’d been far too deep into an operation. Only at this moment did she finally have a spare second to worry about something other than trying to keep her and her team alive.

Not wanting to give her anymore stress, and almost completely out of her area of expertise, she called the one person she knew would understand and give the best advice.

“Riddles!” YFN answered enthusiastically, even though she was most likely doing ten different things at once.

“Hey baby Blue.” Ridley murmured.

She heard whatever she was shuffling around pause. “Something’s wrong. What is it, Riddles?”

There she went – already knowing her far too well.

Ridley opened up about as much as she was willing to regarding her current state of mind. Knowing that the last thing she needed was to be teased, she immediately went into the part of the conversation that Ridley needed.

“Oh, Riddles. You’re okay physically?”

Ridley looked at the scrape across her arm from her wrist down and around to the outside of her elbow.

“For the most part.”

There was a pause, followed by some rustling and then her camera came on. She’d clearly moved into her office and was sporting a cute pout with her dimples on full display.

“Show me.”

Ridley rolled her eyes and turned on her camera. She let her assess her facial expression and then briefly showed her arm, assuring it was just a scrape.

“Still have all of your limbs and phalanges then?”

Ridley wiggled her fingers. “Still a platinum bisexual.”

“Riddles, you need to talk to her. I know she’s been really stressed at the moment, and missing you like crazy. Much more than she’d ever care to admit.”

“You’ve been talking to her?”

“Of course! She’s my friend.”

Ridley knew that of course, but not the extent of it. Alexia had always been a private person.

“We’ve been talking a lot at the minute,” she admitted. “I think a lot of it is because she feels closer to you when talking to me.”

She knew it was a slight hint. She didn’t even defend herself because she knew that Blue was aware of what happened when the operation was that deep into it. Instead, she brought up another concern of hers.

“I can’t leave right now. I can’t spare even the time to fly there and see her for five minutes, or I would.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Saudi.”

She grimaced. “That’s difficult. I know she needs you though, Riddles. You know you two can talk through anything, even you having to put your life on the line again. It’s completely justifiable with Wombat being hurt..”

“I can’t leave, and I don’t want her coming to Saudi in this political state. I feel like she will be more upset if I facetime her. You’ve been speaking to her lately…”

“Oh Riddles, never did I ever think you’d be calling me with relationship issues.” She chuckled softly. “I have no doubt she’ll travel to you though. She has a few days free. Where’s the farthest you can get away?”

Barely anything. “Dubai.”

Blue nodded. “How about you get a hotel in Dubai and she can meet you there?”

“I can do that.”

“You can find the time?”

“I’ll make the time.”

After her call with Blue, she felt slightly better. Her next call was to Alexia. She video called her and felt herself almost ache at the sight of a frustrated Alexia answering far too quickly.

God, that woman. She was beautiful, even as she was so obviously trying to keep her emotions in check.

They didn’t speak for a few seconds, just taking each other in. Ridley assessing Alexia’s emotions and Alexia assessing her for injuries.

“Hola,” Alexia eventually said, softly.

“Hi, love.” Ridley responded in Catalan.

The sound of her voice made Alexia smile the slightest.

“Lex, there was an incident-”

“Is everyone okay?” Those eyes betrayed just how worried she was about Ridley being off on operation.

“Everyone is alive. Wombat… he was injured. Pinned down. I had to intercede.”

Realisation. “You went into combat?”

“I had to.” She murmured. “Or we would have lost him.”

A pause before her face softened a little. “He’s okay now?”

Ridley sucked in a breath. “He’s still in critical care. They got him pretty good. I managed to extract him.”

Alexia nodded, her brain working overtime.

“Lex, this is why I need to be here. If I wasn’t there-”

“I know.” She whispered, her voice getting husky. “I know.”

“I can work second line. I get it. I have you now, I have something to come home to. But there will be operations that I need to come to.”

Alexia cleared her throat. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for your Olympics.” She said guiltily, for what seemed like the fifth time.

Alexia was not the type of person who wanted sympathy. So instead of making her feel guilty, she simply gave a small, encouraging smile. “I’m sorry I’m not there to comfort you while your brother is in hospital.”

Her heart softened. Alexia. “But could you be..?”

“I… where are you?”

“I’m in Saudi, but I can get to Dubai. Blue said you have a few days off. I don’t want to make you travel unnecessarily, though.”

Emotions flickered across her face and she tried to cover it. “I can come.”

“I’ll find a flight and send details.”

“How long can I stay?”

“However long you can be away from Barca.”

“Lee-”

“I’ll find the time, Lex. Just… come.”

“Okay.”

ALEXIA POV

The private jet Ridley had organised landed in Dubai in the afternoon when the sun had just started to set. As soon as the engines were turned off and the door was opened, customs agents came on board to check passports and visas. She had hitched a ride with a well-off family, most of who couldn’t speak a word of English or Spanish besides the father who had been lovely and offered her everything he had.

She knew by his hospitality that he knew Ridley and they had some form of a professional relationship there. There was a lot of respect.

The first customs agent to approach Alexia also couldn’t speak English, nor Spanish. It was surprising to her at first as English was so widely spoken in Dubai, though this was a smaller, private airport.

Seeing that the owner of the jet was busy with the other agent, she was slightly flustered as Ridley had organised her paperwork. She showed her passport and when the agent gestured for more, her heart sunk.

She was finally in Dubai, where Ridley was, and she had to leave again.

Fuck.

Before it became a problem, a voice sounded from the front of the aircraft. She didn’t understand the language, but she did know the voice. Alexia peered past the agent to see Ridley in an all-black suit looking so attractive her breath caught. She handed the agent some paperwork and barely looking at it, he nodded and gave Alexia a smile before leaving.

Ridley said her hellos to the man and his family before getting to her.

She filled her presence with immediate warmth and calm and that nostalgic smell of her perfume washed over her. Woody, spicy, with a sweet hint of musk. She looked up at the slightly taller woman, into those dark eyes with playful gold flecks dancing.

She wanted to touch her, kiss her, anything. But this was Dubai. And in Dubai, homosexuality was illegal. She’d need to take Ridley’s lead.

Surprisingly, the Australian leant into her in a way much more than two female friends. The side of her forehead touched Alexia’s, her body leaning into her own. God, she missed her.

She felt Ridley’s body relax against hers.

“Alexia,” she murmured quietly, as if all of her problems had faded away with her arrival. “You came.”

Alexia pressed into her, nodding. Of course she did.

Ridley pressed an impassioned kiss to her forehead before pulling away and pausing to look at her necklace. “No happy sun?” She asked in Catalan.

The stars.

She had turned it around, like she usually did when she was without her.

When she didn’t respond, Ridley reach out and touched it gently before grabbing her bag. “Is this all you had?”

“I have a small suitcase..”

“Already in the car, Lex.”

She secretly loved how organised she was. Always taking the pressure off of her. Ridley was her escape from all of that.

“Then yes.”

“Good. Come.”

They drove in silence though it was anything but uncomfortable. Alexia held Ridley’s thigh as she drove, the Australian gently stroking her hand as she did so. It felt… right.

As Ridley turned the steering wheel, she caught a glimpse of a bandage well-hidden and felt her worry rise. To distract herself, she looked at Ridley as she drove; her sharp, dark features illuminated under the city lights, and reminded herself that she was in fact, very real.

Fuck, I missed you, she thought.

Ridley took interest in a police car flying past and smirked.

Alexia’s heart melted. I missed you.

Eyes back in front of her, Ridley continued to stroke those gentle patterns into the back of her hand, sending shivers throughout her body.

Wait, why am I so stubbornly keeping this to myself? She thought. She’s my partner.

“I missed you.” Alexia said quietly and watched Ridley’s jaw flex and her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

“I could say the same but it would be the understatement of the year.”

Fuck.

Alexia moved her hand up her muscled thigh further, gliding over the fabric of her pants until her pinky was resting against her core. Ridley shifted her hips to press into her ever so slightly and the part Alexia loved most, was that it seemed like an unconscious thing.

“Keep going, Lex, and I’ll pull this car over and fuck you right here.” She turned to look at her, those gold flecks now still and serious. “Until your body fucking gives out.”

Alexia shivered with lust, but she didn’t move. She kept her hand there, pressed up against her, the car now feeling so tense with need.

They arrived at the hotel and pulled up at the front door valet. Ridley removed Alexia’s hand from her thigh and kissed it before she opened the door. It was her way of apologising, but her eyes said she wanted to tear the clothes from her body.

Ridley took her bag and Alexia followed her lead inside and to the elevators. They were granted their privacy and Alexia was pleasantly surprised at that, given they were two women sharing accommodation. As the elevator doors closed, Ridley pressed herself up against the wall opposite Alexia and tilted her head, looking her up and down. She saw her hands flexing as if to try and keep them to herself and the Spaniard smiled to herself, turning away to try and stop herself moving towards her.

Fuck, she missed this.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“You existing doesn’t make this easy.” Ridley quipped back, her gaze not moving.

Alexia watched the levels move past far too slowly for her liking and rolled her neck, closing her eyes, in an attempt to get through. Just a few more levels.

Eventually the elevator stopped and just when she thought she wasn’t going to move, Ridley swept deliberately into her space, and out the doors, brushing her arm as she went by.

Fuck.

She followed her to their accommodation and stepped through the door Ridley was holding open for her, gesturing her in while she stayed at the door.

“Go. Explore.”

It was just as spectacular as she’d imagined it to be, and more. Very Ridley-style. Sleek, modern, minimalistic with a refined culture about it. The view over to the Burj Khalifa was spectacular, and visible from not only their bed, but the shower and bath too. She ran her hand over the marble of the bathroom counter, smiling at Ridley’s things all set out how she liked. Curious, she opened the drawer at the bottom to reveal what she knew she’d find, and yet was still surprised by. Toys.

That was Ridley, always prepared. Biting her lip, she closed it.

“Thank you.” She heard Ridley say at the door.

Ah – her suitcase.

Moving back into the bedroom, she tried to ignore how tantalising the bed looked after her flight, and instead opened the wardrobe to find the few things Ridley had brought with her all neatly arranged on her side, and Alexia’s side free besides a black garment bag and a pair of heels. Zipping it down slightly, she found a stunning black satin dress in her own size. For her?

Hearing Ridley walk in and lay the suitcase on the table, she turned with a question in her eyes.

“I have a dinner reservation for us. We can go now, later or not at all. I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Alexia replied, gesturing to her clothes. “I love your suit.”

Ridley smiled, always proud of her sense of fashion. Something they shared. “Thank-”

“Take it off.”

Ridley’s lips parted, caught off guard. Alexia loved doing that. She took one step forwards and sat on the end of the bed.

“Now.”

She smartly closed her mouth and began undressing, starting with her rings and cufflinks while Alexia watched every single piece of clothing being removed and laid out carefully on the back of the chair. She was turned around, so Alexia could only see her from behind, but that was more than enough.

She admired those back muscles of hers, her naked ass and thighs, the cropped shaggy hair at the back of her neck, and sneakily, she wanted to see how injured she was.

There were a few scrapes and bruises here and there, though as she turned around to face her, there were less on her front which was good. Her arm, though. The bandage spread from her wrist up and around to the inside of her elbow. Alexia studied it, and then the rest of her naked body with a patience she didn’t have in the elevator.

She loved the way her hair hung around her sharp jaw, the way the arteries in her neck were visible whenever she turned her head, her well-earned biceps, veiny hands, strong abs extending down into a sharp V that cut away at her hips. Thigh muscles that showed even when standing still, right down to her bare feet standing gently on the soft carpet, and back up.

Perfectly neat, manicured and clean. Perfectly… Ridley.

Mine. The voice in her head claimed fiercely.

Her eyes found the bandage again. Before she could speak, Ridley stepped forwards and knelt in front of her, her hand on Alexia’s thighs.

“Just a scratch, Lex. It’s nothing big, I promise.”

Alexia ran her hand down the bandage, feeling that there were only a few stitches along the line. “Would you have told me if I weren’t coming to Dubai?”

Only honestly reflected in those eyes. “Yes.”

Her hands moved across Ridley’s strong, naked shoulders and up into her shaggy, dark hair where they found purchase. She gripped on, pulling her head back.

“Care to explain to me why there are sex toys in the bathroom?”

Ridley chuckled, enjoying her hair being tugged on. “I wanted to be prepared. I didn’t know what you’d want from me…”

It was an honest statement. Ridley admitting she wasn’t too great at relationships. Alexia’s hands eased a bit as she softened for her.

“You want to abuse me about my arm? Go ahead. You want to tell me how awful I am for missing out on your Olympics campaign? I’ll take it. You just want to sit apart in a room in silence for 2 days? Sure. I don’t care. As long as I’m in the same fucking room as you.”

“Lee..” she whispered, every ounce of la Reina disappearing from her.

“You missed me, Lex? I fucking mourn you every day we’re apart. Just ask the team. I’m a fucking grump.”

God, if she wasn’t practically dripping already, that would certainly do it. She leant forwards and pressed her forehead against Ridley’s.

“So what do you want from me..?” She asked softly.

Unable to stop herself any longer, Alexia’s mouth found Ridley’s desperately. Passionately. And more than willing under her own. As their lips parted and their tongues brushed, Ridley groaned, her arms sliding up Alexia’s thighs, around to her lower back and under her pants to her ass.

“Being prepared is always good.” Alexia admitted breathily against her mouth.

“Answer the question before I go mad,” she responded in a desperate tone that Alexia loved.

Her hand closed around her throat to stop her mouth on hers for a second, but Ridley was strong and liked the feeling, pushing against it so she could find her neck.

God, her mouth on her neck.

Fuck.

“What do I want from you?” She gasped as Ridley pushed harder against her hand, her mouth finding that sensitive spot just below her ear. “Everything. Always. I want you.. fuck.. inside me. I want to be inside you. I want you over me. Under me. I want everything. I want all of you. Always.”

Alexia had to grip Ridley’s throat with both hands just to push her back and fuck, was it a sight. Her eyes were dark, hooded and lustful. When Alexia squeezed, they rolled back slightly.

She loved that.

Her thumb stroked across the scar on her cheek, her lips finding the one closer to her hairline.

“All of you.”

Ridley moaned.

“Fuck me, Ridley.”

She let go on her throat suddenly, the blood rushing back into her cheeks as Ridley pulled the pants off from under her. She slid them down her legs, along with the shoes and socks, working her way back up the insides of her thighs with her mouth and fingers until she was at Alexia’s obvious arousal.

Gently lowering herself and lifting her legs over her shoulders, Ridley’s mouth found her core and tasted the excitement that had built up over the past hour.

She groaned into her, as if starved from it for too long and slid her tongue inside to taste what she could. Alexia gripped into her hair for dear life.

Fuck.

Ridley groaned again, her tongue moving up through her to her clit where she worked her exactly how she liked. Not too fast, not too slow, flat tongue dragging across her clit from bottom to top like a fucking icecream.

Alexia wanted to scream. To cry out. She whimpered, her body tensing as she tried to keep it together.

Fuck she’d missed this.

She’d missed her.

Not just the sex, her fucking partner.

Ridley adjusted a little and then Alexia felt her hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, her fingers stroking through her wet mess just under her mouth to her entrance. As her mouth kept harassing her clit, she slid just the very tip of her fingers in and out, working her up.

How had she gone so long without her?

Home.

She was her fucking home.

Ridley slid her fingers in slowly, as if enjoying feeling her around them, her fingers curling around into that perfect g-spot where the large group of nerves under her clit sat. Her curled fingers pressed down hard, circling there.

And just like that, there was no hope for her. Her clit being stimulated from both directions, Ridley’s groaning, her sure tongue, strong shoulders where her legs were hung over, the pads of her fingers expertly fucking her just right.

She felt her body tightening up, being taken so fucking high so quickly. And after a month apart? After the Olympics? After missing Ridley? She needed this.

She tried to bite back her cries into whimpers as she came, but could barely manage it. Alexia was a mess.

Ridley rode her through it, her tongue being replaced by the pressure of her thumb, and her fingers still working inside her.

Somehow Ridley was moving, Alexia felt shifted backwards as she clenched, her back touching the bed and Ridley’s body above her, fingers holding pressure now.

When she could finally breathe, she did just so, though she had barely sucked in air when Ridley’s fingers started pumping in and out of her.

Oh, fuck.

She clawed at her back, trying to do anything to stop herself from coming too quickly when that’s all her body wanted. She’d never felt so comfortable in her body as when she was with Ridley. There was never any judgement for anything she wanted or felt. She encouraged it all out of her, like she never believed was possible.

“You’re my life.” Ridley grunted against her neck, her bicep flexing as she fucked her.

Alexia arched her back and held on.

She curled her fingers hard, fucking her until Alexia was frustrated at her clothing. She needed to be closer. Skin on skin. She dragged her shirt and bra up over her head, Ridley grunting, unimpressed at being interrupted from her sucking of her throat.

Better.

“Spread.”

She did as she was told, spreading her legs apart and rocking into the strong, steady thrusts of her Australian.

Fuck.

“Use your words, Lex. Be a good girl.” She encouraged as she fucked deeper, harder. “I want to hear it all.”

Up until then, she’d been trying too hard to keep it all inside. Ridley was right.

“Fuck…” she whimpered. “Fuck.. fuck. Argh.”

I love you.

“All of it,” Ridley growled, biting her neck.

“I.. I love you. I… fuck. I m..iss you. I love you. Fuck me.”

“That’s it, my girl. I want to hear every thought in your head.”

“I’m y…yours. Please don’t stop.” She cried, letting herself fall into a state of submission that only Ridley could draw out of her.

“Not if the fucking building collapsed.”

“You’re my home. I love you. I love you, Ridley.”

She felt the shiver run down Ridley’s back under her hands. Ridley’s mouth found her ear, and if she wasn’t wet enough from her fucking, the sweet sounds of squeezing, fucking wetness, then Ridley’s gasps in her ear would have done it.

“I’m yours, Alexia. All of me. Always. I love you.”

Ridley wasn’t the type to say something for the sake of it, or because it was what she wanted to hear. She only said it when she felt it so deeply that she couldn’t last a second more without letting it out.

And at that knowledge, Alexia came hard around her fingers.

“Jesus,” Ridley complimented as her fingers were sucked into her and clenched around. “Fuuuck Lex.”

A twitching, sweaty, wet mess was exactly what Alexia was. But she hadn’t felt so relaxed and at ease in a long time. She closed her eyes and felt her body release that tension it had been holding onto for a month, the anxiety and pressure it had clung onto since she’d missed her penalty at the Olympics.

It was just her, and Ridley.

No amount of sex or masturbation could give her that. It was just… them. Her. The person she fell asleep dreaming about every night. The one she often fell into a daydream about. The person who could sense her emotions better than she could.

She breathed out her tension audibly, noticing that Ridley was no longer inside her, but her body was still warm against her own, softly stroking her skin and giving her the time she needed.

She remembered back to Blau’s official launching of Lumos, and to the party that had followed. Somewhere along the way, Alexia had lost Ridley as she’d been dragged away by people wanting to talk to “La Reina.”

She’d lost everyone she knew at that point and had felt her anxiety creeping up around so many unknown people. When it threatened to take over, she’d looked up and caught Ridley’s eyes.

Somehow, she’d known before Alexia even had, and was already making her way through the crowd to her.

She’d come up close, her arm weaving around her waist, Alexia's over her shoulder and holding each other close. Just like that, her anxiety had disappeared just as fast as it had arrived.

She felt fingertips gently stroking her cheek, around her ear, down to her jaw and along it.

“Daydreaming about me, are we?”

Without opening her eyes, Alexia smiled. “Cocky.”

“Mmn, I’ll take that as a yes. You need to teach your facial expressions how to use their inside voice.”

Alexia chuckled and turned to kiss the palm of her hand now stroking through her blonde hair. She opened her eyes to see Ridley calmly studying her. “It’s only because you know me so annoyingly well.”

“Mmnhmn.” She watched her for a little longer, her fingers stroking through her hair so gently that Alexia could have fallen asleep happy right then and there. “What would you like now, Lex?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Those gold flecks danced. “Try me.”

Alexia shifted, pushed Ridley onto her back and hovering low over her. So low her tits were brushing against Ridley’s own, her blonde hair curtaining around her face. Her leg came up Ridley’s and pressed her thigh against her own obvious arousal. The feeling of her wet against her thigh almost had her changing her mind. Ridley grabbed her ass, one of her favourite things along with her thighs, and squeezed, her eyes rolling back slightly as Alexia worked her mouth up her neck slowly, ending on her lips which she brushed over with a gentleness.

“I want to get you so frustrated that later tonight, you’ll be begging for la Reina.”

Ridley groaned in protest as Alexia stood suddenly, leaving her naked and needy on the bed.

“Now come fuck me in the shower and take me to dinner.”

RIDLEY POV

Ridley had thought she’d been prepared for everything. An angry Alexia, pissed off at her for the Olympics. A worried one, seeing her bandage. A heartbroken one, wanting to rethink them as the distance was hurting her.

Not once did she imagine Alexia to be so… fucking perfect. Frustratingly so. So needy and excited and loving and understanding of everything in its entirely.

After their rather exasperating shower in which Ridley was even more worked up by her, they got dressed. Ridley, into her tailored black suit and Alexia, into the dress she had made for her specially. She had no idea if she’d be getting Alexia or la Reina, whether she’d be feeling feminine or more androgynous, but she had taken a guess. And fuck, was she right.

Alexia walked in front of her at the restaurant, her independent side coming out more now that she’d had some stress relief and clothes to help her feel beautiful. Which was the understatement of the century.

The black dress, made to suit Ridley’s suit fit her perfectly, hugging her hips and ass. God, was she obsessed with that. The control it took to not reach out and lay her hand on it, making sure everyone knew that she was hers.

Her hair fell wavy down around her shoulders, and she was even Ridley’s height with the heels on.

She wore a few accessories that she’d chosen herself. Rings, a bracelet, earring and the sunshine necklace, though now it was turned around to show the happy sun.

They sat down to eat, trying their best to not touch each other in public. Ridley eventually gave up and leant her leg against her own under the table which sufficed her for the time being. After their starters and a few glasses of wine, they ordered their mains and while they were waiting, Alexia ducked off to the bathroom. Ridley watched her go, curious if she was being sneaky and trying to give them her credit card to pay before she could.

But she didn’t. She headed straight to the bathroom, and straight back.

As she arrived back, she sat just as the mains arrived. They would do their typical thing of sharing half a meal each, as delicious as they both looked.

Alexia smiled and thanked the server as he left. Watching him go, she turned back to Ridley.

“Shall we eat?”

Alexia gave her a look. “As long as you’re not too full to eat tonight.”

Christ.

“I will never be too full for that. And I will never be fully fucking satiated by tasting you either.” She murmured low enough that others couldn’t hear.

“Good.” She smiled and then reached her hand across the table. “You dropped this.”

Please don’t be my fucking credit card the sneaky-

As soon as she took hold of it, she froze, jaw locking and eyes closing while she tried to control herself.

Alexia crossed her legs and began to eat her meal while Ridley slipped her underwear into her pocket.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca #alexia putellas #sunsetsandfootballers

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 hours ago

Text

Just Too Important - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: They're back! They're obsessed with each other! Ben once again is proving that he's the grumpiest old man to ever grumpy old man! Enjoy!

Title from Snooze by SZA

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, mentions of smut

There were only five things Ben had ever really fucking loved. Loved with his whole goddamn existence, so much he could probably kill himself with it if he tried.

He’d loved his mom. Loved her in a simple, pure way that he’d probably taken for fucking granted. She had been secure. The only person Ben had known wasn’t going to hate him for being a fuck up or problem. She’d pleaded with his father when Ben had been sent away. Kept in contact with him when she wasn’t supposed to. Still thought of him as just Ben, even when he’d given her every reason not to. Ben had loved his mom because she was his mom. He’d grieved her in drinks and silence when she died, and known that—compared to what he’d been before—she would’ve been proud of him now. Living a life that wasn’t violence and glamour. A life that was just stupid fucking ease and perfection, with a beautiful wife and smart son, in a comfort he’d never imagined he’d get to have.

He loved the movie Legally Blonde. His wife was never allowed to fucking know that.

He loved Ryan. The kid was a fucking genius, and Ben wasn’t sure how the hell Homelander had a single hand in creating him. He was kind and smart and determined, and a purely good fucking person. He’d been born from a long line of deeply fucked men, but he read books and cried when the dog died in a movie. He fucking loved school, and liked people, and tried so hard to be normal that Ben was sometimes worried he’d hurt himself. Ryan never needed to fucking apologize for having powers. He never needed to feel guilt for the shit Homelander had done, and never needed to repent like Ben had. He was just a fucking kid. A kid who sometimes woke up crying because he’d had a nightmare about his father—because they all did—and who’d apologize for waking Ben after. Ben really wished the people he loved would stop fucking apologizing to him.

He loved dancing. His wife already knew that one, but Ben was pretty damn sure she didn’t know just how much he loved it. It was reliable. Simple. Something his mother had made him learn, and something that he could use to make his wife fall into his arms and giggle against his chest. A way to use his body that wasn’t for destruction, an excuse to touch Her until she gave him a perfect, happy smile, and he somehow loved her more.

Because that was the thing Ben loved above every other goddamn thing in the universe. Loved more than the universe. The universe was fucking pathetic compared to how much Ben loved Her. Every single fucking thing about Her. How She smile and laughed and moved through the world. How goddamn kind and clever and perfect She was. All Her big fucking words and Her smart fucking mouth and Her sharp, beautiful features. How She was a fucking brat and a problem, and Ben would never want her any other way, because he was the luckiest fucking pussy in the world for this menace of a woman to love him back half as much as he loved Her. Lucky that She trusted him, looked at him like he was some sort of fucked up savior, and always touched him like she could never do anything better with her hands.

She was perfect. She was a fucking goddess, and every time Ben reminded Her of that she’d flush that pretty color and bury her face in his arm. Right where she goddamn belonged.

You can’t just say that, Ben-

I can say whatever the fuck I want, Sunshine. He’d press a kiss to the top of Her head, squeezing his hold on Her body. I fucking love you, and you’re a goddamn miracle. These pussies should be grateful to be in your goddamn presence.

I think you’re a little bias. She’d mumble between their heads, but Ben would hear the stumble of Her heart, feel her lean further into his body, and he’d smirk.

I don’t fucking care. He’d tangle a hand in Her hair, tugging it back so she was looking at him with wide, blown out eyes. You’re fucking perfect.

She’d smile at him, and Ben’s ribs would bloom and glow with how fucking beautiful She was. How She was all fucking his, to care for and tend to and love. For the rest of goddamn time, Ben got to fucking have Her.

You’re such a dramatic cunt, Benjamin.

He’d chuckle. You fucking love it.

And that would be the end of it. Wherever they were, Ben would find a place to fuck Her in peace, she’d cum all over him—filling the room with a million colors and dancing lights, bursting into flame and screaming his name—and Ben would make sure that she understood. Really fucking got that Ben had never been good at loving things, but loving Her was the easiest thing in the goddamn world. That he’d love Her until the world was fucking razed and scorched and She wasn’t there to love anymore.

Even then Ben would probably just fucking follow Her. That might be the only thing that one day got him. If She figured out a way to die, she wasn’t going to do it without Ben at Her side. She was alive inside of him—infinite and holy, fucking stronger and brighter than the goddamn sun—and Ben never wanted to know a life without Her again.

She’d hate the idea of Ben going just because She went. She’d shove his chest and snap that he’d need to keep living without her, because she loved him too much to want him to die. And Ben would roll his eyes, grumble an agreement, and keep fucking knowing that if they went out, they were going out together.

Everything was so fucking beautiful when Ben had Her to share it with. Without Her he’d just be an old fucking asshole, chasing Her in shadows and songs, sitting at Her grave until he worked out how to turn the stone back into the only person in the world that really fucking mattered.

It was a damn good thing they were both immortal.

The world would not fucking like it if Ben had to keep living without Her.

He’d do anything for Her. He’d burn countless worlds to ash, then rebuild them just for Her to have. He’d refuse to destroy things, because She was good and would never want anyone to be in pain in Her name. If She demanded it, he would keep living, but he’d drive himself mad trying to bring Her back.

He’d learn to raise the dead. To find wherever the fuck She’d gone and pull her back to his side, where he’d keep Her safe and happy and smiling.

Christ, he’d do anything just to make Her smile.

He’d even let Her drag him here, to this massive square building that seemed to be some weird sort of grocery store.

But Ben didn’t remember grocery stores selling TVs, or mattresses, or toys. Grocery stores didn’t sell watches. Or fucking pills and makeup, just a few aisles apart.

Where the fuck are we. He muttered between their heads, and She looked back to him with an amused grin.

You drove us here, Ben.

Because I value my goddamn life, Sunshine.

Shut up-

No. He leaned down, kissing the space between Her eyes with a grin. Tell me where we are, brat, or I’ll fuck the answer out of you.

She wrinkled Her nose at him, even as Ben heard Her heart flutter slightly. No obviously public sex, you horny old cunt-

I never said we’d fuck in public, darling. This place is fucking huge, I’d find somewhere private, and then make you all dumb and pretty on my cock. Ben winked at Her, and Christ, she was beautiful. Wide, glossy eyes and a parted mouth, already putty in Ben’s hands just from his fucking words.

We’re at Costco. She said, a little breathless between their minds. It’s a superstore.

Ben frowned. That didn’t make any damn sense, and he’d have a lot of time to fuck Her later. He needed to understand what in Christ she was talking about.

What the fuck is a superstore. Did they figure out how to shoot up buildings with V and nobody fucking told me-

She laughed, wrapping Her arms around his neck with a shake of her head. No, Ben, it’s a physically large store that sells, like, everything.

Everything.

Pretty much, yeah. She shrugged. That’s why we’re here.

Ben nodded slowly. For the house.

Exactly. She smiled, Her voice soft and teasing between their minds. Good work, Pretty Boy.

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben pulled Her half up his chest, kissing her until he got a breathy moan, and leaned back with a smirk. What do we need.

I, um… She blinked at him, her eyes a little glazed as Ben just grinned at Her. Fucking Christ, She was perfect.

Need some help there, Sunshine?

Fuck you-

Ben laughed, squeezing his hand on Her waist. No obviously public sex, darling-

Shut up. She muttered, and Ben’s grin only grew, because She tangled her hand in his and leaned further into his body at the exact same time. I made a list.

A list-

For what we need. And, She shot him a stern look, rising slightly on Her toes to hold his gaze. We’re sticking to it. No buying things we don’t need, just because you see them.

Ben frowned. Why the fuck would I get shit we don’t need-

Because you’re a child, my love.

I am not a fucking child-

Yeah, you are. She gave him a soft, teasing grin, and Ben really didn’t know how to actually be annoyed with Her. Not when She was so goddamn beautiful, and looking at him with such adoration, and felt easy and happy around his skull. You’re a massive fucking man baby, Benjamin, and you’re going to see something shiny and try to buy it.

Fucking- I’m not a goddamn pussy with no self-

She pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, half climbing up his chest and molding into his arms fucking perfectly, and he groaned. She’d given him a blowjob before they left the house—Ryan was off at school for the day, and She was a horny fucking problem—and Ben could still taste himself in Her mouth. Mixed with coffee and chocolate, and Her. Always just fucking Her, smiling against his lips and safe in his arms. He could feel the cool metal of Her wedding ring when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

They had to finish this shopping shit right now, so Ben could carry Her to the car and fuck her stupid in the back seat.

You’re my man baby, Pretty Boy. She said between their minds, and leaning back to give him a wide, perfect smile. I love you.

I love you too, Ben grunted, leaning down to kiss to Her brow. You fucking brat.

She hummed, Her smile wide and unrestrained on her beautiful face. Ready?

Ben nodded, grabbing Her hand and pressing one last kiss to Her knuckles. There was Her ring. Both of her rings. Physical fucking proof to anyone who looked that She loved Ben. Wanted him. Fucking adored him.

If She needed Ben for shopping, he’d walk with Her and do whatever she told him to. She’d know what she was doing. She always knew what She was doing, because she was a goddamn force of nature, and if Ben had a say in it, he’d make sure everyone did what she told them all the fucking time.

They didn’t—because most people were stupid fucking dumbcucks that Ben wasn’t allowed to just fucking kill—but they should. All of this post-Homelander shit would be so much easier if everyone would just fucking listen to Her.

And Ben knew how hard She was working on it. How She was calm and collected when she testified before congress and recounted all the shit that fucking pussy had done to Her, but always fell apart after, sobbing and shaking in Ben’s arms. She’d crawl over his body and bury Her face in his chest, he’d feel fucking sick, and wish he could bring Homelander back to life just to fucking kill him again. Everyone demanded too goddamn much of Her, and she always gave it because she was too fucking good, and if all She asked for was Ben to go shopping with Her, he’d do it a billion fucking times.

Anything to make Her tap her fingers because she was picking out wall colors and not because she had to explain how She’d killed Sage. Anything to make Her flush because Ben was kissing her neck in the lamp aisle and not because a bunch of old fucking pussies wanted unnecessary details about Her alleged relationship with Soldier Boy.

It wasn’t fucking alleged. They were goddamn married. They had a son and owned a house together.

A house they needed to put things in. And decorate. And make theirs. So if that was what this trip was about, Ben could fucking do it. For Her.

It started simple. They needed more furniture, they found it.

“We already have most of what we need,” She muttered, pulling Ben through the store. “It’s mostly decorations now. If you see something you like-“

“I’ll like whatever the fuck you like.”

She let out a long sigh. “That not helpful-“

Ben grunted Her name, spinning Her around in his arms and dropping his brow to Her’s.

“Ben-“

“Listen to me.” He held Her gaze, drawing firm circles in her hips. “I could give a fuck what our house looks like, as long as you like it, and there’s no goddamn blue.”

“But it’s your house too-“

“I don’t fucking care.” He grunted. “I’ve told you, Sunshine, we could be living in a fucking dumpster, and I’d be good.”

She scanned over Ben’s face, and sighed. “Can you promise you’ll at least try to find one thing you want?”

“Deal.” Ben kissed Her, dipping her slightly in his arms and keeping Her tucked to his side when they pulled apart.

For Her, he’d try to find one thing. It couldn’t be that fucking hard. This place was huge.

At first, there was nothing. She had opinions on the colors and style of their house, and Ben mostly just watched Her be perfect and smart and happy, grumbling low agreements and kissing Her until she smiled whenever he got the chance. That was what he cared about. Not whatever the fuck rustic or sleek meant. Not about what shade of green their bedroom should be, or if they should have the bird or sunset painting, or if a glass vase was better than a ceramic one.

“Just lie and pretend you have an answer-“

“No. I don’t fucking lie to you-“

“It’s a vase, Ben. I’m not going to freak out and burn the building down because you lie about liking a vase-“

“I don’t give a fuck about the vase.” He snapped. “My job is to buy you the damn flowers-“

“Well,” She raised Her brows, giving him a pointed look. “Where can I put the flowers, if I don’t have a vase?”

Ben scowled. “Smartass.”

“You love it.” She gave him a sweet smile, and he really fucking did. “Choose a vase, Pretty Boy.”

Ben rolled his eyes, glaring between the options, and decided they were both fucking stupid. “No.”

“Benjamin-“

“Get that one.” He pointed to a third, smaller one. It was the same color as Her eyes, and had little golden patterns. He didn’t hate it. “It’ll fit on the dresser.”

She paused, tapping Her fingers on Ben’s arm, and nodded slowly. “Okay.” She gave him a wider, purely fucking adoring smile, and Ben felt his whole body grow radiant. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He grumbled, kissing the side of Her head, and a dam broke inside of him.

Suddenly, Ben had a lot of fucking opinions. A red carpet would look fucking stupid in the living room, and Ben didn’t want a weird, twisting lamp on his bed stand. They’d get the shower curtain with little octopuses—octopi, Benjamin—because they made Her smile, but Ben would give MM a fucking blowjob before he used as towel with ducks on it.

“But they’re cute-“

“No.” Ben snapped, grabbing a stack on plain, monotone towels, and dumping them into the cart. “They’re fucking towels, Sunshine, they only need to dry us off.”

“I know, but look at them!” She held the ducks up, giving Ben a pretty pout that was designed to fucking kill him. “Please? Just one?”

Ben scowled. She knew what the fuck She was doing. Looking so fucking beautiful and leaning into his body and making Her sharp eyes soft just for him. He couldn’t say no to Her. He’d never really want to, anyway. Not when he grabbed the towel, tossed it in the cart, and Her smile had the same effect as fucking heroine.

“One.” He grunted. “Because I fucking love you, brat, you get one.”

She kept smiling at him, holding his face between Her hands and kissing him right on the nose. “Thank you, my love-“

Ben rolled his eyes, and dragged Her into a longer, firmer kiss. Until She was a sighing and humming and melting into him, before grabbing Her hand and tugging her to the next isle.

They got shampoo—Ben tried to pick his own out, She looked like she was going stab him or set him on fire, and he decided to let Her handle that shit—a bunch of picture frames, and a lot of useless decorative shit that they didn’t need. Small potted plants that would have to be kept out of the bedroom, a fuck ton of books that She’d probably already read, and some nice, dark green plates.

Ben took over for groceries—that might be the only place in the world where She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing—and he kept it simple. Pancakes. Ice cream. Bagels. Strawberry cream cheese. Coffee. Chocolate. Something called Lunchables that Ryan seemed to like. Apple sauce, because on worse days that was all Ben could get Her to eat, and he’d be damned if he let Homelander keep haunting them like that. Whiskey. Burger patties-

“You know there’s only three of us, right?” She was hanging off of Ben’s arm, giving him an amused look as he tossed a second bag of apples into their slightly overflowing cart. “And we can come back if we host dinner with the team.”

Ben frowned. “You told me Butcher was hosting-“

“He is. I’m saying that’s why we don’t need so many-“

“We need to be fucking prepared.” Ben muttered. “Shit happens, Sunshine, and I’ll be fucking damned if I let us go hungry-“

Ben.

He grunted Her name, glancing down to see open, obvious amusements painted over Her pretty features.

Are you fucking Cold War prepping.

Shut up.

She snorted. Holy shit, you are-

I said shut the fuck up. We need to be goddamn careful, and it’s my job to make sure you and Ryan are safe-

That’s not your job, Ben. She sighed, giving him a soft smile that lit up his whole fucking body. But, if it was, you already do an amazing job, without being an old, paranoid dinosaur. And remember, She squeezed his hand, raising Her brows slightly. Ryan’s literally invulnerable, and I fuck an atomic bomb every day. We’d be fine.

Ben scowled, but put the third bag of apples back. We fuck at least three times a day.

I know. I’m there.

You fucking start most of it-

You’re just proving my point, Pretty Boy.

Shut up.

From there, She made him go look at fucking pants and shirts. Only so She could send Neuman orders for their specialized, supe-proof clothing, but still needing Ben’s actual fucking opinions. He didn’t fucking care about clothing, and he trusted Her with his fucking life, so she ended up making most of the choices as Ben grunted in approval.

They were almost done. And this had been fun—he’d never tell Her that, but he was also pretty damn sure she knew—but Ben wanted to go the hell home. To drop all this shit in the doorway, carry Her upstairs, and fuck Her until she screamed his name so loud all the glasses in the house fucking broke.

All that was left was getting something called a Roomba.

“What fuck is that thing.” Ben muttered, frowning at the metal disc in Her hands. It just looked like fucking junk.

“It’s a robot.”

“A fucking what.”

“Robot. Robot vacuum. It’ll clean the floor-“

“That circle is going to clean the floor-“

“Yep.” She glanced at the label on the shelf. “Do you think we need max power? I don’t really know what average power would do- Ben-“

He’d grabbed the robot—fucking robot—from Her, and was examining it. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking for, only that he wasn’t finding it.

“Ben-“

“This thing is not a fucking robot.” He muttered. “Robots aren’t real.”

“They very much are real, old man.”

“There’s not a chance in fucking hell this thing can clean a floor-“

“Well, it does.” She took the circle back, placing it into the cart and giving Ben a teasing look of disbelief. “Are Roomba’s really going to be the thing that gets you about the 21st century?”

He scowled. “They’re not fucking real, Sunshine-“

“Benjamin, my love.” She moved to stand right before him, holding his gaze to Her’s with amusement dancing all over Her perfect face. She was so fucking beautiful. “You can throw nuclear energy with your brain, pick up trucks with one hand, and I’ve seen you jump off a building without flinching. We’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. When I orgasm, I make both of us hallucinate. This,” She pointed to the so-called robot. “Cannot be the thing that gets you.”

Shut up, brat. Ben rolled his eyes, kissing the back of Her hand before glaring around the rest of isle. Are all of these things fucking robots.

No, these are just normal vacuums.

Does this place have other robots.

Yeah, probably.

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Where.

———————

You’ve made a grave error.

You don’t think you’re ever going to leave this Costco.

After the Roomba, you’d shown Ben robotic litter boxes, and drones, and a smart speaker. You’re pretty sure that’s where you’d went wrong.

“This thing can hear me?”

You’d nodded, watching him with a small smile you were having a hard time fighting. To any passerby, Ben would’ve looked furious, but you know him. Know that right now, his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes meant that he was shocked and confused.

It helped that you could feel it, pricking on his skin and cloudy around his head. It was kind of adorable.

“It can hear all of us.”

He’d scowled. “Why the fuck is it listening-“

“So you can tell it what to do. Here, look- Alexa? Play Steely Dan.”

“Playing- Steely Dan.”

Low music started to fill the space, and you’d had to bite your cheek to stop the snort at Ben’s expression. He’d looked like he’d been shot. It had been adorable.

And now, two fucking hours later, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of that expression on his face. He was like a five-year-old loose in a candy shop, walking from aisle to aisle and asking you grumbling questions about various technologies and appliances. If you’re being honest, the only time you’ve seen him look close to this was whenever he’d fuck you. It was a similar expression of pure, raw joy and wonder, but devoid of all the darkened, animalistic need.

“What the fuck are these?”

“Security cameras.”

Ben frowns. “They look like fucking doorbells.”

“They’re both.” You say, resting your head against his chest, and he nods slowly.

“We should get one.”

“Ben-“

“For fucking safety, Sunshine, it would be damn insane not to have cameras when all those fucking pussy Homelander supporters are still out there-“

“I agree, my love.” You smile at him, forcing yourself not the climb into his arms as his concrete concern and resolve wrap around you. “That’s why I asked Hughie to install some already.”

Ben pauses, something hot and sore flaring on his skin. “Why the fuck did you ask Hughie.”

“He’s a tech nerd, and Annie said he’d know the best ones to get.” You kissing the underside of Ben’s jaw, humming against his skin. Next time, I’ll ask you, Benjamin. It’ll be so fucking funny to watch you try to install them.

Ben scowls, adoration flaring in his chest as the soreness eases, and you manage to walk him away from the doorbells.

Most of the afternoon has mostly become walking Ben away from things. For some stuff, it’s easy. Noise canceling headphones wouldn’t work on him. You don’t need a slightly larger TV, because your current one is perfectly fine. You don’t have the space for a hot tub.

“What about these.” He points to the third golf set, and you sigh.

“Ben, you hate golf. You’ve told me it’s a weak fucking pussy sport.”

“And it fucking is, but these things can be damn good weapons-“

“We are not buying weapons.”

“What if someone fucking breaks into the house with a gun-“

“You and Ryan are bullet proof, and I can’t be killed-“

“What if it’s a fucking supe-“

“Then you can blast them with your special sauce, and they won’t be a supe.” You wrap your arms around him, raising your brows. “We’ll be fine, Ben. No golf clubs.”

He scowls, and moves on.

From the golf clubs. And the iPad, and other security cameras, and air hockey table.

But other things are harder.

Because you make a second mistake. You agree with him that you should buy a generator, because it’s practical. But what Ben learns is that you can say yes to things. And now you have an ice cream maker, an air fryer, a truly unreasonable amount of batteries, and lawn sprinklers.

And a vibrator, because Ben had grabbed it, shoved it into the cart, and raised his brows in a silent challenge.

You’d sighed. Ben, I don’t need-

I’m going to have to travel, Sunshine-

I know, but I think I can keep it together until you get back to fuck me yourself.

Or. Ben had winked at you, and you felt his hunger spread in your gut. We could do that Zoom shit, you could imagine that thing is me. He’d lowered down, starting to leave wet, sloppy kisses up your neck. And I could tell you exactly how I’d want to fuck you. How I’d play with that perfect fucking pussy until you were begging for me, then I’d stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock and start to finger fuck you, make your squirt on my hand while you choke on my dick-

You’d buried your face in his chest, muffling your whimper in his shirt. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben-

You like that, darling? Like thinking about how I fill you up, how fucking good I pound into that pussy, how I make you cum on my cock and hands and face-

You’d agreed to buy the vibrator, but mostly because if he had kept talking, you might have climaxed just from Ben’s voice.

You should’ve left Costco an hour ago.

But Ben still doesn’t seem to be done yet.

“How the fuck are they doing that.” He mutters, poking remote and watching the LEDs shift from green to pink to yellow for the fifth time.

“Semiconductors.” You say, trying not to look like such a dopey, lovesick idiot as you smile at him. “We do have to go home soon. Ryan’s almost done with school.”

Ben grunts, grabbing one of the LED light strings and holding it up for you to see.

You take it from him, kiss his cheek—your lips barely brushing his beard before he’s moving you to his mouth, and you almost fall over—and place the box in the cart.

The total amount of money you’ve spent today is disgusting, but the grin on Ben’s face makes it worth it. All of this is so fucking worth it, because you’re happy in such an average, normal way. You’re happy because Ben’s happy—glowing and furious in your whole body—and he’s everything. He grabs you a chocolate bar in the checkout isle without you asking, and insists unloading everything into the trunk himself.

“Go wait in the car, Sunshine-“

You shake your head, trying—and failing—not to gawk at him. So goddamn handsome the broad daylight, muscles flexing as the moves bag after bag, all yours to climb like a tree when you get home-

You won’t have to get until your get home.

Ben chuckles as you stare at him, and the moment the last bag is in the car he grabs you by your wrist, tugging your back into his chest and slamming his lips down to yours. It a rough, heavy kiss that probably isn’t appropriate for a parking lot, but you can’t really bring yourself to care. Ben’s love is strong and focused and everything in the world that matters. He’s swaying you back and forth in his arms, grinning as he nips at your lower lip and tugs a little at your hair, and you don’t think you’re ever going to get enough of him. Of how forceful and bloody and devout his love is, just in broad daylight when you’ve done nothing but smile at him.

When he pulls away, neither of you bother to fully separate. Ben grins at you, and you smile at him, and when he brushes a little hair away from your face you do the only thing you can think of, and kiss him again. Softer this time, moving your hands to hold his face, allowing yourself to feel so purely safe and warm in the best place in the world. In Ben.

Because you know this will never fade. The love for him in your body that only grows more and more powerful with every passing moment. That you’ll always feel Ben’s love for you, no matter if you’re resting in heaven—caged between Ben’s body and a bed, sleeping or fucking or just smiling at him—breaking down in a hell you’ve visited countless times in life and will visit more in sleep, or standing somewhere domestic and mundane.

You have a life now where you get to be domestic and mundane. Where you get to make out with your husband in a public place, until someone rolls down their window and wolf-whistles, and you have to restrain Ben from picking up their car and throwing it across the lot. Where you get to drive home with Ben’s hand on your thigh and your head resting on his shoulder, and you get to act like that’s all your life has ever been.

It’s all it will have to be now.

For the rest of your life—which will likely be simply the rest of time—all you’ll have to do is be domestic. You don’t think you can be mundane, not when Ben grumbles something and you can feel his love spark and flare in his chest, or when you park the car and Ben carries all fifteen of your heavy bags inside at once without even a grunt. You can’t be mundane when, the moment he puts the bags down, you jump on him, he fucks you against the kitchen counter, and you burst into a flame that sets off the smoke alarm and drenches you both in the sprinklers.

But you can be domestic. You can dry off and cook dinner with Ben—like a normal husband and wife probably do—and let him wrap his body around you and kiss that spot on your neck until you give up on focusing and ride him on the floor.

You can eat with Ben and Ryan, try not to laugh as Ben works out how the ice cream maker works, and curl in Ben’s arms on your couch. Watching TV and sitting easily in the dark.

Ben can tilt your head back for a deep, slow kiss, smirking against your lips when you moan, and mutter your name like a prayer.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says, rubbing firm circles on your thigh, and you let out a long, slow breath as you flush.

“I think you abuse that word, Benjamin,” you mumble, and he shrugs.

“I don’t give a fuck. You are.” He frowns, turning you to face him in his lap. “I fucking love you, Sunshine, you’re my whole fucking world-“

I know. You smile, leaning down for another, softer kiss that makes Ben groan in your mouth and the whole world start to get a little hazy. I love you, too.

He grunts, but doesn’t bother to do his usual pushing about how you still don’t get how much he loves to you. You do get it. You can feel it, and it’s the most powerful thing in the world. Sometimes you worry Ben doesn’t understand how much you love him. How you can’t even begin to picture a world where you’d never clawed your way through blood and grime to find him. How you can feel his love and resolve and care all the time, and your own love is so eternal and vast you could probably power a universe with it.

But you’ll have all of time to fight with him about who loves who more.

Right now, everything can just be Ben and you on a couch, eating ice cream, and knowing that this—You and him, burning together—is forever.

End Note: Had to make the smart speaker an Alexa. We are in an Amazon based universe. I don’t think they sell Alexas at Costco, but we’ve established that Costco sells whatever I want it to sell. So, Alexas.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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sharklovingaquarist · 18 hours ago

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I think one of the biggest infringements on a humans non-physical rights is the desecration of identity. Therefore, women are suffering tremendously. But you never hear about that. Even statistics will be skewed in order to prioritize males because God forbid one of those matted, stinking animals experiences anything negative. Of course, our job as women is to make sure NOTHING touches them. Wahhhhhhh, male suicide.... women attempt more. Men love stats until stats prove them wrong. One statistic says males commit more and it needs no further inspection, but stats show males commit more than half of violent crime, and it's not plausible. It's not my fault males own more firearms. Im tired of the male victim mindset.

Im tired of males taking feminist rhetoric and, in such male fashion, spinning our work to say its really MALES who are hurting. Im tired of walking on eggshells in front of males and their liberal feminist dick riders when it comes to this. People act like I'm Satan for not loving the same people who are taking our right to health, even my mental health, through refusal of medication. But no one cares to ask how this is impacting women's mental health.

It has always been a fact that in a heterosexual relationship, the dynamic has the woman serving the males' needs. Be it excusing a man lashing out at his wife who is battling cancer or a man telling his wife, of whom he is expecting a child with, that he won't "look down there" while shes in excruciating pain. A man who then refuses to touch his wife after their child is born. "He's probably stressed." "Men dont handle that stuff well." It has to have them at the center for it to be considered true emotion, and that is the irony.

I experience this with my father. He can't remember the simplest things about me, but he's "just not doing well mentally... Okay??? Me neither? That's why all of these studies surround shit like their inability to communicate and being lonely.

Their emotional well-being is not womens issue. They'll do studies on how men lose their emotional support... but what about women. How many women felt supported emotionally by husbands? Because last time I checked, men were asking wives for sex a day after enduring childbirth. Men were leaving wives bleeding after their fetus naturally aborted because they "were afraid of the blood." Men were still sitting watching football while their wife, who was 8 months pregnant, was cooking and cleaning dishes. Men have always made their happiness about their personal well-being. Women derived happiness from the people around them thriving

Men can't cry? Oh, poor babies. They can't cry or their manhood, their most precious manhood, will be threatened. Unfortunately, I can not cry either, or else I'm hysterical, but I understand how that's not as pressing as your ego. A mans pride is threatened by vulnerability in some rare cases, compared to a woman's sanity.

When a male cries in grief he is confronted with belief. Its made human and genuine. When a woman cries in grief, it's her animal maternal instincts pushing through, and people rush to infantilize her for 3 seconds before forgetting what she was even sad over. Losing my Peryite recently has made me really recognize this pattern

If you're a man and get offended over this, stop and think for one second. Did I invalidate your emotions, or did I call out the fact that you attach every sentient thought you have to being a male? Men can have issues, but not because they're males. I hope yall soon learn that something doesn't have to be designated "boys only" in order for it to be genuine, I know that's what you've been taught.

I know I said I'd do a deep dive into emotions, and I kinda did now. I was going to combine how media proves the male emotion craze bullshit wrong, but I kind of separated them into two posts.

#radical feminism #feminism #womens rights #radblr #abortion #radical feminist safe #pro choice #radical feminists do interact #radical feminist community #radical feminst #mens issues #mens health

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4rticbolt · 22 hours ago

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Anxieties |Master-List|

!Multiple parts! <1 (Here)>

Platonic, Fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, happy ending trust, 1st/2nd POV, y'all I yapped, sappy, wise crew I guess, tried to make it cannon to their character

Characters in this chapter: Robin, Sanji, Brook

!TW Anxiety/Panic Attacks!

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

|Intro warning|

As someone who struggles with anxiety, it is hard. Like...very hard. My greatest wishes go out to the people who struggle with it, and obviously those who don't! Regardless we're all just human trying to get by.

And I am proud of y'all... though that sounds weird coming from a stranger on the internet who knows nothing about you... it's true. I really do mean it. Things are just getting tough, and they probably will continue to, so all you can do in the time being is just hang in there!

Especially when your anxiety is being a bitch. Which isn't always easy.

It's a struggle. And you are very strong for dealing with it--even if not.

Just take it easy on yourself, and make sure to hydrate and grab a snack! A small change goes a long way.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the Strawhat Crew, anxiety is probably a sensitive topic, though it isn’t uncommon. It’d never be overlooked or ignored, given the crew has their own struggles.

I mean, take one good look at their character, ONE good look at their character and tell me they don’t have some kind of crippling fear...

The Straw hats would always be incredibly understanding with you, more so than others—but they’d would know how it feels, and they’d help you in their own lovable way.

There is NO difference if you’re a man or woman, or girl or guy or whatever you want to call yourself, because everyone is equal.

Everyone deserves to be treated with the same help AND respect another can get.

Which the Straw hats would strictly stand by, given they're morals, and not to mention they are literally sweethearts...

And at first, you might not think of it that way. You'd obviously trust them, but your anxiety was different. It felt…burdening. Knowing you're safe and loved, but it’d still eat at you.

However, the crew would see that as they are all emotionally intelligent, so it’s pretty much impossible to keep something from them like that. Even if some are more dense than others. Cough cough emotionally constipated.

Regardless, Robin was the first to figure it out. She’d caught your anxious mannerisms out of the corner of her eye. The way your knee would restlessely bounce, the fidgeting, the nervous stumbling... she knew.

She never caught it in the act, but she had always been your silent support.

Robin is more of the gentle type—motherly if anything as she had always been the person to quietly hold your hand, pull you aside, or ground you with her soothing words.

Reminding you there was always someone there.

No matter where or why you'd panic, she wouldn't judge you. The thought could have never possibly crossed her mind.

And it was no different when she'd come across your trembling form, leaning against the deep red seats in the aquarium bar—later into the night.

. . .

“____?” Robin asked quietly, knocking on the door to attempt to alert you of her company. Her heart wrenched at the sight of your tear streaked face, bathed in the blue light from the tank.

Your skin was discolored, even more exposed and vulnerable in the subdued lighting—struggling to catch a damned breath; limbs sludge as a result.

You felt as though everything weighed you down, converting you into something you'd hate to recognize. The familiar feeling of everything crashing atop you, reminding you no matter how much anything changed—you were still you.

Robin repeated your name, leaving it echo louder throughout the room, snapping you out of your daze. The storminess of everything filtered away, replaced by a sharp jolt to your heart as she'd startled you.

The archeologist quietly apologized, carefully stepping into the room waiting for a sign to continue forward. Her mind was alert, troubled by whatever seemed to have plagued you—reducing you to this. Diminishing your loved smile into a water work of tears.

Having to watch the way your hands dug into your sides, embarrassingly turning away from her—it was unfair. It was cruel to think someone as kind as you suffered so much.

Even if it was life, it seemed it’d been especially hard on you

Robin slowly came to your side, letting you adjust as she placed a comforting hand to your back, pulling you in for a hug.

She wasn’t necessarily sure what to say, or what to comfort you with, but she’d try. She had too.

She couldn’t bare seeing you this way.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m right here.” Robin whispered, letting her arms tighten around you, hoping to aid your distress.

You practically melted into her touch, surrendering yourself. Everything had been tormenting you for the last hour—and you couldn't bare it any longer.

"I'm sorry," you choked, your breath hitching as your chest tremored.

“Don't be, there's nothing to apologize for, you've done nothing wrong." She hummed, her hand gently rubbing into your back.

"Just breathe ____, you’re okay.”

Robin let you rest in her arms however long you needed. No matter the hour, no matter the cause, she was there for you. She didn't leave you to your silence for a moment, as she knew the feeling of it. The loneliness, the memories, the pain...

She always chose to look out for you, as you were her dearest crew-mate. Her dearest friend, and dearest family.

•-•

Sanji and Brook were the next to see it in action.

A pair you wouldn't think would go together, but does. They were a underrated duo to say in the least, both of course perverts—but you knew they meant well. And you know that hat they say: great minds think alike.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse idiots use.

However, Sanji was surprisingly well with you. He wouldn’t bombard you with his lovey dovey tendencies, nor mix his flirty temptations with your troubles. He was always incredibly gentle with you, as your state would affect him greatly.

He could always empathize with you, given his own cumbersome experiences.

Sanji often tended to read you when in distress, picking up on your small cues, or just having a hunch. He might not exactly know what caused it, but he could sure as hell sense it, much like the others do.

It's just a feeling he had, a slight pinch in his skin, a reminder. A reminder of how protective he could be with you and his crew.

He’d be the type to assure you, tell you it wasn't a burden to reach out, and depending on your preferences, he would hold you close.

Sanji would always ask you if you needed anything, and if you did—without hesitation he’d get it for you. The cook would do anything for the ones he loved, much more cherished. Especially when it came to you, someone who hit a little too close to home.

Now, when Brook came into the knowledge of your anxiety, it’d kinda just clicked for him. The gears in his skull would comically grind and turn—leaving a solemn feeling to wash over him.

He would silently realize why you acted the way you did, why you had your questionable habits, and why you had your required ‘alone time.’ And he'd understand all of it.

He’d gone through the feeling of it for more than 50 years alone. So he could sympathize, even if he didn’t know what you went through—what mattered now, was helping you out if it.

The skeleton had always been fond of you, as he was with everyone, but this was under different circumstances. It was at your own expense, and he quickly wanted to help you.

Which he did, as Brook gave out surprisingly good advice as well as an easy means for distractions.

From liners of comedic relief to your favorite tune—he'd have your back. Even if he didn't have his.

His musical talent would be a blessing in the frantic moment, and the calming notes of his violin eased your inner torment. He brought a calm to your storm, and his corny jokes never failed to make you laugh—so you had nothing to lose if you'd ever gone to him. Brook would always be more than happy to support you.

•-•

Nevertheless, even with the exception of their help it never felt like enough, your anxiety simply wouldn’t budge. It was stubborn, and it tormented you.

You were triggered off an on and it was set off by the littlest of things, amplified to the point of bringing yourself down. The constant stress weighed, and it frustrated you to no end. Ultimately making you feeling like a bigger burden, so you simply avoided yourself. And the others around you.

When in need, you stopped going to Robin as you tried to just shut it off completely. You didn’t mean to, but you tended to push away the ones you loved away, further adding to your apprehensions.

And as a result; it took you down.

It’d been late at night when you had another panic attack, left exhausted on the kitchen floor, chest heaving as you quietly cried. You’d yet again given up, far too weak and tired to trek back to your room. So you succumbed to your exhaustion there, deciding it was a good place to sleep it off.

Which you later found out it wasn’t, but you were too groggy to care.

•-•

A light quietly flickered on in the un-assumed room, and Sanji casually walked in to prep breakfast. Accompanied by the joyful company of brook while the two had light talk, speaking of an island that was soon to come up based off Nami’s observations. Which had everyone in high hopes and in dire needs since Luffy had raided the kitchen the night before.

Brook casually leaned against the kitchen’s sidewall, letting out a dramatic yawn as he reached down to play his violin, a peaceable tune filling the room.

"I feel as if today will be…special," He hummed, mindlessly scanning the room, opting to watch cook as he prepared the much needed morning coffee.

"Mm, and why is that?"

"I can feel it in my bones."

"Of course you can." Sanji sighed, bringing the water to a boil as he grabbed some ground coffee, adding in the essential ingredients.

"The ratio has to be perfect or Robin's coffee won't taste right." He muttered, not bothering to question the musician’s gaze.

“Hah quite so, the dedication of a true chef! Do you think she notices your efforts?" Brook replied, casually looking up to the cook.

“. . .” Sanji’s felt his eye twitch, glaring up to Brook—but something was caught in the corner of his eye.

"I'll take that as a maybe then yohoho!" He laughed, muttering something incoherent about losing his breakfast.

Sanji only ignored him, focusing his attention to the cartoony pair of socks that lied awkwardly behind a chair’s legs.

“Looks like someone camped out in here…” he turned off the stove, opting to check on the sleeping figure.

“What? Who? Where?” Brook blurted, immediately scanning the room. He jumped when he finally spotted someone’s feet, letting out a high-pitched girlish scream as they twitched. His hand clasped over his ‘heart’ and he quickly hid behind the kitchen’s service hatch, peeking through.

Ironically enough Brook’s mind flickered to the thought of a zombie, or even worse—a ghost.

“Shh!” Sanji hissed, flipping around to send the man another glare, “Dammit don’t go waking up the whole ship, It’s probably just Luffy or something—the idiots probably ‘starved’ by now.” He drug a hand down his face, walking around the table towards your unsuspecting form.

He knew he couldn’t full-proof it was Luffy—given those ridiculous socks he’d caught a glimpse of, as he knew deep down his idiot of a captain barely ever wore socks—always raw dogging it in those god awful shabby sandles.

So when his gaze finally land on you, he paused. He suspected it, but it uneased him to no end, and his irritation vanished completly replaced by a creeping sense of worry.

“____?!”

Sanji knew you never came to the kitchen this early—you always slept like a rock in your room, and you didn’t show yourself till late afternoon. If they were lucky.

Another holler finally seemed to stir you awake, and you let out a sleepy groan sorely rolling to your back to meet their concerned faces.

You could see Sanji’s mouths moving, but you couldn't bother to hear his words as they were far too faint, and you were much too tired to care. It felt painfully early, and you'd maybe gotten a few hours of sleep.

Reaching your arms over your eyes, you wiped away any crispy tears that had dried from the hours before.

“S’too bright,” You mumbled, rolling back to your side as you hid your expression in your arms. You felt like a slug, so slow and grimy, and you’d slept at an awkward angle which killed your back.

“____? Are you alright? Why are you up so early?” Brook leaned over you, his worry growing as more time without answers went by. This wasn’t necessarily a normal occurrence for you, as he didn't often see you this... peachy.

And the two hadn’t missed the way it’d been evident you had been crying—given the puffiness in your eyes and the faint tear marks.

“More importantly why are you asleep on the floor in MY kitchen huh? What’s gotten into you,” Sanji gently patted your shoulder as he tried to get your attention.

"Nothing," You muffled, regretting not forcing yourself to walk back to your room last night.

"It doesn't seem like nothing." He chided, knowing you were going to be stubborn about this. However, he'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you.

"I'm just tired," you excused, knowing it was a lame throw, but you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t really want to talk about—it was the same ol’ same ol’, and you only felt it burden them the more it occurred. And knowing the two, you knew they could already tell something was up, and exactly what.

Though roughly enough it had to get worse as an awkward silence washed over, and without your knowledge—Sanji and Brook shared a look.

You heard one of them let out a sigh and Brook suddenly laid down on the floor beside you, his bones clunking against the floor.

"Is the floor really that comfy?”

Sanji hummed, "Must be," he agreed, coming to a causal sit at the other side of you, leaning against the table's leg.

There actions were kind, though for some reason it made your eyes water. You hesitated to say anything—or even move, you didn't really know what to do now. How to continue, or what words to say, but deep down you knew they only wanted to be there for you, and that was enough to try. It always was, and the thought of knowing someone was confirmed in stone to be there for you, it was all anyone could ask for.

You let out a soft sniffle, leaning up to sit with a knee against your chest as you wiped your oncoming tears with your sleeves.

"Yeah, it's pretty comfy," you murmured, cursing the way it weakly came out and broke.

"Could use a few blankets though," Brook adjusted, also coming to a sit as he let out his classic laugh beside you.

"Mm, let's just stick to our own beds for now," you could hear Sanji grimace, before he gently placed his hand on your head, easing your tears by far. He softly patted your hair before his hand trailed off and he offered for you to stand.

"How about I get you something to eat or drink?” He waited, but you didn’t reply as you didn’t feel in the mood to take anything in. You felt sick enough as is to just throw it up.

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, sorry Sanji,” you said quietly, lowering your gaze as you felt more tears surface.

“That’s okay, you can always snack later,” Brook assured.

“If there’s anything left of course,”

“There will be.” Sanji glared, kneeling beside you again—knowing it’d take a little more than a nudge or simple ask.

“____.”

. . .

Silence washed over the three of you again and you could only shrink further in on yourself. You gently shook your head hiding your face in your arms.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to rely on us, you know that don’t you?” He affirmed, patiently waiting for you. His gaze softened as Brook silently watched, and could only agree—he couldn’t have said it better himself.

“He’s right you know, we’re here for you, we’ll always be.”

Your shoulder’s shook, and you felt your lips tremble, and you could only nod your head in response.

“You don’t have to hide you know.”

“I know that.” Your voice broke.

. . .

“Then why do you?” Brook wondered. He knew you struggled, but not to this extent. You were always so quiet about your troubles, and he wished you wouldn’t feel the need to keep them at bay.

“B-because I—I don’t know. I just, it feels like I’m too much.” You struggled out, “It won’t stop sometimes and everything just feels so constant, I cant get ahold of myself and I feel like I’m burdening you all with it.”

“What? How could you ever burden us with that?”

“Oh ____ ,”

You finally lifted your head, tears streaming down your face as you frustratingly wiped them away, “It’s just never ending, and no matter what I do, or what anyone else might—it still hurts me. Everything feels—just so intense. I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels so weird, and I can’t ever fucking stop it.”

. . .

Brook leaned forward slightly, his skeletal fingers resting lightly on his knees as he looked at you with a rare solemnity. “____ ,” he began softly, “do you know what makes a symphony truly remarkable?”

You sniffled, shaking your head as your eyes continued to stream, silently waiting for him to continue.

“It’s not the constant perfect harmony,” Brook said, his voice unusually tender. “It’s the ups and downs, the quiet moments, the dissonance that resolves into beauty. The silences between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Without them, the music would be overwhelming—chaotic.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You understood his metaphor, but regardless you didn’t feel entirely different, and you lowered your gaze letting tears spill into your hands.

“And life, ____ ,” Brook continued, “is no different. Sometimes, the melody feels too fast, too loud, like you can’t catch your breath. But do you know what makes it bearable?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “What?”

Brook leaned closer, his empty sockets meeting her teary eyes. “The orchestra,” he said gently. “A symphony isn’t carried by one instrument. When your melody falters, the others step in to support you. The violins soften when you’re tired. The percussion steadies you when you’re overwhelmed. Together, we make something beautiful—even when the song feels messy or broken.”

“But it feels like I’m always off-key,” you whispered, “Like I’m dragging everyone down.”

From your other side, Sanji’s calm voice interjected, breaking through your anguish.

“____ ,” he said firmly, “Even if your rhythm falters, we’ll match it. We’re not here to judge the song you’re playing. We’re here to play it with you.”

Brook nodded, his hand gently tapping the floor as though playing an imaginary tune. “That’s right. And no matter how many times you lose the beat, we’ll be here to guide you back. Even dissonance has its place in a masterpiece, ____. It doesn’t make the music less beautiful—it makes it human.”

Your tears finally came to a stop, for the first time in a while—a glimmer of relief shown through your expression. You swallowed hard, your voice shaky but audible. “But I don’t want to ruin the song.”

“You could never ruin it,” Sanji said with a soft smile. “You make it better just by being part of it.”

Brook sighed, coming to a stand as his tone lightened with a small laugh, “And if you ever need a duet partner, I’ll always have time for an encore. Yohoho!”

You smiled, wiping the remnants of your late tears chuckling a bit, feeling much lighter.

Sanji then came back to a stand, gently pulling you up with him, “I’m not a musician but I will gladly be listen to you anytime.”

“Yohoho good, now I need some tea, my throats feeling rather dry.”

“Oh get it yourself!” Sanji snapped, averting his attention from you--to yet again send the skeleton a glare. And for once, you felt as ease, it felt...easy to breathe, not forced--but casual. And you knew you'd be okay, because you had them. As the two would always be there for you--even if you were stubborn.

You could never be a burden for your struggles, and they'd always welcome you with open arms. You just hoped you could uphold that front and be true to yourself--to be true to them. To trust the crew and let a bit loose.

Though, even if you didn't it'd be okay. Because being on the straw hat crew wouldn't mean specifically to be strong, but to stick together, to help each other through the thick and thin of life, to have adventures, and live life to its fullest. To live and survive to achieve dreams--to hang in there, and push through and to protect each other no matter what.

#uiSpotify #Spotify #straw hat pirates #nico robin #nico robin x reader #sanji x reader #brook x reader #straw hats x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece x reader #platonic relationships #luffy x reader #usopp x reader #nami x reader #op fanfic #zoro roronoa x y/n

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sassysnakedemon · 3 days ago

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Sorry - it's been a while

So, I've been missing for a while. I had to take a break from socials of all kinds (although, tbh, I really only have tumblr and Ao3). There's been a lot of stuff happening. Trump getting re-elected was just the first brick in the wall (enjoy the Pink Floyd reference, if you like). I've been going through deep clinical depression, which is not unusual for me, but a real stop sign for social activity. I can cope, but only with a very basic amount of social activity, which includes 'real' relationships only, as those make my paycheck come through, where social media relationships do not put ramen on my table.

This sounds bleak, but on the plus side, prioritizing my real world activities has netted me a side gig that pays a hundo an hour for teaching the elderly to play the ukulele. That sounds like a joke, but it really isn't! And it's uniquely fun!!

I've also had to divest all of my investments that were made in the US, and transfer the funds to my bank up here in Canada - that took several days, and I was making sure to make it happen before the Inauguration took place. Luckily, I was able to make that happen, but I have a bunch of work to do now to make sure I can make some good investments in Canada instead. I would surely love to invest so properly that I actually become wealthy, and then I can start giving back in a really big way to the various communities that I so desperately want to support. But that's kinda first world problems, so I understand if you don't care about that! (I mean, my real dream is to become like Michael Sheen and just give up everything to help the people around me, and only keep that which I really need to live - unfortunately, with inflation and everything, what I have now is barely what I need to live for the next couple of years - and again, first world problems, but I have some plans - that don't include crypto - that might actually make it possible for me to turn what little I have into something big that could actually be life changing for the world around me)

On a far more personal note, I've finally made the decision (at the ripe old age of almost 48) to finally transition to male. I wanted to, like 30 years ago, but the LGB community was really unfair to trans people back then, so I spent the last almost 30 years trying so hard to be femme, when that's not what I am. I'm going for top surgery, as soon as I can lose enough weight to make it look good (I'm not enough overweight to have a problem with surgery, but enough that I wouldn't be happy with the results), and then we're on the road. If anyone wonders, my name now is Ezra - partly a cultural thing, and partly a Good Omens fan thing (if you know, you know), and I've gotten approval from everyone - friends, mother (and that was the hardest one, friends were all like 'yeah, we knew', but mom is a bit difficult) and best of all, my husband, who said 'I'm not much of a boob man anyway' in answer to my revelation. He also said that he couldn't live without me, no matter who, or what I was. That's something special right there! The plus is that I would be a gay man after transition anyway - never been really attracted to women in the first place, just didn't want to be one. So, I'm still wildly attracted to my husband of 20 years (this year in November - on Guy Fawkes Day, no less), but now I'm coming at the attraction as the man I've always been, rather than the woman I've been cosplaying for way too long. That's something, and it's been a big thing eating at my mind and soul for a long time. It's been keeping me from being completely open with everyone, and I apologize for that. But I had to wrestle with this particular demon one last time before I could rejoin the world.

I've also had walking pneumonia for the last month and a half, which does NOT make it easy to do anything, so I've been avoiding anything which isn't strictly necessary to do. I'm starting to recover though, so I will try harder now to rejoin 'all y'all', to make an appropriate Texasism, as I lived there for enough time to pick up the local jargon.

Suffice it to say that I will try harder to be a better friend to the friends I've made here, but give me a minute - I'm still finding my feet. And I've had a bit of trouble with the GO fandom, as I am finding it hard right now to hyper-focus on it when I've got so much else going on.

Can I say that the world sucks right now? Can I say to all of my friends here, and all of the friends that I'm yet to make, that I feel you, and will protect you? I am really feeling a sort of way, and it's hard to deal with. I wish the troubles were over, and that we could all sing together in fields of green - that we could love each other, even when we don't always agree. I would give anything, including the blood in my veins, for that future.

Sorry for the ramble - meds are partly to blame, but so is my depression - and my planning for a future I cannot see. I want to be engaged, but I'm finding it difficult. I want to be present for you, but that may not always be possible. I'm trying though, and I haven't forgotten any of the friendships I've made here - I'm just trying to be a better version of me before I come back and interact with everyone again!

@missunderstoodlyrics, @naturallyteal, @isiaiowin, @ilikeblue, @inezrable, @copperplatebeech,@phoen1xr0se, @di-42

#I'm okay #just not right now #trying though!#LGBTQIA++#if I didn't include you in the ats I'm sorry - just not doing as well as I would want to right now

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aemondapologistfrfr · 16 hours ago

Text

I See You As You Are - Pt6

aemond x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Aemond take your pregnancy step by step. Your love continues to grow as you both prepare to welcome your child into the world.

Warnings: 18+ swearing(aeg has dialogue lmfao), time skips so we can enjoy loving and devoted aemond, preg!reader, idk it gets a little angsty but like in the best ways!!, desperate kisses fr, humping, fingering, p in v, birth scene - it’s nothing too crazy or descriptive

Authors Note: sometimes this is just so sickeningly sweet i feel like im on my fucking death bed ok!!!! i love them! i love their letters! i love their love! i just UGH ❗️- in my mind aemond and aegon actually get to be brothers and be happy AND real siblings like idc!! i hated my sister growing up and now that’s actually my best friend - ok yap done continue on w ur story

Word Count: 9.7k - no i will never be chill w this series or this man next question pls

ᓚᘏᗢ

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You’ve heard of the different signs that confirm a woman is carrying a child but you haven’t experienced any of them thus far. The mornings have remained the same and you can’t help but wake with a furrowed brow every morning. What if you’re doing something wrong? What if you can’t have a child? What then? Will Aemond get rid of you? Your chest tightens and you feel tears start to slip down your face.

You untangle from Aemond and slowly make your way to the bathing chambers not to wake him from your sobs. You look at your red cheeks in the mirror that seem more puffy than normal and bury your head in your hands. As your sobs continue to wash through you, you sink to the floor and wrap your arms around yourself as you lean against the wall.

But why would your moon blood be late? It’s been well over a month now, almost nearing two. You unwrap your arms and bring your hands to your stomach and look down upon it. “Please.” you softly plead as more tears fall down your face. “Please, I just want to have a child. I’d be content with even just one, please.” you look up at the ceiling hoping the Gods can hear you through the stone.

“Please.” you whisper before pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging yourself as you cry.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond kneels before you, pulling you into his arms. “Tell me.” he brings a hand to the back of your head as you curl in closer.

“What if I can’t carry a child?” you sob into his chest. “Other women say they get sick in the morning and they get sore but,” you hiccup. “I just want to carry our child. What if..” your sobs start anew.

“Shh, shh,” he smooths your hair, holding you closer. He wishes he could tell you everything will be perfectly fine but he knows nothing of what women go through when they carry a child. “Would you like to see the maester?” he asks softly and you nod your head.

“Will you..” shakes rock through your body. “Will you leave me? Will you find another?” your fingers dig into his back. “Aemond, I’m sorry. I’m not a good wife. I’m not good en-

“Enough of this talk.” he lifts you off of the ground.

“I’m sorry.” you're still crying as you bury your head into his neck. “Please don’t leave me. Please.” he tries to set you on the bed but you won’t let go. “I’m scared that if you let go you’ll never touch me again.” your breathing deepens even more as you cling against him.

“I will do no such thing.” he sits back on the bed and continues to hold you against him. “You’re mine and I would neve replace you with another. Let me tell our guard to collect the maester and we’ll get dressed and wait here for him.” he rubs your back as you shake your head.

“I’m scared.” you whisper.

“I will be brave for the both of us.” he hums. “I will be back in just a minute.” his brows furrow at your whine and he wishes he could be more helpful to you. “I love you very much. I will never leave you. If the Gods don’t grant us children then so be it.” your sobs start anew and his eye widens.

“I want a child, Aemond. I want our child. I’ll do anything. Gods please,” he watches your damped red face look towards the ceiling as you plead. “I’ll be a good mother. I’ll treat them so very well. I’ll raise them to be fine Princes and Princesses.” you hiccup. “Please,” his heart is slowly cracking at your sobs and he walks to the wardrobe to dress quickly and bring you a dress to slip on.

Aemond scoops you up in his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck still softly crying. His guard looks at him in alarm and he shakes his head once before starting down the hall to the maesters tower. He carries you up the stairs listening to you sniffle and tries to settle his racing mind. You softly thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he holds you tighter.

“I love you.” you whisper and he smiles, feeling your lips press against his neck.

“I love you.” he hums softly, rubbing your back as he comes to a stop in front of the maesters doors. “May I set you down?” you nod. Once you’re on the ground you look up at him with your red eyes and he cups your cheeks. “No matter what he has to say, you are my wife and I am your husband from now until the end of time.” he nods and swiftly wipes away your tears that slowly fall.

“Okay.” you whisper as he pushes the door open for you both.

“What can I do for you?” the grand maester rises from the table and looks at Aemond and then sees you peer around his back. “Are you alright?” his eyes widen taking in your tear stained cheeks.

“We are.. unsure if she’s with child and would like your opinion.” Aemond coaxes you to come out and you cling onto his arm.

“Of course.” he smiles and nods you both to the table where you both take a chair. “Let’s start with when your last moon blood was.” he offers you a comforting smile as Aemond grabs onto your hand.

“Almost two moons ago.” your voice small as you blink across the table at the man.

“From that alone I’m almost certain. Do you have any other symptoms?” he looks between you and Aemond.

“No.” you shake your head feeling your tears start anew.

“She’s been a bit more emotional than normal.” Aemond whispers and you turn to him with a scrunched face. “It’s okay.” he nods at you. “I do not mind. I’m just trying to give the maester as much information as we have.” he offers you a small smile.

“Anything else you’ve noticed?” the maester keeps his voice soft. “Could I make you some tea?” he nods at you with an assuring smile.

“Please.” you scoot closer to Aemond.

“Her breasts,” you gasp, squeezing Aemonds hand.

“I have heard much, much worse.” the maester turns to you trying to offer you comfort. He starts to pour the water. “Go on.” he nods to Aemond.

“They seem to be more tender and sensitive.” you feel as if your cheeks are on fire at Aemonds soft words.

“That is a symptom of note.” the maester nods at you with a smile. “Just because you aren’t exhibiting the main symptoms doesn’t mean there is a cause for concern.” he sets the cup down in front of you.

“Thank you.” you bring the cup to your lips.

“Is there anything else you’ve noticed?” the maester turns back to Aemond once he sees you relax into the chair.

“A larger desire for sweets.” he bites his lip as you turn your head to him quickly.

“And what is wrong with that?” you purse your lips.

“Nothing is wrong with that.” he reaches for your hand with a smile.

“Count yourself lucky that your symptoms are sensitivity and having a desire for sweets.” the maester chuckles. “Hopefully Aemond will be mindful of your needs. I would like for you both to come see me if there are any changes. If not I'd like to check in with you in a month.” he looks between the both of you.

“Do you think she is carrying a child?” Aemond needs to hear the maester confirm his suspicions and also help put you at ease.

“From everything you both have shared with me, yes, I believe you’re carrying a child.” he nods and a smile spreads across your face.

“Really?” you squeeze Aemonds hand.

“I believe so.” he nods.

“See.” Aemond rubs his thumb against your hand. “There is nothing to worry about.” he presses his lips to the back of your hand.

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4 months pregnant

Aemond lays next to you in bed softly brushing back your hair as you sleep soundly. His other hand is resting on your growing bump and he can’t bring himself to leave your side for more than an hour. He’s been dressed for some time now but he couldn’t help but crawl back into bed with you. He knows he must answer Aegon’s summons or he’ll barge in here and wake you. He presses his lips to your forehead before leaving your shared chambers.

He lightly grips your dagger at his hip to calm his nerves. He doesn’t know what Aegon could possibly want but he hopes this is quick. He stops before the double doors and walks into his chambers. His eye darts around the room at the mess and finds Aegon nursing a cup of wine at his table.

“Finally,” Aegon sighs, motioning for Aemond to sit. “I thought I would have to get your guard to drag you out.” he chuckles.

“What is it?” Aemond stands at the end of the table.

“Can you just sit?” he drawls.

“For what purpose?” Aemond raises his brow.

“So I can talk with you. My Gods,” Aegon shakes his head. “Must I command you?” he looks up at him exasperated.

“Then speak.” Aemond sighs, taking a seat.

“I wanted to congratulate you. You truly seem to love your wife and now she’s with child.” he nods with a smile and Aemond stiffens, not used to a casual conversation.

“I do love her.” Aemond nods his head and Aegon sighs at the curtness.

“Look, I know I was a cunt to you growing up,” Aemond stares at him. “And I guess I still am but I mean it out of love.” Aegon offers a lopsided grin. “And I know it was kind of fucked up about the dragon thing.” Aemond clenches his fist debating on offering his new dagger its first blood. “Dreamfyre laid a clutch and you can have your pick for your child.” Aemond freezes at his words.

“What?” Aemond shakes his head, unbelieving.

“I’m serious.” Aegon nods his head. “We can go down to the pits whenever you please. Or if you want it to be a private affair, I understand.” Aemond searches Aegon's face.

“You mean this? Truly?” Aemond hears his heart thundering in his ears. “Do not jest with me about this.”

“I do, brother.” Aegon leans back in his chair with his wine. “Be happy.” he raises the cup. “The keepers will help you whenever you please.” Aemond nods once as his brow scrunches.

“I-” Aemond shakes his head. “Thank you.” he starts to stand from the chair.

“Running away already?” Aegon stands as he finishes his cup.

“I don’t like being away from her.” his voice soft. “I am.. grateful for you offering my child an egg.” Aemond takes in Aegon's grin and sighs. “May I leave?” he drags his eye to Aegon.

“Don’t let me keep you waiting.” Aegon chuckles and waves him off.

The second Aemond is on the other side of the doors he stops and shakes his head. He never imagined Aegon would offer him such a gift. An egg for his child. He had been so terrified of his child having to go through what he did. A smile starts to form on his face and he makes a straight line for you. As he walks up the stairs his heart stops when he hears your soft sniffles. He takes the steps two at a time and when he reaches the top he finds you curled in the blankets hugging his pillow.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you into his arms.

“Where did you go?” you look up at him.

“Aegon had called for me, I’m sorry.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m here now.” you bury your head into his neck.

“I wish to see you.” you press your lips to his neck.

“Then sit back and look at me.” he chuckles softly. You pull back with a small scowl but your features soften as you start to crawl into his lap. Your lips press against his and he smiles wrapping his arms around you. “Are you looking at me with your lips?” he chuckles against your lips.

“Mhm,” you sigh. “You usually wake me up with kisses and you weren’t here.” your hands move to the back of his neck and slide into his hair. “I wish to see you.” you press your lips against his.

“Better?” he chuckles, pulling back from your lips. You look up at him with swollen lips and heaving chest.

“All of you.” he feels your fingers brush against the back of his eyepatch strap. “Please,” he nods at your soft tone. “Thank you.” you slowly pull it off and discard it on the bed. “My Gods you are so handsome.” you look at him with lidded eyes. “Take me, please, Aemond please,” you press yourself against him.

“Take you? Your tears haven’t even dried yet.” he cups your face and he groans lowly as you roll your hips in his lap.

“Please.” you pant starting to pull your night dress off. “Please Aemond,” he leans back and looks at you desperately rocking against him.

“Lay back.” his hands softly dig into your waist.

“No,” you shake your head. “Like this.” you whine pulling at the laces on his trousers. He grunts when you push your hands into his trousers.

“Just let-” he closes his eye as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Please,” you whimper, pressing your lips on his neck as you slowly pump him.

“Then let me lay back at least.” he pants, nodding his head.

“Take off your clothes.” you sit back and pull up his tunic and jerkin at once. He watches you with parted lips as you sit back to pull his trousers down. “Aemond.” you whine when he's still not pulling off his clothes.

“Yeah.” he nods quickly and pulls his clothes off. He sits back against the headboard and you're climbing in his lap the next second. “You are so very beautiful like this.” he looks at you with devotion.

“Touch me.” his hands are on your breasts the next moment. He dips his mouth down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. “Mm, please,” you whine grinding down onto his cock. He groans against your chest as you move faster. He kisses across to your other nipple and takes it into his mouth softly jerking his hips up into you.

“I need to be inside you.” he pulls back and looks up at you.

“Yes.” you nod your head quickly. He lifts your hips and lines himself up before slowly sliding you down onto him. “Aemond,” you gasp.

Aemonds breath is knocked from his chest at the feeling of you sitting on his cock. The way your walls hug him has his fingers digging into your hips. “Look at you.” his hands move to spread across your growing stomach. He continues to move them up and cups your breasts. “I love how sensitive these are.” he brushes his fingers against the hardened buds feeling you tremble.

“I want your mouth,” you pant and he goes for your lips but you whine. “No, down here.” he groans as you grab his cheeks and bring him back down to your nipples. “Yes,” you start to slowly move up and down, holding onto his shoulders.

His tongue lashes against your nipple as whimpers spill from your lips. He jerks his hips up with yours, letting his eye close as he loses himself to you. You cradle the back of his head as you move against him letting out a soft cry when he grazes his teeth against the peak. One of his hands rests on your lower back helping grind you against him while the other softly kneads into your other breast. His fingers roll the bud and you curl over him feeling your pleasure coil.

“Aemond,” you gasp as he starts to jerk his hips faster listening to your high pitched whimpers. “Yes, I’m I-” you cling against him as you fall apart around him. He presses you against his chest as he fills you a moment later.

“We should add that to our morning routine.” he pulls back from your chest and looks at you with red lips and you nod quickly.

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5 months pregnant

As Aemond climbs the stairs to your shared chambers his ears are greeted by silence. When he makes it to the landing he sees a few candles lit on the table with a rolled parchment in front of them. He quickly spots you fast asleep and smiles before making his way to read your letter.

Husband,

It’s the full moon tonight and I wish to look upon it with you - and maybe we can make a wish for our child.

The gardens will do tonight - I’m tired and wish for you to join me in bed - maybe before you wake me for our walk you could bring me something sweet.

Aemond softly chuckles at your requests before making his way back to the stairs. He’s in the kitchens within the next ten minutes having some of the women prepare you a plate with a couple of options. He nods at them before turning and making his way back up to you once more. You’re still asleep when he returns and he smiles as he sets the plate on the table before walking over to you.

“I come bearing sweets.” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheeks before your eyes slowly flutter open. “I feel bad waking you but I know I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I left you to sleep.” he smiles watching you pull the covers closer.

“Are you my sweet that you’ve brought me?” you hum, cupping his cheek and pulling him closer.

“I can be.” he presses his lips against yours. “Or there is a plate of your favorites on the table.”

“Help me up.” you push the blankets off.

“Mm, am I not sweet enough for you?” he chuckles, offering you his arm.

“You are.” you grab onto his arm and start to stand. “But I wish to see the moon and you remind me time and time again you’ll never be quick with me only unless I’m-

“Begging and trembling.” he smirks down at you. “Though as of late I’ve indulged you in any of your wishes and wants.” he presses his lips to your forehead and brings you to the table. “But I will gently, my wife, gently, remind you that you like to go back to bed once I’ve tended to your desires and not go for a walk in the garden.” he smiles watching a small pout from on your face.

“I will stay up after our walk.” you sit at the table and he pushes the plate closer to you.

“Yes, of course.” he takes a piece of your sweet bread hearing your soft whine.

He watches you pick at the different desserts and chuckles to himself knowing that after this walk the most you’ll want to do is curl into his side and kiss him until you fall asleep against his mouth. He presses his lips to your head and walks to the wardrobe to find you a simple dress and shawl. He’s always admired you in the thin fabric ever since he saw you in it the first time.

He turns back to you and takes in your relaxed state at the table and smiles to himself. You’re so at ease swelling with his child. You’ve taken to wearing nothing within the walls of your shared chambers and it’s been such a gift. He’s able to admire you fully, thoroughly. There’s no hidden intent behind it, you just want to be in your own skin with your babe as you caress your growing bump.

“Well if you keep looking at me like that husband I don’t think we’ll make it to the gardens.” you smile as his eye snaps up to you.

“Am I not allowed to admire my beautiful wife?” he hums, bringing the dress over to you.

“Admire me once we’re wishing upon the full moon.” you push the plate back and stand.

“I think I’ll do both.” he hums, holding the dress above you to slide it down over your body. “You’re absolutely radiant.” he whispers while straightening out the fabric. “You’re just so beautiful.” he presses his lips to yours as he wraps the shawl around you. “Carrying our child.” he shakes his head as he places his hands on your bump.

“I love you.” he’s heard these three words from your mouth hundreds of times but tonight they seem to hug him tenderly. “My husband, my Aemond.” you rest your hand above his heart.

“Being married to you isn’t enough.” he whispers. “I need you viscerally, it frightens me.. I just want you with me always.” you watch his eye water and you pull him against you.

“I’m here. I’ll always be here. Soon our child will be here with us.” you smile feeling him hold you closer. “Let us go make a wish for him.” you pull back and look up at him.

“Him?” he tilts his head.

“I’ve decided he’s a boy.” a smile spreads across your features.

“Then a boy he shall be.” Aemond presses his lips to your forehead.

Aemond leads you down the stairs and you’re both greeted by the dim halls and whispering breezes. You curl against him as you take the main steps and make your way out to the main courtyard. Aemond watches you crane your neck up as you become bathed in the moonlight. He continues to slowly lead you to the gardens and you turn to him with a warm smile.

“Shall we wish for ourselves or our child first?” you wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his chest.

“Our child.” he nods, wrapping his arms around you. “Like this?” you nod and look up from his chest to the moon and he does the same.

You both become one, same breath, same heart beat, same wishes. ‘I wish for our child to be happy and healthy.’ There was no need to add in ‘loved’ because you both care for the child so fiercely. You go to place a hand on your bump and Aemond does the same. He opens his eye and looks down at you as you peer up at him.

“I love you.” you curl back against him.

“I love you.” he brings a hand to the back of your head to hold you closer. “Let us make our wishes so we can get you back into bed.” he smooths your hair as you nod.

You look up at the stars before letting your eyes shut once more. You wrap your arms around him tighter as you send your wish into the sky. Aemond feels you stepping closer and he wishes he could just crack open his soul for you to step inside. He doesn’t know what to wish for tonight. Everything he could ever want is in his arms. He squeezes his eye tightly and feels a tear slip down his cheek.

“Why are you crying?” you gently wipe away his tear.

“I just love you so dearly.” you pull him down into a soft kiss.

“And you told the maester that I’ve been more emotional.” he cracks open his eye at your playful tone.

“Hush.” he takes your lips once more. “What did you wish for?” he mumbles against your lips.

“For you to kiss me until I fall asleep.” you blink up at him with heavy eyes.

“I suppose I could do that.” he smiles, taking your hand once more and leading you back into the Keep.

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6 months pregnant

Aemond is about to step into your shared chambers when one of Aegon’s guards calls out for him. He watches as the guard half jogs up to him and hands him a rolled parchment. Aemond sighs knowing the contents but unrolls it all the same.

Aemond,

I, the King, Your King, command you to go to the pits and collect an egg for your child.

I will have them tie you to a horse if I must.

Aegon

Aemond folds the parchment and shoves it into his pocket before starting up the stairs. He still hasn’t wrapped his mind around the idea that Aegon would actually give him an egg. He’s terrified it’s another prank and he’ll show up to the pits and it’ll be a bird egg. It’s why he hasn’t told you or gone to the pits. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and when he makes it to the landing you're perched at the table writing on parchment.

“I was just starting to write you a letter.” you turn to him and set the quill down.

“Keep going.” he nods with a smile. “I was just preparing to write one to you.” he sits at the table across from you.

He pulls a piece of parchment in front of him and grabs a quill and a pot of ink for himself. He glances up at you and you look back down to your letter quickly and he silently chuckles to himself. You cover your letter and continue to write while stealing glances at him. He swallows back his laughter as he watches you blow at the ink to dry it before rolling it. You both seal the letters and push them across the table to each other.

Husband,

I don’t know your plans for the day but I think I will go to the library.

Then make my way to the kitchen to make absurdly sweet treats with the women and giggle until my tummy hurts.

Then bathe and have my hair brushed.

Then you come back and give me kisses - maybe more.

It’s taken all of my restraint not to climb across this table and beg you to take me now - but I do miss my books.

I love you.

Wife,

Aegon has need of me for the next hour or two - I hope it’s much shorter - I don’t like to be away from you.

I’ll return with sweets and I’ll do whatever you please for the rest of the day - no begging and trembling required.

You have looked absolutely beautiful lately and if you’ll allow, I’d like to get a painting commissioned of you.

I love you.

Your shared chambers are silent as you both read your letters. You both look up to each other with smiles and flushed cheeks. He stands and takes the letter from your hand and walks to the side table to place them with the others. He walks back to you and presses his lips to yours.

“Would you like me to escort you to the library?” he offers you his arm and you grab onto it and rise.

“I would appreciate that.” you smile up at him. “What does Aegon need of you?” you hum as you start down the stairs.

“I’m not sure yet.” he chews his lip. He feels bad for not telling you but he won’t be able to handle it if Aegon is lying. “I shouldn’t be too long.” he brings your hand to his lips as he leads you down the hall to the library. “I’ll miss you.” he whispers into your hair as you both stop in front of the library. “I love you very much.” he presses his lips to yours before pulling back and looking down. “I love you very much.” he splays his hand on your bump and shuts his eye.

“We love you very much. We’re waiting until we can see you later.” you cup his cheek and bring his lips to yours.

He nods and pushes the doors open for you before starting towards the main hall. His hands are balled into fits and slightly clammy, unsure of how this afternoon will go. As he enters the main hall he spots Aegon speaking to his guard and when his eyes land on him he turns and walks up to him with a grin.

“Are you going to the pits? Can I come with? I’ll call us a carriage.” Aegon nods and turns.

“Why do you want to come with?” Aemond grabs his arm. “Is this a joke? Is there no egg? I swear to the Gods Aegon if-

“There’s a dragon egg for you child. As I promised. I just thought that maybe we could be different from the rest of our family.” Aegon chews his lip. “It’s an exciting thing. I remember getting the eggs for the twins. It would’ve been better if I wasn’t alone..” he shrugs. “I would like to come with you but if you prefer to be alone that’s okay.” he nods.

Aemond sighs and closes his eye trying to collect himself. Maybe it would be better to have Aegon come with, he could just kill him in the pits and feed him to the dragons if needed. He’d be able to get back before anyone noticed, take you and flee. He’d get a ship but Gods Vhagar would be flying above and-

“Stop plotting my murder, you twat. There’s an egg and I'm coming with. Let’s go.” Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and drags him out of the Keep.

Aegon pulls Aemond to the carriage his guard is standing by and all but pushes him inside. Aemond takes his seat and glares at Aegon as he clambers in. Aemond stares across the carriage at Aegon who has a ridiculous grin on his face. He sighs and looks out the window until Aegon kicks his boot. Aemond drags his eye back over to Aegon who is looking at him expectantly.

“What?” Aemond rolls his eye.

“Are you terribly excited?” Aegon nods.

“For?” Aegon sinks down into his seat sighing.

“My Gods, stop pouting. Your wife that you love is carrying your child and you’re on your way to get your child a dragon egg. It’s okay to be happy, brother.” he shakes his head.

“I am happy.” Aegon barks out a laugh at his stoic response.

“Well tell me about her.” Aegon prompts and he watches Aemond’s face soften slightly.

“She is very kind and gentle. She likes to read with me. She’s calm and relaxed while carrying our child.. unless I’m late waking her up or forget her sweets.” Aemond slightly smiles.

“I’m happy for you.” Aegon smiles. “Truly.” he nods and Aemond goes back to looking out the window. The carriage rumbles up the hill before it comes to a stop in front of the large doors. Aemond wipes his hands on his trousers before getting out of the carriage. “Is my baby brother nervous?” Aegon leans against Aemond once he’s out of the carriage and giggles.

“My Gods Aegon, get off.” Aemond shoves him away and Aegon starts to walk into the pits laughing over his shoulder.

Aemond follows Aegon into the pits and watches as he talks to the dragon keepers. They nod at him with a smile and look to Aemond. Aegon gestures with his head for Aemond to follow him and he slowly walks with him down the ramp. The air gets heavier and Aemond is bombarded with memories of when he would sneak in here during his youth. He shakes his head clearing his thoughts and follows Aegon into an alcove.

“They moved the clutch in here.” Aegon whispers and looks up at Aemond with a grin. “Go on.” he nods quickly.

Aemond steels himself and lets out a breath before walking over to the large metal pot with a lid. His hand hesitates before he grabs the handle and lifts off the lid. Dragon eggs. They’re here. He hears soft shuffling and feels Aegon's presence at his side. He’s frozen solid. He doesn’t know what to do. An egg for his child. Aemond swallows and turns to Aegon.

“I don’t really know how to speak as well as you and maybe you’ll hate me forever but I’m sorry.” Aemonds brows scrunch at his brother's words. “For everything. I know this egg won’t fix everything but brother, I love you and I’m sorry for how I acted when we were children and I guess, for how I still act from time to time.” Aegon offers him a toothy grin. “But I’d like for us to maybe try to be a family. I know you now have your own family but maybe I could be your family again too.” Aegon begins to pick at his fingers.

“I..” Aemond scrunches his brows and clenches his fist.

“Do you want me to leave?” Aegon searches his eyes.

“No.” Aemond is quick to respond. “I would like to try.” he shakes his head. “In time.. We could..” he swallows, not prepared nor expecting to have this conversation.

“Yes, of course. As long as it takes.” Aegon's eyes snap up to Aemond. “It’s taken you months to come pick an egg for your child.” a smile cracks on Aegon's face. “Go on.” he nods. “I want to see which one you pick.”

“Do I just grab one? What am I supposed to do?” he flares his nostrils, not enjoying asking Aegon for help.

“Yeah,” Aegon says softly. “Pick any of them and grab it. The Keepers will bring a smaller pot and lid so you can keep it in that or keep it by the fire in your chambers. Then you put it in the babes crib. Let them bond. They’ll help you with anything else.” he watches Aemond step closer. “Or I can help you too.” Aemond turns to him with scrunched brows.

“Thank you.” he turns back and looks at the eggs before him. He studies each of them and looks over the colors and runs his fingers against the rough surface before picking one.

ᓚᘏᗢ

You wipe your eyes, clearing the tears from laughter as you wave at the ladies in the kitchen. They’ve sent you with a plate of sweets to bring back to your chambers and you tell your handmaidens you’d like a bath in the morning instead. You just want to curl up in bed with Aemond while he reads and feeds you more sweets. You smile as you stop in front of the doors to your shared chambers and begin the climb up the stairs.

When you reach the landing you see Aemond sitting on the floor by the hearth. You set the plate on the table and start to walk over to him. You slowly sink to the ground next to him and your eyes go wide at the egg he’s holding in both of his hands.

“Is that-

“A dragon egg.” his words hushed as he continues to look at the egg. “Aegon..” he looks over to you and you see the tears on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you scoot closer. “Tell me.” you brush away his tears.

“He offered our child an egg months ago. I didn’t tell you because I had thought he was joking or it would be one of his pranks so I ignored it. He kept summoning me and I kept burning the letters.” he shakes his head and looks back down at the egg. “I didn’t think he was serious.” you watch his lip wobble.

“Is that what you did with him today?” you brush his hair back and he turns to you once more.

“He took me to the pits and he let me pick an egg. A dragon egg. For our child. So he might have a dragon if it hatches.” he smiles but his face crumples and he curses himself as a tear slips out.

“Why are you crying?” you lean against his shoulder.

“Because I was so scared our child would have to go through what I did and..” he shakes his head. “Aegon apologized for our youth and.. This egg. This is something I never expected. From him. It’s just..” you rest your hand atop his on the egg. “I’m just feeling a lot of.. I’m just feeling a lot and I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry I shouldn’t-

“Shh,” you wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly.

“You don’t need to comfort me.” he tries to pull back but you hold him closer.

“I’m not comforting you. I’m comforting baby Aemond. Who was so brave for facing his brother and nephews day after day. Who despite everything still manages to be so very sweet to me. Who I know will love our child regardless if this egg hatches or not. Oh,” you smile, feeling a soft pressure and grab his hand. “I wanted to show you this. He started doing this today.” you grab his hand and bring it to your stomach. “I think he likes the sweets we made.” Aemond looks at you with a watery eye before setting the egg back into his metal holder.

“Is this him?” he turns to you and places his other hand on your bump feeling the small kick. “Our son?” his tears start anew. “My Gods I’m so sorry I’m a mess.” he furrows his brows.

“Do not apologize.” you cup his face. “You’re allowed to have feelings. I will never fault you for that.” you look in his eye and kiss him softly.

“I love you. Sometimes that’s just not enough. I want to give you the moon and all the stars. I’d offer you my soul if you’d take it, if you’d even want it. I love you. What can I do? What can I give you?” his breathing deepens as his tears continue to fall.

“Nothing. I don’t require anything from you, Aemond. I love you. It’s unconditional. There’s nothing I need in return to love you as fiercely as I do. I will always love you, never doubt that.” he buries his head into your neck and softly cries. “Is there anything you would like?” you pull back and look at his red face. “We have sweets. I can bring them to the bed and we can feed each other and just hold one another.” you offer him a soft smile as you smooth his hair.

“I would like that.” he nods and helps you rise from the floor. “Go lay-

“No.” you chuckle. “You go lay down. I will bring the sweets and maybe our book.” you hum.

“I love you so very much.” he presses his lips to yours and walks with you to the table and carries the plate of sweets despite your protests.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

7 months pregnant

Aemond has been up for almost two hours now watching you sleep in his arms. He doesn’t know how you always look so peaceful. So at ease. He scoots down the bed to lay face level with your swollen stomach and lays a hand against it lovingly. He presses his lips to you softly and calms his breathing before he starts crying, something that happens almost every morning now.

“I want to meet you so badly. We have a crib set up for you. We can put the egg in there so you can curl up next to it. Your mother has had so many blankets and outfits made for you.” he whispers, pressing his lips against you once more.

“She’s even had an outfit made to match me. Gods know why.. You’re going to be so sweet and nothing like me.” his breath catches when your hand cards through his hair.

“You are very sweet, Aemond.” you whisper trailing your fingers down his jaw. “And I think you two will be so very cute when you match. I may even cease to exist on the spot when I see it.” his eye widens at your words.

“Unfortunately we won’t be able to match or your mother will be taken from us.” he whispers against your bump.

“Hush.” you chuckle. “Your father has exquisite toys made for you. I have yet to see them but knowing him they’re the best in the realm.” you smooth your hand over your skin.

“Of course they’re the best in the realm. I couldn’t very well have him getting hurt.” his eye snaps up to you.

“Mm don’t get me started on your small little riding leathers.” you smile.

“They match your mothers. I think seeing you two matching might send me to an early grave.” you click your tongue at his words.

“Then might all three of us match? Just to increase our survival rate?” he chuckles and presses his lips to your bump once more before kissing back up your body.

“You are like the Mother made flesh.” he runs his hands up your sides in wake of his lips. “So beautiful.” another kiss is placed on your skin. “So gentle.” his lips are feather light.

“What is it that you want, Husband?” you chuckle softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“To worship you. To love you. To kiss you. To touch you.” each statement is separated by his lips grazing against your heated skin. “Is there anything you need before I start?” he lifts his head up and smiles at your red cheeks as you shake your head.

He presses his lips to yours as he continues to trail his fingers around your skin leaving you softly trembling. He slowly swipes his thumb against your nipple and you gasp into his mouth. He rolls the peak and you let out a soft whimper, squeezing your legs shut. His hand continues lower as his lips continue to claim yours, swallowing down your noises.

His hand slips between your thighs and you sigh into his mouth. He keeps your mouths connected as he slides his fingers down your slit. “You’re so perfect.” he mumbles before circling your bud. “My wife.” you whine as his fingers start to coax pleasure from you. He kisses down to your neck and softly bites and sucks listening to your small gasps.

“Aemond,” you whine and he scoots closer and begins to kiss your neck with more fervor. His fingers speed up on your bud and your legs start to shake. “Yes,” you gasp, grabbing onto his arm. Your legs clamp around his hand as you come undone softly moaning.

“I’m going to have them bring us breakfast.” he continues to swirl his fingers, sending more pleasure through your body. “Then I’ll feed you.” he presses his lips to your neck once more. “Then,” he licks the shell of your ear pulling a whimper from you. “I’m going to lick your cunny until you fall asleep.” he smirks as he feels your pleasure leak out of you. “Then we’ll repeat the process with lunch and supper.” he lifts up and watches your eyes flutter shut as he quickens his fingers. “And of course after dessert.” he smiles hearing your pleasure coat his fingers.

“Please,” you arch your chest off the bed as you come undone once more. He slowly removes his hand from between your legs and captures your lips once more. “I may need a nap now.” you murmur.

“Then rest, my beautiful wife. I’ll wake you when breakfast is here.” he presses his lips to your forehead and pulls the blankets over you.

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8 months pregnant

You look at all of your maternity dresses and gowns with a scowl. Aemond brings them out in succession and has had your handmaids bring more gowns into your chambers and you turn them all away. You toss your head back on the chaise and Aemond hisses at everyone to leave the two of you. Once your chambers are cleared he kneels before you and waits for you to look at him.

“Why couldn’t we have done this when I didn’t rival Vhagar in size?” you pout, still looking at the ceiling.

“My Gods you do not.” Aemond holds back his chuckle as he grabs your hands. “I think you look so very beautiful like this. Pregnant with our child and absolutely radiant.” he hums and you slowly turn your head down to him. “I wish to have a painting with you as you are now.” you sigh and look back up at the stone.

“What if,” he nods with an idea. “We get your silk shawl.” you look at him with a raised brow. “Just like this actually.” he looks down at you with a smile and goes to your wardrobe.

He walks back to you with the fabric and sets it on the armrest of the chaise. He slowly peels off your slip and lets his eye linger longer than necessary until he’s greeted by your pursed lips. He chuckles and grabs the shawl, draping it over your breasts and wrapping it down the side of your bump before covering your center and cascading it over your hip. He steps back and feels his knees weaken.

“Like this.” he nods. “On your chaise, draped in silk, carrying our child.” he steps closer to you and you’re pulling at his trousers.

“If I’m to be naked then so will you.” you blink up at him.

“What do you expect me to cover up with?” he chuckles, helping you pull the laces.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” you watch him get undressed.

“Might I just sit behind you on the chaise? I can hold you in my arms. Give you kisses while the painter does what he does.” he hums, trailing his fingers down your jaw.

“I would like that.” you nod up at him, starting to smile. “Can I make a request?” you grab his hand.

“Anything.” he nods.

“Might we have your sapphire painted in all its glory with us?” he’s discarding his eyepatch and setting it next to your chaise. “Another request?” you reach out for him and he nods. “Kiss me once more before you call the painter back in?” he’s leaning down and capturing your lips after your last word.

“Don’t get too worked up.” he chuckles as you pull him down. “Let me go get the painter and I’ll be back.” he presses his lips to your forehead and disappears to return with the painter behind him.

The painter helps situate the two of you on the chaise and adjusts the silk to make it more flattering for the both of you. For the rest of the day servants come and go with food and drink while Aemond caresses and holds you as the painter captures your love and tenderness with his paints and oils.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

birth

Aemond brings another piece of lemon cake to your lips and you smile accepting the sweet and enjoying the tartness that follows. He brings a cup of water to your lips next and you smile at him before accepting the cup. You start to prop yourself up and he’s there next to you offering you his arm and support.

“Oh,” you gasp as a wave of pressure washes through you.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he’s been much more on edge as you approach the final days. The maester told him it could be any day now and that has simply ensured Aemond does everything for you and never sleeps. “I’ll go get the maester.” he nods and stops. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Aemond, I’ll be fine. Just go get him.” you nod trying not to show that another wave of pressure is pressing against you. You hear him thud down the steps and you hear his tone but not the words as he barks at the guard. He’s back at your side in seconds. “What can I do for you? What do you need?” he’s brushing your hair back.

“I’m okay.” he catches your small wince and turns to the stairs impatiently. “Relax.” you grab his hand. “We have some time.” you nod.

“I’m giving him one more-“ he’s kneeling next to you when he hears your small groan.

“I think we’re going to get to meet our son today.” you let out a breathy chuckle.

“My Gods, where is the maester?” he looks to the stairs once more. His heart starts beating faster. What if he doesn’t come? My Gods he should’ve read a book on the birthing process. He should’ve-

“Husband.” you squeeze his hand bringing him back to you. “I am perfectly fine. If you need something to do, go get me some water and maybe a brush and something to secure my hair out of my face.” you nod with a soft smile.

“I can do that.” he nods and whirls around the room collecting what you requested. “Are you okay?” he hands you the cup. He sits in bed next to you and begins to brush your hair.

“I’m okay. I promise.” you nod as he starts to pull your hair back and secure it. “I’m so excited.” you whisper, turning to him.

“I am too.” he presses his lips to yours. He hears the doors to your chambers open and he’s on his feet once more. “What took you so long?” Aemond is rushing over to the man once he makes it to the landing.

“Aemond, enough.” you call out. “Come back to me.” you reach your hand out and see the maesters shoulders relax as Aemond walks back to you.

“How are you feeling?” the maester walks over to you on the bed.

“I’ve had some pressure. Coming and going.” the maester nods and Aemond hovers behind him.

“Is she alright? Is the child alright?” Aemond’s rushed whispers greet our ears.

“She is perfectly fine, my Prince.” Aemond shakes his head at his soothing words.

“And where are the midwives? Her handmaidens? Where the fuck is an-

“Aemond.” you hiss. “Go get me more water and get into this bed beside me. I will not have you yell at the maester. There is no need.” the maester offers you a small smile.

Aemond slides his eye to you and sighs. He closes his eye and starts towards the table to grab the pitcher and bring it to your side table. You busy him with minuscule tasks as the maester asks you questions. Slowly the midwives trickle in and bring in blankets and your handmaidens flock to your side with smiles.

Aemond watches as your shared chambers slowly become more filled and his mind is racing. He knows you're fine. He can see that you’re fine. He can see your smile and hear your laugh, but he’s terrified. He’s trying not to pace but there’s so much going on in the room and so many people talking all at once he-

“Aemond.” his eye snaps to you at your soft voice. “Come to me.” you hold your hand out and his hand is engulfing yours the next moment. “Come lay with me. I need you here with me. Please?” you blink up at him and he’s crawling into bed beside you.

“I’m sorry I’m being a bad husband to you.” he whispers, brushing your hair back.

“You’re not.” you press your lips to his. “I’m scared too.” you whisper and he cups your face.

“I’ll be brave for the three of us.” he nods his head and presses his lips to his forehead. “Tell me what you need of me and it’s done.” he searches your eyes.

“I just want you next to me. Stay with me, please.” your words soft.

“Of course.” he nods.

The maester and midwives start speaking to you both and you hold each other and nod along as they tell you what’s to come. The pressure slowly becomes more consistent and you have a vice-like grip on Aemonds hand. He’s softly whispering in your ear about how brave you are and how in awe he is. He brings your linked hand to his mouth and places his lips on the back of your hand.

“I think it might be time.” you whisper and his eye snaps up to you. “I’m scared.” you chew your lip and squeeze his hand as the pressure becomes consistent.

“I’m right here with you. I’m not leaving your side.” he whispers, scooting closer.

Soon the bed is surrounded with body’s and your legs are propped up. You have no care for how exposed you are as you continue to hold onto Aemond like a lifeline. Another wave of pressure takes your breath and you look up at Aemond with scrunched brows. The maester instructs you to begin pushing and your eyes close when you try the first push.

Aemond watches your knuckles turn white as you tighten your grip on him. He’s softly brushing your hair back and accepts the damp cloth from your handmaiden to wipe at your brow. The maester continues to praise you for doing a good job and asks how you’re doing.

“I’ll be better once I can meet my child.” you let out a breathy chuckle followed by a low groan.

“Soon.” the maester pops his head up. “A couple more pushes.” he nods.

You grit your teeth and give the next couple of pushes your all. You feel a loss of pressure and Aemond gasps next to you. You look down and see the maester holding your child. You shake your head as the tears fall. You outstretch your arms and he brings the babe to your arms as he starts to cry.

“A boy.” the maester smiles.

“Our boy.” you look up at Aemond who is already crying.

“Our boy.” he looks at you and wraps his arms around yours as you both cradle the child.

“Would you like to cut the cord, my Prince?” the maester soft voice pulls you both out of your bubble.

“Can I?” he looks at the maester who nods. He crawls down the bed and the maester hands him a small knife. “Right here?” Aemond looks up at the maester.

“Yes, right here.” he points. “Perfect. Might we clean the babe and look over him?” the midwives look at you.

“Yes, thank you.” you offer them a tired smile.

While one of the midwives cleans the babe another helps you through the afterbirth as Aemond lays back down next to you. They both help to wipe you off and change you into a clean night dress. Next you know your babe is being brought back to your arms wrapped in one of his blankets.

“He looks very healthy.” the maester nods. “If you could try to feed him to make sure he latches and we can help you while we’re still here.”

The babe takes to you with no issue. The midwives bring more towels and blankets for you. Aemond has been silently watching you and your son and whispering a thanks to everyone who brings you something. Slowly everyone trickles out of your chambers and the three of you are left alone.

“We have a little son.” Aemond shakes his head, not particularly speaking to anyone. “Our boy.”

“Would you like to name him?” you look up at him.

“You want me to name him?” he shakes his head.

“You can. Your family has such beautiful names. I'd like you to pick one.” you look down as your son leans back in your arms. You adjust your night dress and slowly smooth his wisps on white hair. “You are so very handsome.” you hum, tracing a finger around his face.

“Aelor.” he nods, watching the both of you.

“Our sweet little Aelor.” you coo, covering him with the blanket more. “We have a son.” you turn and look up at Aemond with a grin.

“You were so very amazing today. So brave. You gave us our son. Our family.” Aemond whispers and you hear it in his voice before you see the tear fall. “I love you.” he leans over and presses his lips to yours.

“I love you.” you lean against him as he holds you closer.

“I would like to hold him.” you gasp at his words.

“My Gods Aemond, of course. I’m sorry.” you can’t believe you haven’t offered him his son yet.

“I don’t think I’ll want to let him go either.” he smiles as you rest Aelor into his arms.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

um i just love him and i think i almost cried like a million times while writing this 🤗 - im working on the next couple of chapters and im thinking we’ll do like time skips but years like 2yrs later 5yrs later etc bc i have so much cute shit planned once their babies are like ~sentient~

also maybe sorry for naming the child? idk they’re going to have more and i don’t want to just type “the eldest said” “the middle said” so yeah and there’s only so many targ names so if they’re basic? deal ✅

also i have no idea why i personally yapped so heavily on this post!! I just have so much to say about it!!

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething

#ive actually never been chill abt aemond a single day since i first saw him x #um im sorry this was this long??#aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #hotd smut

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isolatednights · 2 days ago

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"ahh, so you're telling me i should get my own little bachelor pad ready in here? pretty sure one of the houses near by would suit just fine," unless alara specifically asked for her own living space, roman would be hard pressed to be anywhere but right down the hall - near her. "you've got nothing to worry about. you know i'll always come back for you." at first, it had almost felt like an obligation. when they'd first begun to travel together, the man had wanted to keep her safe - a civilian who'd never had to deal with the sort of hardship and violence he'd seen on his multiple tours. but over time, it had stopped becoming an obligation and instead a pure desire. roman cared about the woman - probably for longer than he'd realized until recently.

sitting still was likely to drive him mad, but perhaps he'd find something that allowed him to tinker. carving wood - maybe a chess set? or trying his hand at fixing some electronic or another - assuming they could get solar up and running. "if it makes you happy, i'm sure i can find something to keep me still for a while. i'll try and get out to a library or bookstore before i stay put for the season. see if i can't find some DIY or informational books on useful topics. things we can use to improve this place come spring."

dark hues roamed over her features - ignoring the suggestion of inviting john by regularly in favor of lingering on her proximity and words. settling an arm around her shoulders, the man drew alara closer - dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "this is nice," the moment the words slipped from his lips, roman wanted to smack himself. "i mean - fuck. what i meant was, lets do this more sweetheart, yeah? we deserve the normalcy. i wanna be able to give that to you."

The idea that she could want to get rid of him was ridiculous but Alara decided to play his game instead of denying any of it. "You're right, one dinner and already, I can't stand you," she teased. The idea that Roman would not do as many supply runs once winter came eased into her. "I always worry when you're gone," she added softly. It would feel good to have him around, to not spent so much time fearing something might have happened to him. Not knowing if he would come back or not. This place was as close to old life they could have, she was certain of it and she knew she was getting too comfortable but she couldn't fight it, even less now, full and warm, the wine getting to her head. Her cheeks were rosé from it all and her eyes sparkling. It was just too easy, in that moment, to forget the way the world was now and it was exactly what she wanted, to stop worrying for a night, to just enjoy the fact that they were here.

Alara's heart fluttered when Roman sat close to her. It wasn't the first time they were near but it was one of the first one when there was nothing but contentment in her, nothing to worry about, no fear present in her mind and body. "I think I might actually love the sight of you being still, at least as long as it isn't driving you mad," she said with a laugh. Days and nights like this one were in the cards for the winter and judging by the success it had been, she had no doubts it would be interesting. Of course, today Roman had things to do but Alara knew she would find things for him to fix if needed, even if she had to break some of them herself, not that she'd tell him that. "I don't see a problem with that. This couch is suddenly very comfortable, don't you think?" It had been musty when they got here but it mostly needed a good cleaning and to be aired out. "We should invite him weekly, or something like that. Keep good relationships between neighbours."

As if things could be that simple, good meals and laughters that stretched long into the night. Her cheeks burned as he called her sweetheart, even if it wasn't the first time Roman did such a thing. To her slightly drunken mind and heart, it sounded like there was something more behind the words. Alara leaned into the couch, her head titling, mirroring Roman. Her legs curled beneath her and she released a deep sigh of happiness. "This feels good," she finally said as she looked deep into Roman's eyes. If she wasn't careful, she would let the wine get even more to her head and might do something she'll regret, like leaning in to kiss the man. Instead she closed her eyes and let her head rest on his shoulder, her heart beating frantically.

#missmvrder 001 #missmvrder #chats ⸻ roman #chats ⸻ roman & alara

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queen0fm0nsterz · 3 months ago

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So, (sits down at the table) (lights up cigarette) are we all ready to discuss how Six's lack of gender conformity in the beginning of the franchise can be read not only as an expression of her nonbinary identity but also an inherent refusal of what their assigned gender requires of her, which is why they are put in contrapposition with the Lady, whose name and role is inherently tied to her identity as a woman, and by refusing to abide to that standard Six challenges not only the structure of the Maw but also the basic concept on which the Lady based her entire life and identity on

#little nightmares #carols.txt #ln meta #six #little nightmares six #the lady #little nightmares the lady #{something something... obeying the rules of society might give you a chance of surviving in a strictly capitalistic environment but it wont #make you happy... something something... a woman can never be more than a woman #these are mere musings so dont take it too much to heart #and to be clear I DO NOT think that women can't be more than what their gender role requires of them #i do think a facet of the lady's character IS that very idea though #and how six challenges it by her lack of gender conformity. shes nobinary in the way I am #a girl in spirit but not societally. if it even makes sense #i'd love to discuss this more... lady and six fans come forth}

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sskk-manifesto · 6 months ago

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Ep 5!!!

#Episodes that make me go “The author has never talked with a woman ever” 😓😓😓#I don't like how Lucy's character is handled at all. And I feel like I can't talk about it because I'm just going to sound like a bitter–#ss/kk shipper... But I really don't like it. And if it can help my case I'm a multishipper so I really don't take any–#issues with atsu/lucy I like the ship quite a lot actually.#So you're telling me there's this girl... Who meets this boy who pretty much ruined her life by directly causing her to lose her job...#And the next time she sees him she's going to sacrifice her own freedom for him as well as tell him “when you're done doing your things–#come and save me” (longest ewwww ever)... And when she regains freedom (author didn't bother to explain how because they don't care)–#she goes to work... As a waitress at the café beneath his workplace. So he can keep doing his Cool Superpowers Job while she literally–#must serve him every time he visits the place. It's just ?????????????????????????????????#Look‚ I don't dislike Lucy and I feel general affection towards her. It's just that they make her act like no one ever would #Just for the sake of the plot I guess #And like I knoww it's (probably just a little) more nuanced than that. I know Lucy is living her own fairy tale fantasy.#It's just that what I've said about her story is still true‚ you know?#I'm sorry but as sweet as atsu/lucy can be. I really hate the author for making Lucy a waitress. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.#It's so weird. This anime has women writing standards that feel like dating back to the 20s #Same with Katai and the ideal woman tbh. Like why are women to be seen as this abstract impersonal entities? Why can't they just be people?#Ideal for WHO. It's like super screwed up of a concept. What even is an ideal woman? What does it mean to be a woman anyways?#They just want to say “ideal wife”. But women aren't made to be wives their existence isn't functional to another person.#Sorry. I derail. Next episode is going to be even worse on this front ughhhh #Back to the episode: once again it really shows they were running out of budget with this season‚‚‚ the animation looks very suffered #Too many flashback also... I feel bad for the animators tbh #I don't really like the shift in art style :( Not even Atsushi I found particularly pretty this episode my heart cries #The nail pulling thing made me feel like throwing up afhsjyabfsbfwasfvb I feel like I can bear worse gore but there's a couple of little–#specific things I can't stand and this seems to be one of them pffftttt #I like Higuchi I think she's both very funny and cool. I really wish she was explored more (but then again looking at Teruko... )#The relationship between Kunikida and Katai looks so interesting even though we only get glimpses of it. Kunikida regrets Katai leaving–#the ada but is also happy for him but also worries for him. He comes to his house seemingly to check on him and starts cleaning around.#The way he loves him and cherishes their friendship and shared history is really evident and it makes for a compelling dynamic.#Perhaps I should read their short story... In any case. Going to someone's house and compulsively start doing the dishes half out of will–#to help out half because he can't bear the mess sounds a lot like something I'd do lol

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mydr3aminvi0let · 8 months ago

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i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

#like oh....you think im one of them...bestie no im freshly 23 and im happy i made it this far i dont wanna go back #sometimes i hate being 5'2 with a small frame you have to be very careful and kinda vet everyone you interact with #idk there's a complex discussion to be had. i am someone who has went through what they fetishize and i know a lot of girls in that #community have too. so i worry a lot if if my behaviors and preferences accidentally align with that community in ways i don't realize #bc trauma will always reveal itself. idfk. when i was 20 i got in a relationship with a man who was 30 because i misheard him and thought #he was 24. i thought he was okay until we were at this giftshop and he wanted to get me something but as giftshops are super expensive #i mentioned i could fit in childrens clothes and it saves me a lot of money ($60 shoes are $30 for kids) and tbh fit my frame better #so he was “prove it” so i did and mf said “THATS HOT” ??????????? BITCH #my style wasn't even feminine in the slightest at the time 😑 it feels like a curse to have this kind of trauma then never outgrow this body #believe me ik how trauma changes your brain but how #as a woman #can you ever be apart of that community? why do you allow this to continue and not persecute these men for existing?#you're inherently enabling it and saying its okay this happened to you and its okay that other adults can hurt other kids #when my rapist got put in prison i screamed i yelled i sang i danced my friends set off FIREWORKS for me #when he got out i cried more than i ever have. i moved STATES (not the sole rzn but nonetheless) not that i was in the one he was in prison #in anyways but i was so fucking petrified he'd find me again. its embarrassing but i started sleeping with a chastity belt again.#i made more phone calls i ever have in my life to people who have and will get their hands dirty #i understand the self hatred those girls have. i understand the girls who sleep with everyone to take some of their power back.#i even understand the girls who want to get raped if they got assaulted but it never felt like enough for the pain they're experiencing #but please stay the fuck away from me. as someone who has tried to heal and wants every man like that erased from earth.#do not give them an ounce of attention. ostracize them like they're meant to be. leave it to god for their karma they will be dealt with #reckon with your pain and make sure it never happens to anyone else. only the harmed can make the greatest teachers #tbh bro i am disgusted with myself at all that those are the kinda vibes i put out.#what are you supposed to do as a woman when feminity is equalized with infantilism? i think its tone deaf and misguided whem girls are like #i dress this way to contradict societies views!!! babes its a whole cultural issue that requires reviewing and reforming #you are not doing anything revolutionary by wearing frilly skirts and saying im not like them bc they see you and ur automatically boxed in #i dress how i want and say what i want but i know as a individual im not the beacon of a groundbreaking movement #singularily flipping society on its head. dress how you want but be aware of the connotations. you're living in this society here and now #there's consequences that may not be in your favor and youll be assumed to have values that dont align with you and it may break your heart

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brunchable · 3 months ago

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𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know.

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold.

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room.

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side.

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded.

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × ×

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder.

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back.

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question.

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways.

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips.

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance.

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more.

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous.

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself.

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality.

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin.

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile.

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear.

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength.

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × ×

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house.

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him.

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes.

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door.

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside.

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh.

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else.

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore.

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back.

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes.

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × ×

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh.

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm.

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually.

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room.

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch.

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile.

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets?

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip.

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure.

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little.

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still.

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light.

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep.

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase.

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words.

“What’s that?”

“This.”

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body.

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply.

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting.

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless.

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front.

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon yourself to him.

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you.

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire.

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.”

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder.

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy.

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him.

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

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letoasai · 7 months ago

Text

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth.

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too.

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it.

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger.

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened.

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far.

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?”

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it.

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.”

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.”

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask.

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.”

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.”

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.”

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing.

“Forty minutes then.”

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it.

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes.

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed.

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.”

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?”

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.”

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?”

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot.

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.”

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.”

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.”

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted.

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up.

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly.

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored.

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!”

“Phantom…?”

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found.

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement.

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care.

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?”

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.”

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her.

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors.

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face.

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.”

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.”

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm.

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.”

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?”

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.”

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.”

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.”

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.”

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination.

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.”

“Will he?” The Flash stared.

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes.

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one.

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower.

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully.

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim."

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.”

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?”

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp.

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.”

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.”

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath.

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?”

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?”

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient.

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor.

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly.

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone.

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted.

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!”

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions.

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.”

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears.

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.”

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him.

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled.

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone.

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.”

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing.

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower.

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back.

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it.

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #Danny Phantom #The youngest ancient #justice league #Clockwork #Danny feeling the loss of a planet #whole solar systems on Danny's skin #star freckles

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