#titles are the bane of my existence i hate it

[lucawrites11]

why do i have to give my fanfics title why can't i just name it AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA which is the placeholder title for the fic i am posting today. it would've been posted four hours ago but instead of listening to my lecture on modern japanese history i am clicking on a hozier lyrics fanfic title generator... my last resort for any and all fic titles

[partmathpartmagic]

A flip of a switch

Chapter 6

Rating: Mature

It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left.

Happy Wednesday here's some graveyard smut <3 i think this will be my last update to this fic? but who knows

Just fluffy, giggly, lovey sex, idk what to tell you. It's smut from start to finish with a couple pov switches. yep.

Read on AO3

Read from the beginning (6/6 chapters, 15,737 words)

Prequel to Disarmed which you should read if you like these two together!

Astarion never thought of himself as empathetic, not really. Empathy had been tortured out of him pretty quickly, he supposed, removed to make room for self-preservation and survival instincts. Still, nestled between Mina’s thighs, looking up at her dilated eyes, her lips swollen from kissing, he knew a moment of profound pity for every other thinking creature on every plane of existence who would never experience this exact moment. Nothing else could possibly compare.

He kissed her inner thigh before running his tongue slowly, flatly, up through her folds and latching his lips gently around the bundle of nerves tucked between them. He felt her jolt of arousal where their minds were still connected, almost painful in its desperation, and heard her fingers digging into the grass at her sides. As he sucked her gently into his mouth, he slid a hand up to explore the soft heat of her skin, traveling up the dip of her waist and over her breast, committing every inch of her to memory. So soft, she was.

He darted his tongue out and her hips jerked involuntarily as she made the most beautiful sound he’d heard yet, and sex was sex, and a clit was a clit, and there was a part of him that wished none of it felt familiar at all, but the sounds she made were a revelation. She tasted exactly like he would expect, and completely different. Her body was sweetness and saltiness and skin and sweat and love and safety and joy all dancing on his tongue.

It wasn’t the mindless bliss of 15 minutes ago that he was feeling now, it was something much more heady and complex, and it was as terrifying as it was lovely.

As he suckled her rhythmically, gently running his tongue over her like a caress, he ran his hand back down her torso and stroked her hip, the curve of her ass, her inner thigh, before slowly dipping inside her once more. He moaned against her at the heat and the closeness, and he looked up to see her arching her back, her chest heaving, her moans turning into soft, broken cries into the quiet night air, cursing and breathing his name. He had never heard anything so beautiful.

She was starting to lose control, and it was glorious. It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left. Another of her cries seemed to travel to his very core and grind his hips down into the ground unconsciously. He was almost painfully hard. He slipped another finger in to join the first, and she gasped like she’d been drowning and suddenly resurfaced.

It’s you, he reminded himself. It’s you making her feel like that. Deserve it or not, you’re here and you better fucking make the most of it. His free hand squeezed her thigh where it was braced and he felt a wave of love from her mind.

Impossible, all of it. Completely impossible.

________________

Mina wasn’t positive, but she was fairly certain this was how she was going to die. A human body simply couldn’t sustain this level of sensation, it was going to kill her. And honestly, was there a better way to go than with this man between her legs? At least she’d die happy. And hells, she was already in a graveyard. That was nothing if not convenient.

Had she not been fighting her every impulse, she would have bucked her hips so hard when he slipped another finger in that she would have broken his nose (though the way he was devouring her, she wasn’t sure that would have stopped him). She had long given up control of the sounds she was making, and spared a thought to hope no bereaved were visiting their loved ones right now. It was too much, the suction and the friction and the vibration of his moans against her. The absolute pleasure of him, his skilled fingers and his athletic tongue, and so much deeper than that, the way he was trusting her and surrendering to her. She was so, so lucky. It was impossible for anyone to deserve this. But her mind, for once, was not in charge, and her body wasn’t going to let her talk herself out of this happiness.

Astarion crooked his fingers gently, drawing them almost all the way out of her before plunging back in, and she heard herself cry out. Her legs were pulling as far apart as possible, trying to open herself up to him, give him as much access as she could, and the night air against her wet skin made her feel deliciously exposed. The suction from his mouth had reached a rhythm that was falling in time with the movement of his hand, and she needed… something. She released the grass she’d been pulling at, feeling around for some anchor, some point of contact. She had the presence of mind to avoid his hair, though she wasn’t sure if that still applied here? It had seemed okay before, as if maybe the moment earlier had been angle-specific, but now wasn’t the time to play around. If he needed her to, she'd be able to stop, but at this point it would be almost physically painful. Best to avoid if possible.

Darling, she heard in her mind, and embarrassingly enough just the sound of his voice in her head made her bite her lip around a moan, not to eavesdrop, but a hand in the hair sounds divine right now.

Fuck. She needed him to be very, very sure, because she was not capable of being gentle. Her left hand was tearing grass out of the ground by the root as she thought. She was racing towards a climax and felt utterly out of control.

It was the angle darling, I promise. I’ll keep my mind open in case anything changes, but—

Looking down, she saw his eyes close and felt him moan around her again, the sensation making her vision go spotty. When his eyes opened again, they were dead serious and locked with hers.

—use me, darling. Trust me. Take what you need.

Her body responded before her mind could process, her hand flying to his hair and tangling into it, holding him tight between her legs like his mouth was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Her other hand felt around desperately until it found him where he was holding onto her thigh. At her touch he loosened his grip, and she locked their fingers together, hers shaking so hard that it took a couple tries.

That’s it, darling. Let go for me.

She cried out hoarsely, her relief so close and so far at the same time. She needed—

A third finger joined the first two, and her entire body quivered with the delicious fullness of it, the feeling of him filling her, holding her, trusting her, loving her. She drove herself down onto him in time with his thrusts, one, two, three times, and then–release. Her mouth fell silent, no sound she could make feeling like enough, as her mind began screaming: Yes, gods, YES.

Her orgasm hit her like nothing she’d experienced, a tidal wave of bliss and relief and gratitude sweeping away every thought. She rode the waves of it physically, her body rolling and clenching around him as her legs shivered. His mouth grew gentle, but didn’t leave her as she floated back down to earth, eventually falling limp against the grass.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her vision gradually returning as she caught her breath. Her stolen shirt was in a state of complete disarray, and she knew there was no small amount of dirt under her nails.

Slowly Astarion extracted himself, pressing kisses up her torso as he came to join her. She pulled him towards her and their mouths crashed together messily before he collapsed next to her, breathing almost as heavily as she was.

Usually Mina was exhausted after an orgasm, needing some time to recover before getting back into things. But the taste of her own pleasure on his lips, the smell of him next to her, the bliss still sitting heavy on her skin–recovery was the last thing on her mind. Hells, she felt feral. As he rolled onto his back beside her she followed, coming to straddle him with her hips hovering over his erection. She bent down to kiss him, sucking his lower lip between her teeth before licking her way into his mouth. A residual wave of pleasure washed over her, like a sudden flashback to a moment ago, and she pulled back to close her eyes and bring her forehead against his, biting her lip. She had never felt like this after sex; it was like the orgasm had never stopped, just slowed. The feeling had her pressing closer to him, gently rolling her hips down to meet his. Just the feeling of his cock between her legs made her twitch, and he groaned beneath her. She thought back to the first time they’d had sex, and it was so obvious now how guarded he’d been. Coaxing genuine, unrehearsed sounds from him… it was an addiction. It was all she could think about.

________________

If this was what sex was supposed to feel like, he had no idea what he’d been doing for the past 200 years.

She was kissing him again, her body slowly melting down onto his and her hand cupping the side of his face. His shirt was hanging off her shoulders and her hair was mussed. It wasn't so long ago that she’d been defending him to his former master, her robes flying, her face fierce in the magical light, and now she was here, all those fierce angles turned to curves, her entire being warm and soft and sweet and messy. It defied words, how lucky he was to get both versions of her.

As he licked into the heat of her mouth, he thought in her direction, How would you like me to fuck you, darling?

She sighed into his mouth. I don’t think I care, she replied finally. As long as I can look at you while you do it.

I’m not letting that beautiful face out of my sight, darling, don’t worry .

He rolled over her and used his knee to hitch up one of her legs, opening her up to him, and without another moment of hesitation he lined himself up and pushed inside.

Sparks burst in front of his eyes as she cursed beneath him, her voice almost a whimper. Her body was quivering, and he stayed exactly where he was for a minute while both of them adjusted. She got there quicker than he did, and when she pulled him down for a kiss and her body squeezed around him, he almost lost control entirely. But no, he wasn’t done yet. Slowly, he began to move, and when he pulled out slightly and pushed back in, fully sheathing himself inside her, she broke off their kiss to gasp. They were both breathing comically hard for how little they were moving. Before he could stop himself, the thought turned into a breathless laugh. His eyes met Mina’s, and she began to laugh as well.

“This is absurd,” she managed between giggles. “How is it this intense? How are we supposed to do anything else ever again?”

A lock of hair had fallen across her face, and he brushed it away, still smiling and breathless. “I have absolutely no idea, darling.” His hips twitched, his body tired of staying still, and the friction turned both their laughter to gasps. Astarion closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt a hand on his cheek. He looked down to see Mina’s eyes shining up at him, a soft smile still on her face.

She didn’t say what she was thinking, but she didn’t need to. They’d heard the word in each others’ thoughts enough, they both knew they were loved. And they both understood that saying it out loud was complicated. If they already knew, why push it? It was clear in her eyes how she felt, and he was sure his face was just as easy to read.

So instead of speaking, he kissed her gently on the forehead, and then began to move once more.

When she came for the second time, barely five minutes later, it was with his fangs in her neck and his name on her lips, and his vision went white as she throbbed around him, pulling him after her into bliss.

[augustplanet]

no context spoilers

Thank you @elusive-honeydew for the tag!💖

Rules: Share a sentence or paragraph from a WIP that could be a spoiler, but on its own is not. Can be from a WIP or something posted. Tag as many people as you'd like!

You sit the chilled bottle on the counter in front of him and you’re too quick for him to catch you, to graze his fingers against yours as he grips the neck. You’re already moving, another patron waving you down for a beer or a whiskey or a jack and coke but because his momma raised him right, beat manners into his thick skull, he still murmurs a thank you to the buzzing, empty air.

tags (ignore these if you'd like!💕) @roosterbruiser @cherrycola27 @cassiemitchell @thedroneranger @blue-aconite @mayhemmanaged @sugarcoated-lame @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboygarcia @lewmagoo @laracrofted @ohtobeleah @seresinsweetie @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @desert-fern

[berryz-writes]

Jealousy

PART 1

Summary: Your forced to spend the weekend with Azriel the bane of your existence but little do you realise he doesn't completely hate you

did i think of the title before writing the actual fic? Yes i did. ENJOY LOVELIES <3 (ignore mistakes it's midnight😭)

I crossed my arms, wishing and hoping for my sake Rhys was playing some sort of prank and he didn't really mean I had to spend the next three days with the bane of my existence.

"It's last minute I know but you two are the ones I trust to be able to carry this out without gathering much suspicion" Rhys explained looking between the two of us. His expression was slightly apologetic when he looked toward me and it rightfully should have been. He was forcing me to spend 3 days with Azriel. The most arrogant fucking man in the whole of Prythian.

Azriel stood next to me his brows furrowed and his eyes sending daggers at Rhys "I wouldn't want y/n to tire herself out too much. I'll do the mission myself" I grit my teeth together at his words and the annoying belittling tone he used.

"I'm right fucking here. It's better if I go myself, they'll be able to spot a brooding bat from miles away" I replied not even bothering to look at the moody asshole. His wings twitched slightly but he gave no other indication that he had been affected by my words.

Rhys let out a sigh and stood up, walking around his desk and reaching for a folded parchment. "Your both going. End of story" He extended his hand and before Azriel could reach for it I all but snatched it out of Rhys's hand. Rhys looks slightly amused but Azriel didn't. He turned to me, his glare rooting me to the spot. I gave him a pleasant smile back trying to get him even more annoyed. I could hear his teeth grinding together even from the distance between us.

"Go fuck yourself" He muttered to me before storming out the room, his shadows trailing behind as if scared of their master too.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed" I commented, opening the parchment and noting the details Rhys had written, the population of the village, the number of cabins, weapons stores etc. I looked up to see Rhys looking at me, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he found this all amusing "At least try to get along. It'll make things easier"

I let out a sigh. Rhys was right. But annoying Azriel was always so fun. "I'll think about it" I finally let out, leaving his study and going to prepare my weapons.

***

I walked around the cabin, running a finger along the book case. Not a speck of dust in sight, the magic keeping the cabin clean for any guests. There was a double bed on one side of the room, matching side tables on both sides, opposite them were two armchairs and a fireplace which was currently filled with logs as the fire danced away the cold. A small kitchen to the back with cupboards stocked with every ingredient.

Gods I hated this place. Well not the cabin. It was cosy. What I hated was the village itself. It was always so dreary and grey. Not to mention the smell of misogynistic males who thought themselves too high up to talk to a female. Fucking pricks.

I sat down on the bed and unlaced my boots, finally being able to feel my feet properly. The day had been a long and annoying one. Meeting with village heads to discuss why there was disruptions amongst the Illyrians. Making sure females were still allowed to train and their wings were kept safe. The whole lot of them were stubborn, not a word going through their thick skulls. And to add to the growing list of annoyances Azriel had been an asshole the entire day. More than usual.

Before I could think more about how draining my day had been I heard a sharp knock at my door. I readied myself. If it was that fucking Illyrian who had called me a whore I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I walked over to the front door my socks gliding across the wooden floorboards, reminding me of when me and Rhys used to ice skate on the Sidra. I opened the door my frown already in place. Good thing it was because it was Azriel darkening up my door with his gloom.

"What is it Shadowsinger? Miss me?" I crossed my arms and waited for him to say something. Common courtesy would be to invite him into the guest house but I wasn't in the mood of playing nice. He didn't look like he wanted to play nice either. His shadows were moving slowly over his wings and around his body, their colour darker than the night itself.

"I'm staying here for the night" He finally said before moving past me and into the cabin. My mouth fell open as I slammed the front door so the cold wouldn't come in. "What do you mean your staying here? Go to your own cabin..... I was here first!" I admit I sounded like a child but what was he doing here? We had made sure two guest cabins were empty before coming here.

"You were here first? Well that's fucking unfortunate" He replied sending me a glare before sitting on the edge of my bed and removing his belt containing his daggers, bending down to take off his boots too. Why was he looking at me like it was my fault?

I stomped over to him and stopped in front of him "Go to your own cabin! What are you even doing here?" I asked. Gods he was being irritating. Why wasn't he answering me with the truth instead of wasting my time?

He finally turned to look at me, having taken his boots off. His amber eyes looked deadly in this light and with his eyebrows furrowed like that I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking of killing me on the spot "I can't go to my cabin because it doesn't fucking exist. Understand? Or do you want me to show you a visual representation?" Gods I hated it when he was sarcastic. His head was tilted slightly waiting for my reaction.

I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes, anger would get me no where "What do you mean it doesn't exist? It was there in the morning so how has it just disappeared?"

He took a deep breath as well as if he were tired of talking to me, he ran a hand through his hair. Gods he was hot......I shook my head. Was my head screwed on straight?

"There was a fight. The cabin was....demolished during it" He explained. I raised an eyebrow "Who fought? Was it you?....Don't tell me it was you"

Azriel shrugged "It wasn't". I rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a big enough distance between us so I wouldn't start thinking about his looks or the way his hair was so pullable or the way his lips...

"Who did you fight with? Didn't Rhys send us with orders of keeping on the down. fucking. low?"

I could see his jaw clench as he refused to look at me "It doesn't matter who I fought with. Your just going to have suck it up and share the bed"

It took me great will power to not roll my eyes again. I took another deep breath "Go back to Velaris for the night"

He turned to me his eyebrows raised as if I had mentioned something stupid "What and leave you here with all those males who would love to fuck you and then slit your throat?"

I narrowed my eyes "First of all, who do you think you are telling me I can't handle a bunch of pricks. Second of all don't you dare underestimate me. Third of all-" I moved closer to him, a grin spreading as I looked at his slightly surprised expression "-are you jealous?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes "In your dreams, sweetheart" He replied, his eyes flicking down to where our legs touched and then back up to my face. I swallowed. This wasn't where I thought this conversation would go.

Luckily, the sound of the door banging gave me the opportunity to escape his hazel eyes. I opened the door to find that same Illyrian who had called me a whore. His expression however was different this time, as if he was forced to stand here and it was taking all his energy to not walk away. His face was also different. A black eye and what seemed to be a broken nose. He was also clutching his side rather strangely...as if he had broken a rib of some sort.

"What? Here to call me a whore again? Say it again. I fucking dare you" I could feel my blood rushing around my body, my fists clenched ready to punch the shit out of this asshole but unfortunately it looked like he had learnt moral decency.

He shifted from one foot to another, his wings folding and opening again before he cleared his throat "I uh...wanted to apologise for what I said earlier"

I raised an eyebrow "You do?"

He nodded his head but I could tell he meant the complete opposite "I shouldn't have called you a whore...I'm-" He cleared his throat again before wincing in pain, his hand clutching his side again. "I'm sorry" He rushed out quickly. I crossed my arms. I was tired. If I wasn't I would have asked him to repeat it.

"Okay well I don't accept your apology, you can go fuck yourself now" I closed the door in his face, locked the door and turned to Azriel eyeing him suspiciously.

"Did you know that guy?" I asked moving over to the bathroom and stopping outside the door to wait for his answer.

Azriel shook his head from where he was sitting on the bed "Nope. Never seen him. Looked pretty messed up didn't he?"

"Hmm" I replied not knowing what to say. I had a feeling Azriel had something to do with it. I went into the bathroom, changed out of my leathers and into my night clothes before stepping out. I wished and wished and wished I hadn't packed shorts for the night. It was already so cold the fire only doing so much if I sat in front of it. While I had been in the bathroom Azriel had changed too, having already laid down on his back, his arm over his eyes. I let out a sigh "So your not going back to Velaris?"

I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs while I tied my hair back. Azriel didn't look at me "No"

I let out another sigh "And your sure there's no other cabins free?". Azriel finally looked at me his lips pressed tightly together "I don't bite"

I rolled my eyes and layed down, the lights dimmed to it being almost pitch black except the silvery moonlight coming in from the window. I pulled the blanket over me and curled up so I had as much heat as possible. Gods it was cold.

After a few minutes of me trying to sleep but failing Azriel turned to his side and faced me. He didn't even have a blanket on "Your shaking the bed" He pointed out.

"It's cold" I turned onto my other side so I didn't have to look at his piercing gaze, just his one look making butterflies erupt in my stomach. "Your so dramatic" He muttered before I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him, until my back met his chest and I was engulfed in his warmth. I froze for a second not knowing what to do "Is this alright?" He whispered in my ear, his voice softer than I was used to. I bit back a smile and nodded my head, settling into his hold. This was so nice. So damn nice. I shouldn't have been enjoying it but I was. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and I couldn't help but realise that maybe being in Azriel's arms wasn't so bad.

part 2

MASTERLIST

[badomensbaby]

so into you. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke hemmings, a voice actor you've been working closely with for quite some time, ends up confessing just how into you he really is.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, degradation, praise kink, slight sir kink, dom/sub undertones, swearing, oral sex (female receiving), mask kink, explicit sexual content.

words: 4,680

a/n: iiiiii cannot express where i came up with this idea. i don't mention explicitly in this fic what video game luke's working on but in my head, it's COD MW3. (i may have a small obsession with ghost. whatever.) but alas, i left this fic alone for like a week and finished it on a whim. enjoy. x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

Ah, Luke Hemmings, the bane of your existence. 

It’s not that you hate him or anything, unless feeling so sick to your stomach because he’s too damn pretty to be working as a voice actor counts as hate, then maybe. But it’s really quite the opposite. 

You’ve been working at the video game development studio for almost two years. Your title has changed far too many times, as well as your responsibilities, but you get to see ideas come to life from the loose concept to the console screen so you can’t complain too much. 

Right now, you’re in the middle of a contract for a multiplayer war game. It’s a sequel, or a prequel- whatever, it doesn’t really matter. The franchise has been around for ages but they’re always coming up with new content and it’s part of your job to make sure every voice and cgi actor are dressed and ready to perform accordingly. 

Even though your manager can be a little overkill, like how he demands any voice actor be in full dress while they’re in the recording booth. It really doesn’t do much for their performance but your manager refuses to listen. 

You’re in the middle of skimming through your to-do list for the day. There’s three people who still need to get some lines of dialogue done for the storyline of the video game so it’s your responsibility to make sure they don’t fuck around in the booth all afternoon. First up, and is already late, is none other than Luke. 

It doesn’t surprise you. Despite looking like a total diva with his sharp jaw and soft, fluffy blonde curls that seem to be immune to any humidity, always laying so perfectly, he was probably the sweetest guy in the industry you’d ever met. Always polite and charming. Sometimes you think he might be flirting with you but it’s likely he’s just that nice. 

A paper cup of branded coffee suddenly invades your vision, blocking your view of the list you’ve been working on all morning. It’s warm and smells like cinnamon, your favorite. Looking up, way way up because he’s impossibly tall, is Luke, with a half-crooked smile and bright blue eyes. 

“Mornin’ Miss Y/N,” he says, despite the cheeriness on his face his voice is slightly raspy. You try not to think about it too much. It’s only eight am and you’re stuck listening to Luke in the booth until noon. “Blonde roast with cinnamon. You still drink that, right?”

Skeptically, you take the cup from him. Luke doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest by your hesitance. “Thank you?” It’s meant to be a statement but it slips out as more of a question. “Is this why you’re late, Hemmings?”

A glint of mischief flickers in his eyes. “Why, were you worried about me?”

Your stomach seems to flutter rather easily at his words. Shut up, brain! Luke’s a coworker, stop it. “We’ve only got four hours in the booth and almost fifty lines of dialogue,” You roll your eyes, trying to remain professional. “We need every minute we can get.”

“Fair enough, I’ll go get dressed. Have you got my gear ready?” Luke sips at his own drink and you can smell it from where you stand only a foot away. Chai tea latte with hazelnut. Man has taste. 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, trying to keep your eyes away from the frothy milk of his latte dribbling down the side of his lip. Christ. “Yeah everything’s ready to go. Just get your gear on and meet me in the booth.”

“Aye aye, captain,” The blonde mock-salutes you with a wink, before heading off to his dressing room down the hall. Thankful for the ability to properly breathe again, you quickly shake your head and go inside of the small recording studio and begin to organize the dialogue Luke’s meant to be working on this morning. 

It’s almost as if you forget how to operate when Luke steps into the small room. It’s only the two of you today, as the sound technician won’t be in until later but you have a decent grasp on which recorded lines will sound best in the final production. 

Luke’s already absurdly tall, well over six feet but with his full gear on he’s pushing halfway to seven feet. With thick combat boots on his feet, and full camo gear covering every inch of his lengthy body. A thick, heavy armor carrier plate is fixed against his chest, and his mask is held loosely in his hand. You force yourself to swallow the thick lump stuck in your throat. 

“Can you turn the air on?” Luke asks, oblivious to how you’re struggling to breathe when he looks like that. “M’gonna fuckin’ roast in there if you don’t.”

“Yeah- yeah, sure,” You stumble both verbally and physically, barely managing to catch yourself as you twist behind you to turn the air a little cooler in the small room. It won’t help the flush that’s spreading across every inch of your body. You can’t face him yet, so you pretend like changing the temperature is a little more time consuming than it really is. “You can go ahead whenever.”

The sound booth’s door shuts with a soft click. Your heart’s beating a little hard but at least there’s thick glass separating yourself and Luke now, and once you’re sitting with headphones on you’ll barely be able to see him. God, what a terrible time to remember that stupid masked man fantasy of yours. 

Luke does well, as usual, hitting the perfect low pitch for his character that your manager hired him for. He plays the character well, you have to admit, hearing his voice rasped and grovely is almost too much. You lower the volume on the headphones just to spare yourself the embarrassment of getting worked up. 

It’s eleven-thirty when he finishes up. Every line of dialogue is near perfect and you’re sure they’ll make production without a hitch, so you have no qualms about turning off the recording light that illuminates the hall outside of the small studio. 

You’re in the process of organizing the recorded files for the sound technician to look over when Luke steps out of the booth. 

Instead of peeling the mask from his head, he left it on, his gloved hands clasped on the doorframe a few inches above his head. Christ, he looks like he stepped out of a fairly inappropriate fantasy dream you could conjure up after a glass or two of wine. “Even got time to spare.”

You can tell Luke’s smirking beneath the black and white mask, if the glimmer in his baby blue eyes is anything to go by. You just blink, too dumb to come up with anything to say, pulling the headphones to rest around your neck. “Uh- you- you did great.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” his head cocks, helmet almost knocking into the side of the door frame but Luke doesn’t notice. “I love when you compliment me. I know you mean it.”

Your cheeks feel hot. It’s too warm in here, that’s all. Maybe the air isn’t working or something. “I do mean it,” you say softly. “You’re a great voice actor. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

Luke drops his hands from the door frame, instead leaning against it, his eyes still fixed on you. “You okay over there? You look a bit flushed.”

“M’fine sir- Luke,” You quickly clear your throat, hoping Luke hadn’t caught your stupid slip up. How fucking embarrassing, do you not have a filter? Suddenly a man all dressed up in gear and a mask has you calling him sir? Get a grip! 

“Sir?” Luke echoes, his voice syrupy sweet and laced with curiosity. “That’s a new one. Usually all I get from you is Hemmings. I like that, you should call me sir more often.”

You want to look away but it’s impossible. Like a damn car crash, your eyes are fixated on the tall man. It’s fucking sinful how good he looks like that. “It was- it was nothing, don’t read into it.” You deflect. 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke says sarcastically, followed up by a slow, dramatic sigh. “It’s a shame, though. Figured you’d finally admit you’re into me so I can stop pining after you in silence.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” 

A low laugh erupts from Luke’s chest. “Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, Y/N. I’ve been obsessed with you since day one. Why do you think we’re always working together?”

“My manager said I’m doing well-“

“That was after I gave him season passes to every game the Dodgers play, sweetheart. Told him I won’t work for him unless m’with you.”

Your brows knit in confusion. Has your growth within your position all been at Luke’s doing? You’ve been working with him nearly as long as you’ve been with the company. And suddenly it all makes sense. 

Why your manager never seemed to care what you’ve been working so hard for, complimenting you regardless of any efforts shown to him. Why he doesn’t hang around the studio anymore to micromanage your every move. 

You stand abruptly. “You asshole!” The words escape without a second thought. “You bribed my manager so you could work with me? That’s- that’s…”

“I thought you’d be flattered,” Luke says, almost somberly but you know he’s anything but. He’s a voice actor for crying out loud, he can make himself sound however he wants, regardless if it’s real. “What’s the big deal anyway? You have almost total freedom and you’re stuck with me all the time. It’s a win-win.”

Whatever attraction you have towards Luke is pushed to the back burner of your mind. Yeah, you have a stupid crush on him but how could he meddle with your job like that? The two of you aren’t even friends, he had no right.

“That wasn’t your decision to make. Who knows now if I’m doing well because of me or because of you? Terry could be spewing bullshit about my performance reviews to keep you happy!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Luke drones lazily. “Of course you’re doing well because of you. All I did was keep us working together, s’not like I fucking paid Terry off to give you a promotion.”

“I don’t know that!” You yell frustratedly, fists balling at your sides. “God- you- take that fucking mask off, would you?”

Luke remains still. “Now why would I do that?” he asks lowly, stepping toward you. Your shoulders draw inward, despite your attempt to keep confident. “Clearly it’s distracting you. Which I think is working in my favor.”

“It’s not.” You mutter weakly. 

“Liars aren’t cute,” Luke tuts. “What, does my mask get you all hot and bothered, Miss Y/N? Huh? Because I’m bigger than you? Because I can do anything I want to you and you can’t stop me?”

“Luke-“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Y/N,” his voice impossibly lowers, until it’s a hushed rasp, his chest only a mere few inches from yours. Craning your neck to look up at him easily makes you weak in the knees. You know he’s right and you can’t find the words to tell him otherwise. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your lip quivers nervously. The words are right there, the lie you could easily spew but it won’t make it off of your tongue. His eyes are too dark to resist, swirls of pretty blue swallowed by his pupils. Blown out and expectant. “You..”

“You can’t, can you? Because you know I’m right,” Luke continues, clearly feeding off of the nerves you’re trying to swallow down. It’s written all over your face, you’re sure of it. Like a book printed in size twenty bold font. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I see the way you look at me. I watch you quiver every time I put my gear on,”

Nothing escapes you except a helpless, trembling whimper. One of Luke’s gloved hands slowly raises to push a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Your eyes are nearly brimming with tears of frustration, of how badly you’re ready to give in to him, of how stupid you feel, wet and desperate between your thighs. It’s the mask, you try to tell yourself, but it’s useless because you know damn well it’s a lie. 

It isn’t the mask, rather the person behind it. Luke’s probably the most attractive person you’ve met in a long time, it was inevitable you’d end up crushing on him, but when he’s in full dress you can’t deny there’s something inside of you that seems to light a flame inside of you that’s impossible to put out. 

“What is it you like so much, hm?” Luke’s head cocks curiously, his cloudy eyes slowly raking over your body. You can tell he’s smirking beneath the mask at how tightly your hands are balled into fists at your sides, holding yourself back from doing something you shouldn’t. “You know what I think? I think you like giving up control. Obeying. Submitting. And when I’m dressed like this you really have no choice but to listen to me.”

“Luke..” your lips weakly spew the man’s name out. He seems to hum in content, he knows you’re close to giving in. He wants to push you over that line. Cross it with no shame. “I..”

Luke’s gloved hand grasps your jaw, firmly but delicately, so much so that it makes your head feel dizzy. “Speak up,” he demands lowly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I..” You can hardly meet his eyes. It’s pathetic of you, trembling like this and stuttering over yourself. Luke knows it too. “I want.. you.”

“Me?” He echoes, but it sounds a little demeaning the way it falls from his mouth. “You’re not giving me much to work with here, Y/N. Better spit it out.”

“I.. want..” Your eyes threaten to fall shut. You’ve never really been confident when it comes to sex but there’s something about the way Luke’s speaking to you that makes you feel a bit bold. Maybe it’s a leap but fuck, you won’t know unless you try. 

With a trembling, hesitant hand, you grasp Luke’s unoccupied wrist, slowly drawing his hand downwards until it’s caressing your clothed core. “You. Please.”

Luke actually whimpers. It could easily be mistaken for a breathy sigh but you’ve been listening to this man’s every vocality for years, you know nearly every noise he can make. “Christ, Y/N,” It’s as if he wasn’t expecting your bold move. “I swear to God I’ll fuck you right here. I will, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah- yes,” You frantically nod, too dizzy to provide any other words of confirmation. It’s all Luke needs, really, before he’s pressing his hand harder against your damp underwear, warm and inviting, he swears he can almost feel your arousal through his glove. “Luke, please.”

“Yeah, m’gonna take care of you, promise,” Luke releases your jaw, working to strip his gloves from his hands. You almost whimper from the loss of contact but you know what’s coming next is far better than a measly touch outside of your pants. “Gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

You whimper out something along the lines of “yes” that Luke seems to be satisfied with because he’s planting a firm hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, using his grip to shove your body forward until your palms collide with the sound booth’s desk. Careful to avoid pressing any buttons you shouldn’t, you adjust yourself slightly, breaths heavy as Luke shuffles behind you. 

You can feel how hard he is through the thick, camo pants he’s wearing, cock strained against the fabric and digging into your backside. Your toes curl inside of your shoes. He feels big. You feel Luke’s fingers tease at the waistband of your jeans. “Can I?”

“Yes- fuck,” You mutter through gritted teeth. There isn’t anything for you to properly hold on to while Luke’s fingers work to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before shimmying them down your hips and the swell of your ass, leaving them pooled just above your knees. 

“Don’t have a lot of time, Y/N, Mark’s up next isn’t he?” Luke slowly teases his fingers along the dampened material of your underwear, resulting in the soft arch of your back as your hips move closer to him. “Such a shame. The things I’d do for a taste of that pretty pussy..”

“Luke, can you just-“ You’re filled to the brim with frustration, desperately wet and on the edge of bratty at the amount of time Luke’s wasting. He seems to understand easily, because a hand comes down on your left cheek, leaving a pretty little pink handprint on your skin. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Luke says around a scoff, sliding your underwear down to join your jeans a little rougher than necessary. “Just for that, m’gonna fuckin’ do it. Don’t care if Mark comes in here to see my tongue deep inside your needy cunt.”

Luke’s words are sent straight to your core, stupidly wet and braindead from how badly you’re soaking the skin between your thighs. You hear the sound of Luke’s knees hitting the carpeted floor, the sound of his mask shuffling and the feeling of his warm breath on your flushed skin. 

Luke’s thumbs sink into your flesh easily, spreading you fully for him, your body falling further forward and ass in the air. You know you’re glistening pathetically, all for a hot blonde voice actor in some stupid war gear. “Y/N, you’re fuckin’ drenched. Holy shit,” Luke mumbles in disbelief. “You’re so goddamn pretty.”

You aren’t sure if Luke’s going to continue speaking but it doesn’t matter, his tongue’s busy trailing a fat, long stripe along your heat. Christ, his tongue is so goddamn warm, humming happily against you as he works, alternating between suckling your clit between his teeth and nuzzling his nose against you. Like he just can’t get enough. 

Blindly, your hand slips and without either of you being aware, the recording light outside of the small room has been illuminated. 

“You taste so fucking good, Y/N. So goddamn good,” He hums again before diving back in, practically fucking his tongue inside of you every which way, like he’s claiming you and drawing his name with every lick. You let out a soft, helpless cry when his teeth graze your clit again. “Could eat your pretty pussy for hours, baby. Wanna spread you out on my bed like a fuckin’ feast.”

“Luke-“ Your voice wobbles, a desperate breath following. You’re so fucking lightheaded it’s insane, all you crave is Luke inside of you. “Luke, please. Please fuck me.”

“Yeah baby, gonna fuck you,” Luke presses a quick, messy kiss against your clit before he pulls back, running his tongue along his lips to gather any excess. You don’t hear him slip the mask back on but you definitely hear his belt unbuckle, along with the fly of his camo pants. “Look at you, what a fuckin’ dream. Bent over and fuckin’ soaked, begging for my cock.”

The sound of Luke tearing a condom packet open with his teeth catches your attention. You hardly have enough strength to look over your shoulder but he’s already rolling the latex over his dick that’s just out of your view. “Where did you get-“ You don’t get to finish your sentence because the words die out in your throat, replaced with a strangled gasp as you feel the head of Luke’s cock slowly trail up your wetness. “Oh, fuck.”

Luke makes a smug, pleased sound before slowly pressing inside of you. And yeah, fuck, he’s definitely bigger than anyone you’ve slept with. Which, honestly, hasn’t been very many people. “Yeah, that’s it,” You hear Luke sigh behind you, hands attaching to your hips as he continues to feed his dick further inside. “Fuck, you’re swallowing my cock up. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

It’s almost too much. Your eyes pinch shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip to keep the tears at bay. He’s stretching you out so good every inch he sinks inside, until he’s buried to the hilt and stills his hips. “Luke.. fuck, you’re- you’re big.”

You hear Luke chuckle behind you. His fingertips press harder into your hips. “What’s the point of being so cocky if I don’t have anything to show for it?” he says, amused but a little breathless. He’s just as affected by your tight warmth as you are by his sizable dick. “Don’t tell me it’s too much for you, Y/N. You’re a big girl, I know you can take it.”

“Just.. give me a minute?”

“We don’t have enough time, baby,” Luke says soothingly, almost somberly. “I promise you’ll get used to it.”

You intake a sharp, quick breath as Luke withdraws his hips. It’s definitely too big. There’s no way you’ll be able to fuck anyone ever again without remembering how full Luke made you feel.

 Then Luke snaps his hips forward and the tears you were desperately trying to hold back fall freely down your cheeks. A borderline scream falls from your mouth and you tighten around his dick, only drawing a groan deep from Luke’s throat as he begins thrusting in a steady, needy rhythm. 

So quick and forceful that the sound of his hips snapping against your backside echoes the sound room. So desperate that your body falls forward, chest splayed against the desk and Luke’s carrier plate wedged into your back, his masked breaths deep and warm on your neck. You cry out from the new angle, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. “Oh fuck- Luke- god- right there, fuck-“

“Yeah?” Luke asks in a low moan, digging his blunt fingernails into your waist as his thrusts grow more determined and quick, your body rucking upwards from his forceful movements. All you can do is wail and whine against the desk helplessly. “God, Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Lettin’ me fuck you, such a good girl.”

Your position is definitely uncomfortable but you’re too cockdrunk to even care. You know you’ll cum soon, especially when Luke’s fucking you at such a brutal pace there’s a tingling that’s spreading from your toes all the way to your spine. You clench around Luke’s cock, only soaking your thighs further as more arousal coats his covered length. 

“Baby, fuck,” Luke’s voice is strained, one hand detaching from your hip to grab at your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers, craning your neck upwards until his masked mouth settles near your ear. “You’re fuckin’ soakin’ my cock, Y/N. Wonder what Mark would think if he found me buried in this sweet little pussy, huh? Think he’d be jealous? Of how desperate you are for me?”

“Oh my god-“ You know it’s coming, your legs feel like static and your head is spinning. Your vision’s beginning to blur as the beginning of your orgasm starts to crash over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Luke-“

“Call me sir,” He’s fucking relentless, pounding into you like he’s got something to prove. It’s messy and slippery and wet, echoing the small room. “Call me sir and you can cum, Y/N.”

“Oh sir, oh my god sir-“

“Come on baby, that’s it, cum all over my cock,” Luke coaxes you, breathing warmly against the skin of your neck. Your nails scratch desperately on the desk as you finally let go, letting out a long string of pleading moans as you finish, clenching tightly around him. “Oh christ- Y/N- yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“Oh my god..” Luke doesn’t stop even after you’ve finished, snapping his hips more forcefully than before. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Luke pants out. “Wanna cum all over your pretty face. Can I? Please baby, want it so bad.”

“Ye-yeah,” You half mumble, half moan. 

Your body’s in Luke’s hands as he quickly slips out of you, discarding the condom and wrapping a hand around himself, helping you slink back until you’re on your knees. Confused, you’re unable to question why you’re facing the wrong way until Luke’s hand is on your jaw and tilting your head backwards. 

And that’s a fucking view. It’s upside down, Luke’s masked face staring down at you as his hand works furiously over his leaking, hard cock, groaning and panting. “Fuck, open your mouth.”

You comply, happily letting your tongue fall flat over your lower lip, eyelashes fluttering until you hear a low, guttural groan from Luke’s throat, painting your cheeks and lips and eyelashes in pretty ropes of milky white. 

“Ohhh fuck,” Luke’s strokes slow, milking himself until every last drop is coating some part of your face. “Fuck Y/N… you look so goddamn pretty covered in my cum.”

What doesn’t stay on your face ends up dribbling onto your t-shirt. You don’t really care at the moment, fucked dumb as you curiously swipe your tongue along anywhere you can reach to taste Luke’s release. You let out a soft, pleased and rasped, “Thank you, sir.”

Luke finds some tissues to clean you up, helping you slide your underwear and jeans back on. Once you’ve regained your breath, and began the short trip back to reality, you feel your cheeks grow stupidly hot. Luke slips his mask off. 

“Where the hell is Mark?” he asks curiously. 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You ask in a soft voice. You really want to ask what this means, the two of you hooking up like this. Was he actually into you or using that as an excuse to get in your pants? 

“He’s like thirty minutes late,” Luke shrugs, running a hand through his flattened curls. “Why? What’re you worried about?”

Your mouth clasps shut. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” You turn away, busying yourself with the paperwork you’d brought inside with you. “I have more recording sessions to do. And you probably have somewhere to be.”

“Y/N..” Luke frowns. 

“What?” You snap unintentionally, turning to face Luke with narrowed eyes. “What, Luke?”

“This wasn’t like..” he trails off, looking a bit nervous. It almost makes you feel bad for snapping at him like that. “A one-time thing for me, Y/N. I.. I’m into you.”

“Really?” You ask softly. “You’re not just saying that because I let you.. fuck me?”

“No,” Luke slips out a short chuckle, stepping towards you. “No, I told you m’obsessed with you. This only makes it worse. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“We can talk about this after my recording sessions, alright Hemmings?” Your lips lift into a soft, almost shy smile. Luke does the same, his eyes hopeful. 

“Maybe over dinner?” He asks. 

“Pick me up at six.” You counter. 

Luke dips to press a soft kiss against your cheek. “Text me your address. I’ll go figure out where Mark is and kick his ass for being late.”

You roll your eyes. “If he would’ve been on time that wouldn’t have ended well for both of us, Hemmings,” Luke’s halfway out the door, pausing and turning to you with a sly grin. “What? What is it?”

“Someone left the recording light on. No wonder Mark didn’t bother,” Luke chuckles, amused. “Hey.. I wonder what else we did by accident..” His eyes flicker towards the sound table’s knobs and buttons, your own widening in fear. Which switches were off before? You hadn’t paid attention to anything when your chest was pressed against it. Fuck, what if you-

You turn to reprimand Luke for putting that thought into your head but he’s gone. Before you text Mark, letting him know that you’re available to record, you double check the recording logs for anything out of the ordinary. With pink cheeks, you text Luke your address and a vague note. 

you: [123 Main St]

you: also.. seems we might’ve had an accident. 

you: file.mp3

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter two: the arrival

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings:  language, heavy mentions of sex, brief and non-specific mentions of Bucky’s past

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: so excited for you guys to read! sorry ive been MIA recently -- the first half of august will be extremely stressful for me as I have my drivers theory test on the 10th, then I find out if I get into uni on the 15th, hopefully all goes well but you never know!! so for that reason, I haven't been able to write much since posting the first chapter, so updates might be every 2 weeks or so! im so sorry </3, but as always, please let me know how you're finding the story!!!!

The wedding band offers you a strange comfort as you twist it around and around your fingers, staring out of the window of the private jet. It’s a simple golden band, with your initials and Bucky’s engraved onto the inner edge. You hate it, but are too ashamed to vocalise it. It was less than a week ago that you were sobbing on the floor about pretending to be married, and now the wedding band, his initials rubbing against your skin on the inside of it gives you solace?

Bucky notices, because of course he does. He moves to sit directly in front of you, and you turn to him. Officially, the two of you are on the clock now, and so you keep your face impassive, instead of scowling or staring angrily at him. He leans back in his seat, shoving his hands into the dark leather jacket you’re all too familiar with, slouching. He’s wearing jeans the same colour as his eyes, and a red henley that’s just peeking through the top of the jacket. Average, suburban white guy, with a bit of New York flair. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week.” He states simply, like it’s the most abhorrent fact he’s ever had the displeasure of narrating. You nod, trying your best to not let a snarky remark sneak past your lips, currently coloured in a sheer red. 

“I don’t want to get sick of you too soon. It’s the longest we’ve ever been on any mission. You remember Bucharest, right? How we were almost at each other’s throats in two weeks, and because of us poor Sam spent a week in the medbay? I don’t want that to happen again.” He glances down at the memory, as if humiliated by the outcome of that mission. You know you are — you still check Sam’s hands to see if he’s still healing. You assume he’s done with talking to you and turn to stare back out the window, admiring the green fields and fluffy clouds.

“I understand. But that means we haven’t talked about anything. Like our cover story, how I proposed. Or how affectionate we’re going to be with each other.” 

“Well, you’re still going as James Barnes, aren’t you?” Realistically, you should’ve said The Winter Soldier. That’s what you mean, and he knows that. But you can’t bring yourself to say it, to remind him of everything he’s trying to escape from. It seemed to be an unspoken boundary between the two of you, that you’ll never throw that title in his face, especially when you’ve seen the way he retracts from society and begins to shake in his seat at those three words, regardless of who uses them. His past, before you knew him, you decide to leave untouched. You couldn’t live with yourself if you belittled him and shamed him for things that happened to him, things that he was never in control of.

You’ve read the case files. You know the atrocities. You can’t do that to him. Even if he chose to cross that line, you can’t wound him in such a way, especially not for petty revenge. You want to annoy him, yes, but you don’t want him to truly ache irrevocably because of you. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

“Yes. And you’re still going as you?” You nod, gears turning in your head.

“We can say we met in Wakanda, and we were friends for 5 years. You were hopelessly in love with me the whole time, obviously. But I only started seeing you as more than a friend after… we went to a friend’s wedding together, and I didn’t have a partner so I dragged you along with me. When they exchanged their wedding vows, I realised that what you and I had was special, and that you’re ridiculously handsome. And the rest is history.” You shrug, hating that you’ll have to admit to his stupid, pretty face that he has a stupid pretty face.

“How’d you come up with that? You don’t really seem the romance type…”

You think for a moment, reabsorbing the insult that you almost fire at him. Is he implying that you’re a slut, again?

“Just because I’ve never been serious about anyone before, doesn’t mean I’m a heartless monster, James. I’ve read books, and seen TV shows. I prefer romance, to remind myself that somehow, sometimes, men can be at least decent.” Your eyes bore into his then, silently expressing your anger. “And I’d really appreciate it if half of your insults toward me aren’t slutshaming. Keep it to yourself.” You can’t help it.

His eyebrows furrow, and somehow he looks even sexier. God, you hate how your sexual attraction toward him peaks when he’s civil with you. “What? I’ve never…”

“Yes you have, don’t lie. Almost every other sentence you say to me, you mention me sleeping around. Now, I don’t give a fuck what you think, but it’s beginning to get annoying. You wanna get your marks up? Find some new material.”

“Butterscotch, no. That’s—That’s not what I mean. You’re the only person I’m ever around who’s had so much sex, but it’s not a bad thing. Definitely not a bad thing. It just genuinely seems to me that whenever I see you, you’re always planning to hook up with someone. That’s why. I’m not shaming you for having sex, do whatever the fuck you want. I’m sorry if I made it seem otherwise, or if that’s why you hate me.” You’re constantly shifting between staring out the window, and at him, but when he apologises you can’t help but give yourself whiplash, wondering if he’s joking.

A million more questions circle your mind, and your anger flares up before you can stop it. You stand up, walking over to where he sits. He watches your face, as you grip the armrests and lean down so you’re uncomfortably close to him. He gets flustered so quickly, it’s another one of your favourite weaknesses of his to exploit. “You think that’s why I hate you? I hate you, because you’re an arrogant, self-centred bitch, who’s only ever treated me like shit.” In truth, he’s only arrogant and self-centred when it comes to you. To everyone else, he’s as sweet and humble as they come, and that’s what bothers you the most. 

That he’s chosen to have some personal vendetta against you from the very first night he met you, when you tried to be kind. You greeted him, smiled at him, bought him a vinyl player and limited edition vinyls from the 40s in mint condition for his fucking birthday, and all he ever was, was cruel to you. He scowled, he turned away from you. He all but threw your thoughtful gift across the room and fled from the birthday party.

That was your breaking point, when you decided that he’s not worth it. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was fresh out of Wakanda at the time, and you thought that maybe he was just having trouble reintegrating into society, what with the hell he’d been through. But then, you noticed the way he spoke to Nat with a wide smile on his face, how he loved to laugh with the other agents, and you noticed it was just you that he was still closed-off and horrid to. That’s when you began to be cruel, began to insult him and scowl right back, mirroring his expressions 

You’d never done it before then, but it felt so natural, so deserved. And then it had become second nature, as easy as blinking, or finding someone new to sleep with. It’s even more embarrassing to admit that you’d found yourself, for the first time, having strong and true romantic feelings for someone, and then he shut you down like that. How could you not? With a face like that, and an unwavering passion in those cobalt eyes, how could you not form some semblance of attachment? 

You briefly remember the way you’d acted around him, like a giggling schoolgirl who’s just dipped her toes into the dating world. How naive you had been, how foolish. It all just makes you grimace now, fuelling the flames of your hatred all that much more.

He searches your eyes, trying to dig beneath all the malice. As if you’d let him. He must know that to poke the bear is futile at this stage, because he decides to change the topic.

“And what about me proposing? How long have we been married? Where did we go on our honeymoon?” Your faces are so close…if he were half a decent person you wouldn’t leave any room for him to even breathe at this current second.

“Don’t tell me I’m gonna carry all the braincells on this mission, Barnes.” You retreat back to your seat, slumping over yourself, trying to ignore all of the bitter memories that have just been dragged to the forefront of your mind. 

A brief silence descends over the two of you, and you swivel your attention once again to the landscape outside, buckling your seatbelt as the flight attendant announces that you’re about to land.

“One day, I asked you over to my apartment, on our three year anniversary. December 22nd. I cooked you your favourite meal, chicken biryani with that raita that you like, and red velvet cake for dessert. It was a candlelit dinner in my tiny apartment, with a red tablecloth the same colour as your dress. After the dinner I asked you to marry me, reciting stanzas and stanzas of prose about how beautiful and amazing you are, and how in love with you I am. Then, we made love until dawn, obviously.” 

A smile graces your face at his last words, at how innocent he appears when he refers to having sex as making love. The sentiment is sweet.

His seeming innocence catches you off guard at times — he’s been amongst all the agents and Avengers for eight years now, as opposed to your 13. The agents are always throwing themselves at him, especially those not into women, at all. You’ve often assumed he hooks up with most of them, seeing as Steve’s often recounted stories of what a charmer he was back in the 40s. And when he’s nice, you doubt anyone could resist him.

So why does he seem so new and inexperienced to most things? Another mystery you can’t be asked to solve.

“God, you’re just dying to have sex with me, aren’t you?” You tease, letting your grin  mould into something a little more sadistic, indicating that the thick, putrid air of a few minutes ago has passed.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, the story pretty much requires it.”

You nod in mockery. “Uh huh, of course. You pervert, we’re not going to tell anyone that. The idea of premarital sex will probably give half the kids in those suburbs a heart attack.” His eyes rake up and down your figure, and you give him your most salacious grin. You usually reserve it for men across the bar, when you catch them checking you out. It’s reserved for inviting them over for casual conversation and bathroom sex.

On Bucky? It flusters him to hell and back when he’s on the receiving end of it. Just like it is right now, as he tries desperately to hide the blush that’s spreading quickly across his cheeks. He swallows, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob against his throat in an almost predatory manner.

It’s in moments like these you’ve often thought about hate sex. Specifically with Bucky, about what it would be like to pull on his hair, to boss him around like you usually enjoy to. Would he listen to you? Or would he bark orders of his own at you, gripping at every inch of you desperately? But you’re scared, because he’s the first person to ever make you want to pursue them romantically, and you’re scared all the hate will melt away with every gentle yet scorching touch, leaving you vulnerable.

You hate being vulnerable.

“We’ve only been married a month, and we went to Spain for our honeymoon. We just got back two weeks ago to finish packing.” He completes, and it seems simple enough. You notice how his voice shakes ever so slightly, still influenced by the way you look at him, and the way he refuses to make eye contact. 

“Sounds good. We’ll stick with that then.” You offer, not bothering to look at him twice as you leave the jet and step into the family sedan that Bucky’ll be driving.

You sigh as you sink into the passenger seat in a car that smells too clean, staring out the window as if bored. You wonder if either of you will be able to not kill the other in these six months.

In your mind, you either fuck or fight it out. There’s no other way you’re emerging. 

You wonder which option he’d choose, studying him as he settles in beside you, so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s taken off his leather jacket and shoved it to the backseat, exposing his arms and—his left arm is no longer metal.

He catches you staring — he’s always looking for an excuse to stare at you. “Fury handed it to me after the initial briefing. It fits over my arm like a second skin, so it looks normal. I’m supposed to be trying to get back that normal life, remember? Fury said it’ll help disillusion and distance me from The Winter Soldier in these civilian’s minds.” Somehow, it sends a pang through your heart, still, at the way he’s trying to not lose his shit and start crying at even the thought that they’ll still see him as an empty weapon, a vessel for unimaginable evil. You soften.

“Here, let me drive — you just learned what a car was, like, six months ago. Plus it’s manual. I know Steve only let you learn automatic. Come on, stop being a bitch and switch with me.” You’re goading him, holding out your hand for the keys as he blindly stares at the console, trying to process how you know that fact about him. 

Steve and you are close, best friends even. That’s why. He turns off the engine and does as he’s told, mind probably currently too occupied with awful memories to register you’re being soft with him.

As you settle into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors as he stares down into his lap. “Besides, when you walk in there unarmed and without a murderous look on your face, they’ll know, James. It’s been years.” Your tone is too gentle, too gentle considering your history. But you can’t help yourself, and you let your hand gently touch his arm even though he won’t feel it. He looks up, and you see his eyes brimming with tears.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if they see right through me?” His voice is so small, unlike any tone he’s ever taken with you.

“It will. It will work, they won’t see right through you. If they know who you are, you know they followed your trial, your rehab in Wakanda. They know you were pardoned. And they’ll know when you treat all the kids with respect, because you’re good with them. When you help the seniors cross the road, when you help the sexy neighbour with her groceries. They’ll know, because you’re good. You have a good heart, and you treat almost everyone you know with nothing but love and affection. Just because I’m not on the receiving end of it, doesn’t mean I can’t see that. Trust your gut, James. It’ll all be fine. And if I can pull off being in love with you, they’ll definitely see it too. I’ll sing your praises to everyone in town, I’ll do everything to convince them if I have to. Because that’s the only way our cover will work. This is official business, James. This isn’t you and me around the Tower, or sparring in the gym. Just trust me here, okay?” You don’t know why you’re sympathetic, you don’t know why you care. You don’t know why you’re saying all of these things like you’re falling in love with him, all you know if that he’s falling apart and you have to try and stop it.

You have to try and be there for him, gripping his hand between both of yours, trying to offer a physical reminder that he’s in the car with you, not back in that horrid lab or in the sterile courtroom as some bald, red-faced lawyer tries to write him off as the most heinous cretin to disgrace this planet. You look at him and he looks at you and the tension is almost palpable, like you could cut it with a knife. You have no idea what’s happening to you.

“Okay.” He says quietly, his thumb stroking the side of your hands. Sam beeps the horn behind you, him and Steve posing as the movers and carriers you and James have hired. 

It startles you out of the moment, reminding you of your rapid heart, beating so fervently against the jail of your ribs that you feel it in your fingertips. You turn to the road ahead, signalling to the PARKER PACKERS AND MOVERS truck towing behind you. You swallow, hopefully taking any softness for Bucky along with it.

It’s going to be a long six months.

NEXT PART

[reminiscingtonight]

Sisters know better that one was so good

Sisters Know Best Blurb

Tick.

Ana’s as stiff as a statue next to you. Even with your hand on her knee she can’t seem to relax.

Tock.

Finding her hand with yours, you gently interlace your fingers together, hoping the direct skin contact would help a bit.

It doesn’t.

Tick.

Ana’s leg starts bouncing and it takes all of your power not to kick at it. Ana knows how much you hate it. But you also know it’s a nervous tick for her.

Tock.

Sighing, you pull your eyes away from your lover. Lia meets your gaze with a smirk from across the table, looking like she’s having the time of her life.

“Lia, come on, cut her some slack,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

The three of you have been sat in at the restaurant for nearly ten minutes now, the older two girls remaining silent as they wait for the other to say something.

Ana’s been understandably terrified since the moment you told her Lia knew about your relationship. The humiliation of being caught scaling down your tree dissipated the second she realized being caught meant Lia saw her.

What began as a laidback and relaxing start to your vacation soon became the bane of your existence.

You were expecting a confrontation sometime soon, but neither of you expected the invitation to lunch at a nice little place a few miles from home mere hours after Lia revealed she knew about the two of you.

“You look like you’re about to shit your pants, Ana,” Lia snorts.

Ana’s eye twitches, but she doesn’t let anything else slip. “I think you’d be terrified too if you were in my shoes.”

Lia tilts her head in question at her friend’s words. “Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Ana frowns. “Are you... not?”

Both of you wait with bated breath as Lia seems to think it through. Though your worries seem for naught when her lips split into a huge grin.

“Ana, you’re my favorite person in the world. No one else I’d trust more. I’m more than delighted that the two of you are seeing each other.”

A tiny smile floats to Ana’s face, body slightly relaxing at Lia’s words. “Really?”

Lia nods, about to repeat how happy she is for you guys when you jump in.

“Wait, hold on. Favorite person in the world? What am I? Dead meat?” you complain, pout quickly forming when your girlfriend and sister both start snickering at you.

Send me a fic title

[bbarnesbby]

Through the back door

Pervy!contractor!Joel Miller x fem!reader

(photos from pinterest, and not an accurate representation of how the reader is perceived in their appearance)

Summary: A fresh faced personal assistant catches Joel’s eye whilst working on his current job, and who can blame him for going after what he wants? Even if it takes some convincing…

Words: 2k

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dark!Joel Miller, Joel is VERY crude and pervy here, he's also very forward, creepy men, catcalling, groping, coercion, lots of sexual innuendos, but no actual smut, my lil brain knows nothing about construction sites or contractors and it shows<3, my dyslexia lol

!! I do not consent to or accept any instance in which my works are copied, edited, reposted or translated on tumblr or any other website. !!

!! Please also note that this is fan fiction and I would never tolerate the themes in this being repeated in the real world. I am not responsible for what you consume on this website, all warnings are given and if you don't feel comfortable with them then your opinion is valid and understandable, but not invitation to hate on or shame this fanfic !!

Thank you and please enjoy <33

The repetitive click of your heels on the dusty pavement below you seems to be the only thing you can hear over your laboured breathing as you rush to get back to the office building, the place that could only affectionately be described as your own personal hell.

When you'd first gotten the job, the ambiguously labelled title you had been assigned did confuse you at first. However, now as you grip the holder for four coffees in one hand, and a bag carrying a series of different flavoured salads, sandwiches, and kinds of pasta in the other, you realise it was all to cover up what you'd really be.

A bottom-of-the-barrel personal assistant.

The job itself isn't one you would complain about, everyone has got to start somewhere after all, especially coming straight out of college. It's just the assholes you work for that make you long for an escape.

Young men with no degree, making them easily less qualified than you, having the audacity to make requests that must be completed in unrealistic time frames seem to be the bane of your existence. The fact they have the power to do so only down to the fact they have family working the important positions in other branches of the company.

That and the thing hanging between their legs.

Pushing your thoughts of distaste aside, you glance at your wristwatch as you round the last corner of your journey before the building is in sight. You notice you've got a good five minutes before you're eligible for a scolding from your boss and let out a sigh of relief.

But as you get closer to your destination, you notice construction tape seems to have materialised around the walkway to the office building in the fifteen minutes you were gone, men already drilling into the ground you need to walk over to get where you need to be.

As you hurry to the now construction site, you stand for a moment confused, huffing as you look around for anyone who could help you in your predicament.

Your eyes scan a group of men standing by the bed of a pickup truck, presumably talking about their job at hand. You walk along the makeshift fence made up of scuffed traffic cones and more construction tape until you're near enough parallel to the truck, not crossing the tape out of concern you may disrupt whatever's going on.

"Excuse me?" Voice loud enough to be heard but still polite, you gain the attention of a couple of the men, their averted gazes prompting those who didn't initially hear you to look over too. A small but friendly smile pulls at your lips but soon falters when a few of them let out their renditions of low whistles and unsavoury comments towards you.

"You alright, pretty lady?" One of them smirks, dark, invasive eyes giving you a once over as he runs his hand over his dark brown, almost black, hair.

Was this building a magnet for sleazy male stereotypes or something?

"Um, I work here." You stumble over the statement slightly, the discomfort you feel under his penetrative stare affecting your speech as you weakly point at the building behind them.

"Yeah, no shit." The same man darkly chuckles along with a couple of the other workers, eyes raking your form, clad in a blouse and pencil skirt. But you feel you might as well be naked in front of them, stuck there like a deer in headlights as they continue to ogle your body. Before he can make any other comments, he's lightly pushed to the side as another man approaches.

"Shut up, Tommy..." His voice is deep and commanding but has a playful nature behind it, the two of them clearly well acquainted with one another.

He looks to be older than the men around him, broad frame imposing as he comes to where the tape separates you from him. Although, the way he carries himself suggests he's probably in a position where he could do whatever he wanted with the equipment on the site, but have no one to answer to for it.

"How can I help, sweetheart?" He sounds friendly enough but has that dirty, smug look on his face that tells you he's not any better than the men who'd previously been eyeing you like a piece of meat.

Despite the sickly feeling that swirls in the pit of your stomach when looking at him, you realise he's probably your best shot at getting you where you need to be.

"I need to get back in the building," your voice is timid as you try to avoid the burly man's gaze, opting to look back to where men are starting to pull up the concrete slabs that once made up your path back into your workplace. Though the pause after you've spoken prompts you to glance back up at him, catching him looking down the gap between your chest and slightly unbuttoned blouse, "I work here-"

"Yeah, you've said that." he cuts you off with a smirk, taking in your mortified expression before looking over the construction site with a huff. "Well my boys are pretty deep in their work now, and I can't have ya walking through here when we've got equipment running," he gives you another once over, "don't want a pretty girl like you getting hurt, do we?"

He's smiling again, but you see straight through it and tense at the realisation these men will be working here for god knows how long.

"What should I do then?" You ask with furrowed brows, readjusting your hold on the coffees that now uncomfortably weigh down your hand.

"I mean I could carry ya over," he laughs as though it's a joke, but first impressions tell you he'd jump at the opportunity to get his filthy hands on you -- no matter the circumstance, "how bout I take you in the backdoor?"

The way he worded the innuendo didn't fly over your head the way you wish it did, and the combination of his comment and the way he's now running his pink tongue over his bottom lip making you feel sick in multiple ways.

You reluctantly nod, just wanting to get back to work and away from this man. The obnoxious nepo babies that unfairly dominated your field of work suddenly felt like prince charmings in comparison to the man now stepping over the flimsy barrier that once separated you. But as he came that small distance closer, you couldn't help but feel some attraction to his broad frame and tan skin. And those arms...

His slight chuckle pulls you out of your thoughts, wide eyes snapping up to meet his leering expression as prickling heat floods your face in embarrassment.

"C'mon, I'm Joel by the way," he tilts his head, gesturing for you to walk in front of him. It's a request you realise most likely has ulterior motives, but you do so anyway after muttering your name in return.

Rounding the corner, you falter for a moment as the cluttered alley comes into view. Your gut instinct is screaming at you to tell Joel that he can fuck right off back to wherever he came from, but you figure that would cause more commotion than the slim possibility he'd try anything in broad daylight.

But as you carry on down the alley and squeeze past a particularly cluttered area of multiple dumpsters and bins, you become more uncomfortable as he spews another innuendo about how 'it's real tight, huh?'

His irksome behaviour soon becomes less of an annoyance and more of a concern though.

Once you're past the worst of the clutter you soon realise that it wasn't just an obstacle, but also serves as a wall -- blocking any further view for anyone passing by.

Turning around, you merely stand there as Joel comes closer. His daunting frame becomes more intimidating in the dim light of the narrowing lane you now find yourself trapped in, helpless.

"Doors just there," he mutters while pointing to the slightly beaten-up side door to the left of you, a twisted attempt at making you believe you still have any control over this situation.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nod at him with your eyes still locked. You'd prefer him to leave before you turn your back to him, but when he makes no move to do so, you quickly rush to the door in the hopes you may be faster than him.

But faster you are not.

First, you feel the heat radiating off of him, and then you feel the hard chest, the wandering hands, the grinding hips. As he invades your space and presses himself against your back, you try to squirm away, but only end up pinning yourself between the door and his imposing body.

"Where you tryna go, sweetheart?" His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and to places that make your body hot with shame. "You really wanna go back in there? Where those people are just gonna treat you like shit?"

His hips continue to grind into your ass, becoming more calculated rather than ravenous, as though his words and body are working as one to persuade you.

"I know those guys, they'll chew you up and spit you out." His words become harsh and his rough hands harsher, beginning to untuck your blouse from your pencil skirt, reaching up until his fingers are splayed across your stomach. The skin-on-skin contact is undeniably thrilling, as he now caresses it with finesse.

"So fuckin' soft," he mutters into your hair, inhaling before releasing a rumbling groan, "I'd treat you like the sweetest thing, baby."

You grimace at his words, far too much commitment behind them, leaving you spiralling into another panicked frenzy. You squirm again, this time having more success as you're able to turn to face him, although not fully able to escape his unrelenting hold yet. Facing him, you see how dark his eyes have become, set on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

His hair is slightly tousled, the way he'd previously been ravaging your body having that effect. You realise there's no way you can persuade him to stop his pursuit of you, so you decide to cave, at least you hope he thinks so.

"Let's not do this here." You say it quietly so as to not come off too demanding, peering up at him through your lashes in a way that you hope looks innocent enough for him to believe it. "Wouldn't you wanna do this someplace comfier," your voice switches from scared to sultry, “hm?”

He quirks a brow at this, slowing his assault on your body to a stop, but not yet taking his hands off of you, “you wanna do this somewhere else, sweetheart?”

The pet name still irks you, but provides some ease in telling you your comment hasn’t pissed him off at all. Trying to run along with your manipulative escape, you nod up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and pushing your own crotch closer to his. You tell yourself it’s all for the bigger picture, but you can’t ignore the way your body has come more accustomed to his touch in such a short period of time.

"Mhm,” you’re nodding again, placing a hand on his firm chest, and slowly, teasingly, sliding it lower, “do this where you can take real good care of me… Show me what I'm missing?"

There's a pause, his expression unreadable as he continues to penetrate your façade with his stare. His lack of response has you rethinking your words, brows twitching as more sick scenarios of what could ensue consume your thoughts. But then a dark chuckle fills the tense silence, Joel shaking his head as he smirks down at you. Stepping back, he tucks his hands into his pockets and gives you one last once over before nodding his head and making his way back down the alley.

"I'll keep an eye out," are his last words before he disappears past the trash and clutter, out of sight.

But maybe not quite out of mind...

-----

First fic done! All likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and I am open to requests on future fic ideas you may have<33

[amethystviolist]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thanks to @shipper47 for tagging me! I'm a bit late to respond but very excited to participate :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

Looks like 32! Wow, a lot more than I expected.

What's your total AO3 word count?

174,720!

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

I don't think this should be the only measure of fic worth, but sure, here we go!

A Hairy Misunderstanding [Bagginshield]

Merlin Has a Dragon (And Other Revelations) [Merthur/Gen]

Impacts of Literal and Metaphorical Natures [Merthur/Gen]

Pine For a Bead (Or, Girlfailure Greenleaf) [Gimleaf/Gigolas]

Anything [...Destiel]

Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I reply to almost every comment! I love getting them, and it's often a great excuse to gush about the characters or my behind-the-scenes writing thoughts.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Phone Call. On-screen major character death hits hard!

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Oh, almost all the rest are very happy endings! Off the top of my head, I'm thinking of my most recent fic Home Looks Like You - 4k of ReShirement and Parentshield fluff, ending in a family cuddle pile.

Do you write crossovers?

I've never written crossovers with characters meeting each other, as that's not usually my jam - but I've dabbled in putting characters into another fandom, like my abandoned WIP The Order of the Silver Ship [TAZ: Balance characters in the world of ATLA].

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no, never. I've gotten the occasional "off" comment and once a spammer of some sort, but nothing truly vile. Let's hope it stays that way!

Do you write smut?

Yes! It's fun! I think my only AO3-published smut is Iron Must Suffice [Bagginshield].

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also thankfully no! Not to my knowledge, anyway. I'll hope that streak continues as well!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! The two previously-mentioned Merlin fics were translated into Chinese, though the website that hosted them apparently scrubbed all queer content a while back and sadly lost those translations with it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and it was so much fun!! I participated in an event called The Hobbit: An Unexpected Collaboration (THAUC) this past October, and my assigned partner @mrmrbaggins and I wrote Of Kin and Courtships [Bagginshield] together. I loved plotting together and trading off scenes, it was fun to have immediate feedback and support. And they're a great writer, too!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

All-time? Man, that's hard to say. I think I definitely cycle through them and I love many. Currently it's Bagginshield, but there may be a different answer this time next year!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Hmm. Most WIPs that I want to finish I do eventually finish, even if it takes me literal years to do so. I think the one that's bugging me the most currently is All I Want For Candlenights [Taakitz], which only needs its final chapter finished. I never got a gift in that exchange event which kind of unmotivated me, plus I've just not been deep into the Balance fandom lately.

What are your writing strengths?

Hard to say, really... And that's not fishing for compliments, I just mean it's hard for me to analyze what I like about my writing when I spend most of my editing time looking for my weaknesses instead. If I have to choose, maybe characterization? I get a lot of compliments on it (thank you readers!) and I do put a lot of thought and effort into getting into the characters' heads and their resulting dialogue/inner narration/etc. And for Tolkien works specifically, I'm very good at piecing together TDS Neo-Khuzdul translations, and find a lot of joy in making them, too!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh so many things... though I think I'm always improving! Pacing is a huge issue for me. Also scenery and action descriptions. Also TITLES are the bane of my existence most of the time. In a more meta sense, I always struggle to get out of my editing mode and just put something (anything) down on the page so I can actually finish my WIPs.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a huge fan of using other languages in fic and fiction as a whole, as that's actually what my undergrad thesis was about! Though in a fic I do really need a translation attached somehow for it to be enjoyable. I tend to get a little irritated if there's no translation provided anywhere, even if it's "unimportant" tidbits, because I want to know things, dammit!! /hj

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Oooo interesting question. I'd love to write a Leverage fic someday, but I really love those characters so much because canon already treats them so well! They're such well-developed characters that I find myself a little hesitant to dive in and potentially get it "wrong" (a silly worry I'd tell any other writer to ignore, ofc, but it's my worry unfortunately).

What's your favorite fic you've written?

That's like choosing a favorite child, oh no! ... I've just spent a few minutes scrolling up and down my AO3 stats list, but I really can't choose a favorite. They're almost all special to me for one reason or another, even ones I'm not very happy with in quality! I can say with confidence my current baby is the untitled Bagginshield mega fic, but idk that it will be my favorite even when it's done/published.

Thanks again for the tag, this was so fun! I'd love to see answers from @mrmrbaggins/@xkingevelynx, @thylocalbard, or @thatfancygirlinblack/@thatfancygirlinwhite, but absolutely no pressure to any of you :)

And if anyone else seeing this wants to do it, feel free to claim I tagged you! I won't snitch about it.

[sunriserose1023]

Ignite Your Bones

PAIRING: Bucky x Avenger!Reader WORD COUNT: 10k SQUARE FILLED: Bleeding Through the Bandages WARNINGS: Canon-level violence, injuries, explicit mentions of blood and bleeding, medical terminology, medical situations, angst AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've been working on this one for quite some time. It's a fill for my @badthingshappenbingo card, along with a little enemies to lovers vibe. Title taken from "Fix You," by Coldplay, which definitely fits the last section of this story.

You slammed the door as you walked into the compound, narrowing your eyes at the questioning looks from the people on the couch in the common room. 

“The next time you send me on a mission with him, expect him back in pieces, Captain.”

Steve opened his mouth, closing it again when you stomped out of the room. Two seconds after your boots stopped clicking on the kitchen floor, the door slammed again as Bucky made his way into the common room. 

“Never in my life have I dealt with anyone so reckless, so … stupid, and I grew up with you, Steve!” “‘Stupid?!’”

Bucky muttered “Goddamn it” under his breath as you stomped back into the room, a bag of Doritos in one hand, orange dust-covered finger poking him in the chest. 

“You think I’m stupid?” “Running into a building of heavily armed combatants—“ “Ooh, breaking out the big words, Sarge.” “Get that finger out of my chest before I break it off.”

You dragged your dusty fingers through the stubble on his cheek, smiling wickedly at the disgust on his face as he lifted a hand to wipe off Dorito dust. 

“You’re disgusting.” “Kiss my ass, Barnes.”

You turned and walked away before he could say another word, and Bucky glared in your direction before he turned back to the couch. 

“Next time you want to send me on a mission with her, don’t.”

Bucky walked down the hallway, muttering under his breath as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. Back on the couch, Steve studied the floor and beside him, Natasha rearranged herself, toes crawling under his thigh until he sighed and shifted, picking up her ankles and setting her feet on his lap. He started massaging her heels, finally looking over, making eye contact with her, seeing the joy in her eyes. He shrugged as he spoke. 

“So maybe I did that on purpose.” “You know they hate each other.” “‘Hate’ is a strong word.” “Hiding an even stronger emotion?”

Steve smiled, popping her toes. 

“Guess we’ll just see, huh?”

“Of all the rude, idiotic, downright miserable human beings … I mean … he’s such an asshole! Right?”

You turned around, the pure white cat sitting on the floor behind you. She tilted her head, tail swishing back and forth across the tile floor. She gave a questioning meow and you nodded. 

“Yeah, Bucky Barnes. I never thought I’d say this, but he’s the bane of my existence. I can’t even breathe right around him. Can you believe that, Alpine?”

She meowed again and you nodded back. 

“Trust me, you’d hate him, too. But I’d never subject my best girl to the likes of him. He’s awful, Alp. Just awful.”

She stood up, stretching her paws, arching her back. She walked over to you, weaving her way in and out of your legs, her tail looping around your calf. You bent to scratch your nails on her head, and she bumped her head against your hand. 

“Don’t worry, Alpine. We’re better off without Bucky Barnes in our lives. I promise.”

Bucky aimed his gun and fired, turning slightly towards his right before firing again. He straightened once his targets had fallen to the ground, seeing Natasha and Clint on the roof of the building, hearing the steady idling of the quinjet. He heard a distinct sound in his earpiece, watching Natasha turn towards it and he blew out a breath, running towards the east. He shook his head as he saw his target recoil from the punch he had thrown, cursing under his breath as he raised his gun and fired again, the target crumpling to the ground. Bucky tucked his gun away as he slowed to a walk, shaking his head as he loomed over you. From your place on your back on the ground, you slowly met his eyes, squinting your eyes as the sun glared behind him. Bucky sighed, offering a hand. 

“You know … sometimes I think you like getting punched.” “Oh, shut up.”

You laid a hand in his as he helped you to your feet. You groaned, lifting a hand to your forehead as Bucky held your shoulders.  

“You okay? Seeing double?” “God forbid. If I had to deal with two of you…”

You shook your head, going still and groaning again. 

“Take it easy.”

You moved to lean against him, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, laying his metal hand over your left ear. 

“Talk to me. What year is it?” “It’s, uh… oh god.”

You pushed him away and Bucky stepped back just in time as you threw up at his feet. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head, closing one eye as he looked up to Nat and Clint. He turned back just in time to catch you as you fainted, shaking his head and lifting you into his arms. 

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

You laid on your couch with Alpine on the arm at your feet, watching as she licked her paw. 

“You know we have a room you could use specifically for bathing.”

She didn’t dignify you with a response, and you sighed as you gingerly rolled your head towards the television. Netflix was playing softly, the documentary you’d tried to watch long since lost your attention. You sighed and turned the TV off, tossing the remote to your coffee table and gently turning your head. You closed your eyes, pulling the blanket up to your chin, exhaling as the throb in your head made itself known again. You gave a quiet moan, smiling when Alpine crept over and curled up on your stomach. You took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

“Miss Y/N, Sergeant Barnes is requesting entry.”

You gave a quiet moan at the soft voice sounding through the speakers of your apartment. 

“Let him in, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

He was just going to have to fend for himself, because your head was hurting too badly for you to do anything except nap. You heard the door unlock and then open, heard it softly click shut. You grunted when Alpine used your belly to launch herself to the back of the couch, tail swishing as her blue eyes studied the intruder. 

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

His voice was soft, and you answered in turn, not opening your eyes. 

“Her name is Alpine. She’s very self-sufficient and she adores Happy. He takes care of her for me when we go on missions.” “Huh.”

You heard Bucky’s careful footsteps as he walked to the couch, giving a sigh when his shadow fell over your face and hid the light. You cracked open one eye when you heard a distinct purr, finding Alpine preening under his gentle touch, moving her head to keep in contact with his hand. 

“I think she likes me.” “She has questionable tastes.”

Bucky chuckled as he stepped back, Alpine meowing in protest. You moved your eye to follow Bucky and he nodded to you. 

“Sit up.” “No.”

He blew out a breath. 

“I’m here to help you.” “My head throbs when I move.” “I know. Bruce sent a pill with me to help that.” “I don’t want—“ “I know. It’s just going to knock you out. Your concussion isn’t that bad. Just painful. Come on.”

You moaned and groaned as Bucky helped you into a sitting position, and he managed to roll his eyes only a few times. You gripped his flesh arm as waves of nausea rolled over you, the throb in your head seeming to echo with every heartbeat. 

“Just breathe.”

You whimpered, leaning into him, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his head on yours, shushing you softly, the stubble on his chin tickling your forehead. 

“You okay?” “I think so.” “Let me get you some water.”

You nodded, eyes closed as he walked into the kitchen, filling a glass and walking it back. He put the glass in your hand, setting the pill in your other hand. You opened your eyes, wincing as you did. 

“What is it?” “It’ll help.” “Bucky.” “I’m not a doctor, but a doctor gave it to me. We trust them, remember?”

You snorted. 

“Them I trust. You, not so much.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. 

“Just take the damn pill.” “What if I’m allergic to it?” “That’s why I’m here, and I’m staying until we see how it affects you.”

You gave a shake of your head, moaning softly. 

“Nat busy?” “Yes, and Wanda was, too. Sorry, kid. You’re stuck with me.” “I’m not a kid.” “Then take the damn pill.”

You sighed, putting the pill in your mouth and quickly drinking. You wrinkled your nose at the bitter taste, finishing the water. 

“Atta girl.” “Don’t patronize me, Barnes. Let me sleep.” “That’s the plan, cupcake. Lay down.” “Do not call me ‘cupcake.’” “Just lay your ass down.”

You did, rolling onto your side and closing your eyes, doing your best to ignore the throbbing in your head. You felt the blanket cover you, but you couldn’t open your eyes again. You felt Bucky’s gentle touch to your forehead, heard his soft murmur to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn off the lights, and your headache started to ease as you drifted to sleep. 

Bucky stood over you, shaking his head as your breathing evened out, your eyebrows relaxed, and the pain that had been evident on your face disappeared. Bucky watched you sleep for a moment, turning and going into the kitchen to put the soup Wanda had sent with him into your fridge. He turned and stopped, staring at the cat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her tail swished back and forth over the tiles, blue eyes locked onto him. 

“I come in peace. Even though your mom would probably disagree.”

Alpine chirped back at him and Bucky’s eyebrows raised. 

“So you’ve heard of me.”

Alpine turned her head and Bucky chuckled. 

“I’m sure she’s bitched about me to you, but I’m not that bad, I promise.”

He knelt down and Alpine walked to him, sniffing the hand he held out before bumping it with her head. Bucky smiled, petting the cat. 

“See? You can tell I’m a good guy. Well, I mean … might not go that far. But I’m okay.”

He moved to sit on the floor, sighing as Alpine crawled into his lap. 

“Your mom just brings out the worst in me. I don’t know why. I mean … you know how she can be, right?”

Alpine chirped and Bucky nodded. 

“Exactly. You get it.”

Alpine leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky moved his hand to scratch under her chin. 

“She’s really not so bad. It’s just easy to get her riled up. And now we’ve just always acted like this, so why change, you know? But she …”

Bucky glanced towards the living room, where you were softly snoring on the couch. He sighed, shaking his head. 

“She’s got to stop being so stupid in the field.”

Alpine gave a quiet hiss and Bucky looked at her with wide eyes. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it, but she doesn’t think. She just goes balls to the wall and one of these days she’s going to get killed. I swear to God, she's just like Steve. I’m like a magnet to little bleeding heart do-gooders with no sense of self-preservation.”

Bucky lifted a hand to rub over his face as he sighed. He shook his head, gently ushering the cat off his lap, smiling at her offended glare. 

“Come on. I’ve got to stay at least another hour to make sure she’s alright.”

He walked back into the living room, finding you sound asleep and breathing fine. He grabbed a book from your bookshelf and sat in a chair, smiling when Alpine jumped into his lap and curled up, purring when his metal hand began gently petting her. 

“I swear to God, if you don’t get your hand off my back, I will break it off and shove it up your—“ “Easy, cupcake. We’re supposed to be deeply in love, remember?”

You smiled as you and Bucky passed a couple in the hallway. You gave the woman a nod, laying your hand against Bucky’s shoulder. When the two of you rounded the corner and it was apparent you were alone, you dug your nails into his neck, pinching right at the pressure point. Bucky’s knees buckled and he stumbled as he cried out. 

“Son of a bitch!”

Bucky jumped away from you, blue eyes flashing as he lifted a hand to his neck. You looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, blinking once. 

“What’s wrong, dear?” “You’re an insufferable witch.” “Ooh, watch it, cupcake. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”

Bucky stepped closer to you, the hand you expected was going for your throat gentling as voices could be heard just before people rounded the corner. Bucky stepped even closer, his nose brushing against yours as his hand came to rest on your shoulder, his words muttered under his breath. 

“I loathe you.”

You gave a breathy giggle. 

“Right back at you, toots.”

The people walked away and Bucky stepped back from you, straightening his suit jacket. 

“Can we just get the intel and get the fuck out of here?” “It would be my pleasure. Just—“ “Stay out of my way.”

You blinked as Bucky walked away from you, narrowing your eyes as you followed him, heels clicking on the marble floor. 

“Priscilla! Oh, there you are darling. You look lovely!”

You took her hands as you accepted the kisses to your cheeks, smiling at the heiress before you. 

“Amelia, it’s so good to see you.”

Amelia didn’t even try to hide her blatant perusal of the man beside you and she gave him a demure smile. 

“Amelia Weatherford.” “Of Weatherford Jewels?” “Handsome and intelligent. My favorite combination.”

Bucky smiled as he took the hand she offered, pressing his lips to the back of it. You blinked at the sudden flame of fury you felt roll down your spine, shaking your head as he straightened. 

“Nicholas Rockefeller.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, as did yours when you turned to Bucky. He winked at you, offering his arm. 

“Miss Weatherford—“ “Amelia, please.”

Bucky nodded. 

“Amelia, will you excuse us? I promised Prissy a dance.”

Amelia grinned, nodding her head and stepping back, allowing the two of you space to walk to the dance floor. Bucky turned to face you, taking one of your hands, settling his other on your hip. You dug your nails into his hand, setting your other on his shoulder. You put a smile on your face, leaning in closer. 

“Rockefeller? Are you out of your goddamned mind?” “You pull out a Rockefeller, no one questions it.” “Maybe that worked in the olden days, Grandpa, but these days that shit can be verified in a few seconds.” “Would you relax and get your fucking nails out of my skin?”

You loosened your hold on him, pulling him closer and studying the room over his shoulder. 

“So how’d you cross paths with a jewelry heiress?”

You smiled, murmuring just as softly as Bucky had. 

“Undercover op in Ibiza, years ago. I’m actually surprised she remembered me.” “Well, it was Ibiza.” “Good point.”

Bucky moved his hand to the small of your back, eyebrow raising at your sudden intake of breath. Your eyes met his and you shook your head. 

“Don’t even. You just took me off-guard.” “Mm-hmm.” “I still can’t believe you went with Rockefeller. That’s not who we agreed on.” “Sometimes you’ve just got to go with whatever strikes you in the moment, cupcake.”

You scoffed. 

“Stop calling me cupcake. And don’t ever call me ‘Prissy’ again.” “It’s a common nickname for Priscillas.” “How many Priscillas do you know? You know what? Don’t answer that.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling you closer, smiling when you gasped quietly again.

“Quit it.”

He chuckled again, cheek brushing against yours when he saw a figure over your shoulder. 

“He’s here.” “Who?” “You know who.”

You slowly nodded, pressing your temple against his. 

“You want to take this one or me?” “I’ll do it. Let’s meet up in ten minutes, cupcake. Don’t be late.” “Fifty bucks says it takes longer.” “I’ll take that bet.”

You giggled, pulling back and staring into his blue eyes. You ran a finger down his nose, tapping his lips before turning away.

“Amelia!”

She rushed to you and you took her hands. 

“Do you know where the ladies’ room is?” “Of course!”

Amelia winked at Bucky.

“I’ll bring her right back, Mister Rockefeller.”

Bucky winked back at her, and Amelia giggled as she leaned closer to you, touching your forehead with her own. The two of you began walking away, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky making his way across the room. 

“Fifty bucks richer.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms in the cool night air. You glanced around, then went back inside, shivering at the sudden temperature change. You walked to the doorways and looked into the ballroom, quickly scanning the room and coming up empty. 

“Yeah, this was a great op to refuse comms. Stupid boy.”

You looked around the hall, hearing a metallic clattering from a room nearby. You shook your head, a sneer on your lips. 

“Five to ten odds he’s banging a waitress in the back alley.”

You looked from one end of the room to the other, lips twisting as you murmured to yourself. 

You shook your head, putting a smile on your face and making your way through the ballroom. In the hallway, you looked right and then left, before deciding to go left. You stepped to the side when a man in a suit rushed past you, nearly running into you, and you narrowed your eyes at him before you continued on your journey. You rounded a corner and let out a breath. 

“There you are.”

Bucky was standing with his back to you in the middle of the hallway. You shook your head, dress swishing on the ground, heels clicking on the floor as you rounded to stand in front of him. 

“‘Let’s meet up in ten minutes, cupcake. Don’t be late.’ And what happens? Cupcake shows up like always. Grumpy Old Man flakes, as usual.”

Bucky didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t shrug and turn away from you, like just the sight of you was enough to make him sick. He didn’t make any movement at all, which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You glanced at his feet, going still at the drops of blood by his shoes. You moved a hand to gently touch his shoulder. 

“Buck? Hey. What’s wrong?”

He blinked, slowly moving his eyes to yours. Your eyebrows furrowed at the look on his face, paler than usual, paler than you were comfortable with. Your ears perked up at the sharp exhalation he gave, and you shook your head as your eyes combed over him. 

“What happened? What?” “I think … I think he stabbed me.” “What?”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed the lapels of Bucky’s suit jacket, opening it and gasping when you saw the crimson spreading over the right side of his stark white shirt. 

“Oh, shit.”

You pressed a hand against his side and he gave a quiet moan. You looked over his shoulders, then behind yours and he shook his head. 

“He’s gone. I didn’t … I didn’t get—“ “It’s okay. Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”

Bucky nodded, and you stayed beside him, hand pressed against his side as the two of you took a step together. Bucky shook his head, reaching to grab hold of your arm. 

“Damn it, that hurts.” “Hang in there, Buck. Just one foot in front of the other.”

He nodded, looping an arm around your neck. He grunted with every slow step the two of you took, sweat breaking out over his forehead. You could feel your hand getting wetter as the bleeding continued, but Bucky refused to stop until the two of you were outside. You looked around, speaking as you scanned the parking lot.

“Let me get a cab.” “No, I—“ “You can’t walk all the way to the hotel.” “No, but I can’t bleed all over a cab either.”

Your mind was racing, and you turned your head to look at him. 

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” “No. Just …”

Bucky blew out a breath, blinking wide eyes before exhaling again. 

“Do you know how to hot-wire a car?”

You narrowed your eyes. 

“Do I look like a natural-born idiot? Of course I know how to hot-wire a car!”

Bucky grinned, sweat rolling down his pale face. You swallowed as you looked at his side and he nodded. You helped him take his jacket off, balling it up and pressing it against his side. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut, nodding as you moved your hands away and moved his to hold the jacket in place. You ran through the parking lot, ignoring the shaking in your hands as you found a nondescript dark-colored SUV, easily picking the lock on the driver’s side door and quickly hot-wiring the car. You drove to where you’d left Bucky, helping him into the passenger’s seat. You pulled open the glove compartment and almost cried in relief. 

“Look! First aid kit.”

You pulled it out and opened it up, finding the biggest bandage you could. Bucky gritted his teeth as he lifted his shirt and you pressed the bandage to his skin, doing your best to ignore the immediate spread of blood under it. You shook your head, pulling his shirt down, going to the driver’s side and climbing in, speeding away from the gala and towards the nondescript motel you were staying. 

“Are you—“ “I’m okay.”

You nodded, both hands tightly gripping the wheel. You kept your eyes on the road, shaking your head. 

“I thought you had the serum to heal you.” “I do, but it’s not always … instantaneous.”

You bit your bottom lip hard, making yourself smile. 

“You don’t have to try and impress me with big words, you know.”

Bucky barked a laugh, but it trailed into a groan. You white-knuckled the steering wheel, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the motel. 

“Thank god. We made it.”

You looked over to see Bucky with his eyes closed, big body slumped against the door. 

“No! No, Buck, stay awake. Bucky!”

He jumped when you threw an arm over, smacking his shoulder. He blinked wide eyes and you shook your head. 

“Don’t go to sleep.” “Okay.” “I mean it, Bucky. Stay with me.”

He nodded, groaning as he pressed a hand to his side. You parked the car and jumped out, running to help him out of the car, looping his arm around your neck, helping him lean onto you as the two of you hobbled into the room. He immediately collapsed onto the bed and you stood over him, ripping his shirt open and giving a shaking breath. 

“Jesus, Buck.”

You bit your tongue as you saw the blood-soaked bandage you’d placed on him. He nodded, wincing as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Fuck, it hurts.” “I know. Let me …”

Your words trailed off as you ran into the bathroom, gathering towels and wetting one. 

“My … suitcase.”

You poked your head out of the bathroom to see Bucky pointing and you unzipped the front pocket of his suitcase to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

“Thank God.”

Bucky nodded as you hurried back into the bathroom, gathering the towels and the alcohol and heading back to him. You walked into the room to see Bucky with his eyes closed, blood-covered hand hanging over the edge of the bed. 

“No! Bucky, no.”

He jumped at your sharp tone, eyes sluggishly opening. You shook your head as you dropped your supplies onto the bed before looming over him. 

“You stay with me. Do not close your eyes.”

Bucky smirked as you turned away. 

“First you … rip my shirt off, then you … boss me around. Keep … keep it—-“ “You can’t even talk, much less pretend like you could get it up. Don’t even.”

Bucky laughed, groaning when you pulled the bandage off his side. You tossed the blood-soaked bandage off the bed, pouring alcohol over his wound before pressing the wet towel against his side. You increased the pressure and his groan grew louder, metal hand moving to grip your arm. 

“I’m sorry.” “Don’t. You’re … fine. Don’t let me hurt you.”

You nodded, trying your best to clean the wound. Blood continued to bubble out and you shook your head. 

“God, there’s so much blood.” “Might’ve n … nicked the liver.” “No, there’s got to be … oh, fuck. Fuck, Bucky. He got you twice.”

Bucky rolled as best he could when you tapped his shoulder, and you gave a quiet whine when you saw the wound to his back, inches from the first wound. You shook your head as you moved the towel and pressed both of your hands to both of his wounds. 

“Goddamn it, Y/N.” “Don’t give me shit right now. I’m trying to save your life.” “I know. I’m just …”

He wheezed out a breath, and you quickly set a thick bandage on the wound on his back. Bucky rolled back to his back, wincing as you put another bandage on his front. 

“Just breathe.”

Bucky nodded, widening his eyes. You shook your head, leaning over him. 

“Come on, bionic man. You’ve got an arm made out of the strongest metal in the world and you’re going to let a little prison shank take you out?”

Bucky wheezed out a laugh, his metal arm moving to cup your elbow, thumb rubbing over your skin as his sleepy eyes met your own. 

“I’ll be … fine.” “Please don’t leave me, Buck. Stay with me.”

He nodded, eyes drifting closed. 

“No, damn it. No! Open your eyes and keep them open. Bucky, please. Oh, look what you’ve done. You got blood on your dog tags.”

He blinked his eyes open at that, looking down to see your blood-covered fingertips grab onto his dog tags before letting them sit in your bloody palm. He shook his head, your thumbprint perfectly outlined on the smooth side of the metal. 

“You did that.” “Prove it.”

Bucky groaned, head falling back on the pillow. 

“Fuck.” “I know. Just hold on.”

Your eyes widened when you looked down at the bandage, blood seeping out from under it. You swallowed and pulled the bandage off, cleaning the blood as best you could before finagling a piece of gauze and taping it to his skin. Blood quickly soaked through the gauze and bubbled around the tape. 

“You’ve got to … stitch it up.”

You looked up and met his eyes, shaking your head. 

“What? No. No, I …I can call for—“ “For what?”

You looked at his pale face, watching his eyes slowly blink open, the icy blue dull around his widening pupils. He gave a slow shake of his head. 

“They … won’t make it.” “Buck, I can’t.” “You … have to. You … you’re my only … hope.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head. You opened your eyes again and he gave you a small smile. He nodded and you blew out a breath. 

“Oh, god.” “You … can do this.”

You nodded, stepping back from the bed and to his suitcase, pulling out a sewing kit. You blew out a breath, shaking your head. 

“Goddamn it.”

You grabbed a needle and some thread, moving back to the bed and picking up the bottle of alcohol, pouring it over the needle. Your hands shook as you tried to thread the needle, stilling when you felt metal fingers gently brushing your elbow again. You looked at him and Bucky smiled. 

“You’ve got this.”

You shook your head, staring into his sleepy eyes. 

“I’ve never sewn anything before.” “Nothing … to it. Just … back and—back and forth.”

You nodded again, doing as he instructed, listening to his murmurs as he walked you through how to knot the thread. You blew out a breath and wiped the towel over his skin, cleaning away the blood. 

“Pinch the … skin together.”

You did as he said, doing your best to ignore his wince. He shook his head. 

“Don't … pay atten—attention to me. Just do it.” “Okay, Nike.”

He gave a breathy laugh, groaning as you took the opportunity and pushed the needle through his skin. Your eyes were wide, mouth open when you saw what you’d done to him, the stark black thread standing out against his skin. 

“Oh my god.” “Keep—keep going. In and—“ “Out. In and out.”

Bucky nodded, groaning again as you pulled and tugged, pushing the needle into his skin, pulling it out, closing the wound on his side. You tied another knot in the end of the thread, helping Bucky move the slightest bit onto his side. You couldn’t stop the whine from escaping your lips when you saw the blood-soaked bandage on his back, pulling it off and cleaning the wound as best you could. You licked your lips and cleared your mind, focusing only on the task at hand, going through the same motions as you stitched up the other, albeit smaller, wound. You gave a sigh of relief, laughing softly. 

“Okay. Okay, that’s it. They’re closed.”

You rolled Bucky back to his back, the breath catching in your throat when you saw his eyes closed. 

“No, no, no. Bucky? Buck, open your eyes.”

He didn’t do what you said this time. Your hand gently slapped his face, and you let the tears come when he gave a soft moan, trying to move away from you. You nodded, your hand resting against his cheek as you brought your knees up, resting your elbow on them as you put your forehead against your wrist and cried. 

After a moment, you sniffed and stood up, going into the bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror. Your gown was stained with Bucky’s blood, your hands were covered in it, it was caked under your nails. You even had blood on your forehead. You closed your eyes, opening them again to see your blood-soaked reflection staring back at you. 

“Carrie. I’m Carrie at the prom.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips and you lifted a hand with the intention of covering your mouth. The laughter died as you gasped instead, staring at your hand. You took in a shaky breath, glancing over your shoulder and watching Bucky’s chest rise and fall a few times. You walked to the shower and turned it on, not even bothering to check the temperature before you walked into the shower fully clothed. 

You sat on the side of the bed, eyes focused on Bucky’s chest as it rose and fell. You’d at least combed your hair when you got out of the shower, leaving it in wet ropes around your head. You’d pulled on a pair of sweatpants before rifling through Bucky’s bag and stealing one of his Henleys.

You’d felt so cold ever since you’d gotten out of the shower. 

You looked down at the phone in your hand, taking in a breath before letting it out slowly. You tapped the screen until you found a number, lifting the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” “Hey, it … it’s me.” “Hey, you. How’s it going?”

You looked to the bed, shaking your head as your bottom lip wobbled. 

“Not … not great.” “What’s wrong?” “Bucky got stabbed.” “Jesus. Is he okay? Where are you?” “We’re at the motel. Clint, I had to sew him up.”

You couldn’t fight back the sob, and you put your forehead in your hand as you heard Clint murmuring through the phone. 

“Y/N, it’s Steve. Is he alive?”

You nodded until you trusted your voice. 

“He’s unconscious, but he’s breathing. I had to sew up the wounds and I’ve never done that before. You need to come get us and get him to a doctor.” “I’m sure you did fine.” “There was so much blood.”

Steve didn’t say anything after your whisper, and his voice was shaky when he spoke again. 

“We’re on the way.” “We didn’t finish the mission.” “That doesn’t matter now.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as Clint came back on the line, telling you they’d be there in a few hours. You hung up the phone, moving to the other bed, lifting a shaky hand to brush through Bucky’s hair. 

“They’re coming, Buck. Steve’s coming and he’s going to help you. You’re going to be okay.”

Bucky muttered nonsense words, and you shushed him, hand coming to rest against his cheek. Bucky murmured again, leaning into your touch before settling down again. 

You sat on the other bed and watched as Steve ran in, hitting his knees beside the bed where Bucky was still sleeping. Clint pulled up a hologram of Helen Cho, who praised your stitches and instructed the boys to get Bucky to her cradle ASAP. They were loading him onto a stretcher when Wanda walked in, kneeling before you. 

“Hey, you. Let’s go home.”

You turned your head to meet her eyes, your own eyes narrowing. Even though you’d been watching and hearing everything that was happening around you, you felt far away, like you’d been watching television instead of real life. You swallowed, giving Wanda a nod when she murmured your name again. She held out a hand and you grabbed onto it, holding tighter than you realized. You blinked when you noticed Sam grabbing your suitcases. 

“The … the dress.” “What dress, honey?”

You blinked as you looked at Wanda again, like you weren’t entirely sure if she was there. 

“The dress for the gala. It’s … it’s in the bathroom.”

Wanda nodded to Sam. 

“We’ll take care of it. Come on, sweetie.”

You followed her lead, still gripping tightly to her hand as she led you to the quinjet. 

Two weeks later, Bucky walked into the kitchen, heading for the fruit bowl. 

“How are there never any bananas? I swear to god, I put them on the grocery list yesterday.”

Natasha’s eyebrows raised, but she didn’t say anything as she spread peanut butter over the piece of bread in her hand. Bucky blew out a breath, muttering to himself as he picked up an orange instead. 

“Nat, are you stealing all the bananas?” “Do I look like a banana thief?”

Bucky shrugged his metal shoulder as he peeled his orange. Natasha glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“We have knives for that, you know?”

Bucky grinned at her with a section of orange in his mouth and she rolled her eyes. She finished her sandwich, leaving the room without a goodbye. She made her way down the hall, knocking softly on a door, hearing F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement of who was at the door. At the click of a lock, Natasha walked into the apartment. 

“Hey, I brought you some lunch.” “Just a sec.”

Natasha walked into the kitchen, hearing you curse under your breath. She sighed, looking at the pile of banana peels at your elbow. 

“Y/N…” “Hey, Nat.”

You scrambled to hide whatever was in your hands from her and Natasha narrowed her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” “Nothing. Did you say something about lunch? I’m starving.” “It’s just a peanut butter sandwich.” “Ooh, my fave.”

You pushed your chair away from the table, turning your back to Natasha quickly so she wouldn’t see your hands. 

“What are you trying to hide from me?”

You faltered at that, pausing a moment before walking to the sink. 

“Nothing.” “Y/N—“ “Drop it. Please.”

Natasha sighed, setting the sandwich down and crossing her arms over her chest. She waited until you walked back to the table, staring you down until you sighed and sat in the chair. 

“What’s going on with you?”

You put your head in your hands in lieu of answering her. Natasha shook her head. 

“Come on. You’ve been avoiding the team ever since you got back from that mission with Bucky. Steve’s about ready to mandate therapy for you.” “Steve can’t do that.” “He’s the Captain. He can do what he wants.”

You snorted and Natasha sighed, sitting across from you. 

“Come on, kid. Talk to me.” “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Can I have my sandwich now?”

You let your hands fall by your sides. Natasha stared at you, but you stared right back, and she eventually sighed and nodded. You slid the plate closer to you and took a bite out of the sandwich. 

“So you’re the one that’s been stealing the bananas?” “I thought this was lunch, not an interrogation.” “The evidence is overwhelming.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the way you spoke with your mouth full, then motioned to the banana peels at your elbow. You swallowed the bite you’d taken, lifting your shoulders. 

“I’m really into smoothies?”

Natasha just cocked an eyebrow and you blew out a breath. 

“I made banana bread last week.” “I know. Clint kept making perverse comments about how good it was.”

You smiled at that, looking down at the sandwich. You gently pushed the plate away, your sandwich with one bite missing staring back at you. 

“Hey.” “I’m not doing anything illegal or unmentionable with the bananas.” “You know I don’t care about that.”

Natasha reached over and laid a hand on your wrist. 

“I’m worried about you.”

Her eyes softened when you lifted tear-filled ones to her. You shook your head and she tightened her hold on you. You gave a shaky exhale and shook your head again. 

“I’m sorry about the bananas. I’ll make my own grocery order or something.” “Honey, that’s not the point.”

You tugged your hand away from her, wiping your eyes. 

“I, uh … I’ve really got to clean out my bathroom. It’s horrible. Can’t even remember the last time I mopped it.” “Talk to me.” “I’m just busy, Nat. I'm fine.” “You’re not—“ “Can you lock the door on your way out?”

Natasha sighed as you walked away, closing a door down the hall. She closed her eyes, hanging her head as she exhaled again. She picked up the sandwich you didn’t eat, biting into it herself as she left your apartment, locking the door behind her.

“No.” “Come on, Wanda. It’s for the greater good.”

Wanda raised one eyebrow as Sam tried to hide his smile. Natasha was unperturbed, taking one of Wanda’s hands. 

“Something is going on with her. She hasn’t been to movie night or game night or even dinner in two weeks. Almost three! You know how she is.”

Sam tilted his head. 

“You know that last mission took a toll on her.” “I know it did, but she usually bounces back quicker than this.”

Wanda laid her other hand on top of Natasha’s. 

“You didn’t see what we saw when we picked them up, Nat. She just needs time to process this.” “It’s been two weeks. This is past ‘processing time.’ This is mentally fucked up time now.”

Wanda looked to Sam, who stared back at her, a silent conversation passing between them. Wanda sighed, turning back to Natasha.

“I don’t like this.” “Let the record state she doesn’t like this.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled. Wanda sighed again, standing up and brushing off the dress she was wearing before making her way down the hall. She stopped outside your room, putting her ear to the door, closing her eyes as they began to glow red. 

“And pull slowly … there. Perfect.”

Wanda turned her head slightly as she listened to your thoughts. 

You can’t even see it! That’s a surgeon’s precision there. “Excellent work, Agent. Do you want to try the chicken now?” 

Wanda blinked her eyes open when she heard the second voice. It sounded different, further away, and she thought the voice had to be coming through your phone or computer. 

“Ew, it’s slimy.” “You knew it would be. Remember how we talked about it?” “Right. It’s more like normal skin, and with an injury, slime is a possibility.”

Wanda heard a tinny laugh, and she closed her eyes again as your voice went silent, save for the one in your head. 

Take a breath. You need this practice. You have to do this right. Next time could be life and death.

Wanda’s brows furrowed as she laid a hand on the door. 

In and out. In and out. Don’t forget to breathe. In and out. “Very good. Go just a bit deeper … that’s it. Perfect.”

Wanda’s red eyes opened when the soft sound of your thoughts echoed in her mind. 

I need to figure out how to make this bloody. It’s slippery enough as it is, but the blood adds an extra obstacle. Remember how Bucky’s blood soaked the needle and thread? “Agent, clear your mind. Keep your focus on the task at hand. That last stitch slipped.” “Sorry.” “It’s still very good.”

Wanda turned the doorknob, silently making her way into your apartment, stopping at the entry to your kitchen. You were sitting at the table with your back to her, your laptop on the table, along with a small pile of bananas and a raw chicken breast. 

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, quickly turning in your chair. 

“Wanda? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?” “Agent, I think this will end our session today. Very good work.”

You turned back as the video call ended with a chime, and you blew out a breath as you hung your head. Wanda stepped further into the kitchen, eyes scanning the room. 

“What are you doing in here? Why do you have so many bananas?” “Wanda, you need to go.”

Wanda’s eyes started glowing as you tried to hide the contents on the table from her. 

Shit. God, she can’t know. Nobody can know. They won’t understand. 

“What won’t we understand?”

You whirled around, eyes full of hurt. 

“Are you in my head?”

Wanda blinked, her eyes cooling back to their normal color. You gave an almost silent laugh. 

“You were. You were listening. You promised you’d never do that.” “Everyone is worried about you. You won’t leave this apartment. Ever since your mission with Bucky, you’ve closed off.”

You couldn’t help but flinch when she mentioned Bucky and that disastrous mission. Wanda’s eyes softened as she took a step closer.

“This has something to do with that, doesn’t it?” “Can you just mind your own business?” “Not when you’re hurting this badly and won’t let any of us help. We know what you’re going through.”

You whirled to face her, eyes wide. 

“How?! How could any of you know what I’m feeling? You weren’t there. You didn’t have his blood all over your hands, all over your dress. You didn’t stand in the shower and watch his blood flow down the drain. You didn’t do everything you could to help him and it wasn’t enough.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as yours did.

“You didn’t watch him almost bleed out. You didn’t have to push a needle through his skin to try to hold him together.” “Oh, honey.”

You shook your head, stepping away from her. You went to the sink and turned the water on, pumping soap into your hands and rubbing them together. Wanda lifted a hand to her lips as she watched you, tears sliding down your face and dripping into the sink. When she noticed the steam from the water, she rushed over and turned the water off, turning the cool side on and gently moving your hands under the water. 

You gripped the edges of the sink as Wanda turned the water off. She took your hands in hers, drying them off gently. 

“You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

You lifted your head, tear-filled eyes meeting hers. She gave you a sad smile, pulling you into a hug. You put your face in her shoulder and let her hold you, not seeing her eyes start to glow red, but feeling your own eyes grow heavier and heavier until you couldn’t help but close them. Your knees slowly buckled and Wanda helped you, going with you until you were laid out and sleeping peacefully on the floor. 

Wanda sighed, going to your door and opening it, whistling softly. Sam and Natasha popped their heads around the corner as Wanda raised an eyebrow, then motioned for them to come. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she looked around the kitchen, widening when she saw the bananas and the chicken, the needle and thread. 

“Oh my god.” “Sam, can you…?”

He nodded, gently brushing past Natasha as he walked to you, kneeling and lifting your sleeping body into his arms. You curled against his chest and he closed his eyes before carrying you down the hall and into your bedroom. 

Natasha met Wanda’s eyes and Wanda crossed her arms over her stomach. 

“She had a doctor on the computer who was talking her through stitches.” “That’s why she kept stealing the bananas.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow and Natasha walked over, picking up a pristine yellow banana. 

“If you do it correctly…”

She unpeeled the banana and Wanda’s eyebrows raised at the neat black stitches on the peel. 

“You can’t even tell it was peeled.” “She’s out. What’s going on with the prep line in here?”

Natasha showed Sam the stitches in the banana peel and he closed his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Shit.”

Natasha and Wanda nodded. After a moment of silence, Wanda spoke. 

“Now comes the hard part. Do we tell Bucky?”

You woke up with a headache, feeling quite hungover even though you hadn’t drank a drop of alcohol. You sat up in the bed, putting your head in your hands. 

No matter how hard you’d tried, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and the last mission the two of you went on. You couldn’t get the sight of his pale face out of your head, the way the blood wouldn’t stop, soaking through the bandages you’d tried to put on him. You felt like Lady Macbeth because in your dreams, you couldn’t get his blood off of your hands, no matter how hard you scrubbed. 

You crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom, trying and failing to avoid your reflection in the mirror. There were dark circles under your eyes, and your complexion was dull. You hadn’t left your apartment in a few weeks, hadn’t even gone outside. You were too preoccupied with the bananas and the stitching. 

You sighed and pulled your unwashed hair into a bun on top of your head, leaving the bathroom and coming to a hard stop when you saw the man sitting on your couch. Bucky lifted his eyes to yours, metal hand still as Alpine sniffed all over it.

“Long time no see.”

You nodded. 

“I’ve been busy.” “You’re the one that’s been stealing all the bananas.”

You shook your head. 

“I mean, yeah at first, but I’ve done my own grocery order for a while.” “Why?”

You lifted a hand to scratch at your neck. 

“No reason.” “Babe, we’ve got to work on your tells.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, dropping your hand and looking down at the floor. 

“Tell me why you needed so many bananas, Y/N.” “I went on a banana diet.” “Stop going up on your toes. That's another tell.”

You went to your flat feet, eyes cast down. You heard Alpine’s annoyed mrow as Bucky stood up and when he took a step towards you, you took a step back. He took a step back and you lifted your eyes to his. He held up his hands, sitting back down on the couch. Alpine moved to sit in his metal palm and he smiled. He brought his eyes back to you, seeing you staring at the floor still. 

“Cupcake, look at me.”

You did as he asked, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. 

“Why did you steal all the bananas?” “Why are you so obsessed with bananas? Did they not have them back in the old days?” “Quit deflecting and answering my question with a question. Tell me the truth.” “It doesn’t matter.” “To me, it does.”

You looked away from him as tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“If you’re not going to tell me the truth, let me tell you what I think, alright? I think you stole the bananas to practice stitching them up. Because if you do it right, you can’t even tell the banana’s been peeled.”

You looked down at the floor, Alpine sitting up and jumping down from the couch beside Bucky to walk to you. She gave a curious meow when a tear fell from your eyes and landed on her nose. 

“You’ve been practicing stitching until you’re damn near perfect at it.” “I’m not perfect at it.” “Yet another lie.”

You lifted your eyes to his, shaking your head. 

“You don’t understand.” “Enlighten me.”

You didn’t notice your hands were shaking as you spoke, the tears also falling unnoticed. 

“You were dying. You were dying and I was trying to hold you together. I was holding the stupid bandages against the holes in your side and you were dying. I can still smell it, Bucky. The whole room smelled like copper and I couldn’t make it go away.”

You moved your shaking hands to press them against your stomach, and Bucky’s heart lurched when he realized you were pressing on your body the places where he was stabbed. He stood up and you backed away again, the tears coming harder. 

“I kept begging you to stay with me and you kept trying to fucking die. I had to hold your skin and literally stitch you back together with a needle and thread. I’ve never sewn anything in my life and the first thing I ever sewed was you.”

Your back hit the wall and Bucky stopped inches from you. You shook your head, unable to do anything but sob. Bucky took hold of one of your hands, ignoring Alpine’s warning meow and hiss, pressing your palm against his chest. You tried to pull your hand from his grasp, but he had an iron hold on it. 

“Breathe.”

You did, shaking your head as you sobbed. Bucky flattened your palm against the center of his chest and spoke again. 

“Feel that?”

You shook your head, and he squeezed your wrist for a split second, urging you again. 

“Do you feel that?”

You took in a ragged breath, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your palm. You met his icy blue eyes and he raised his eyebrows in question. You nodded, and he adjusted his grip so that both his hands were holding your wrist, holding your palm to the center of his chest. 

“You saved me. My heart is still beating because of you.” “There was so much blood.” “But you stopped it.”

You shook your head. 

“I didn’t do enough.” “Not enough? You saved my life, cupcake.”

You shook your head again. 

“I should have known what to do beforehand—“ “What, because you knew I’d get stabbed?”

Your eyes met his and he shook his head. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You did what needed to be done and I’m still here because of it. Because of you.”

Your knees buckled as your hand fell from his chest, but Bucky gathered you in his arms before you hit the floor. You clung to him, arms holding him tightly as you cried into his chest. He held you, flesh hand gently rubbing your back, shushing you softly, but letting you cry. 

He shifted and lifted you into his arms, and you put your face in his shoulder as he carried you down the hall. You felt yourself be lowered to your bed, but you stayed clinging to Bucky until he lay down with you. 

“I got you. Shh. I’m here.”

You kept holding onto him, staying close when he rolled onto his back. You kept your head on his shoulder and an arm around his stomach, one of his arms steady around you and holding you close. You slid your hand up to the middle of his chest, closing your eyes when you felt his strong heartbeat under your palm. 

Bucky woke with a start, eyes opening to find white fur filling his vision. Alpine tilted her head as Bucky met her blue eyes, and he glanced towards the door when he heard your voice. 

“She’s not the best about sleeping in. I tried to tell her to leave you alone, but… I think she has selective hearing.” “Wonder where she gets that from.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your towel to your wet hair. Bucky sat up in the bed after sliding Alpine off his chest, smiling at her irritated chirp. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shifting to where he could look at you. You moved the towel off your head to hold it in your hands, speaking more to it than to Bucky. 

“Thank you for staying with me last night.” “You needed a friend. I didn’t mind.”

You slowly nodded. 

“So we’re friends now?”

Bucky softly smiled as he looked down at his hands, clenching his metal one into a fist, then releasing it. 

“Do you think we are?”

You sighed. 

“I thought you hated me.” “I never hated you.” “You’ve got a weird way of showing that.”

Bucky nodded. 

“You want to know the truth?” “It’d be nice.”

Bucky smiled as he looked over at you. 

“You’re good. And smart, but you listen to your heart more than your head. You’re so much like Steve, and I knew if I didn’t rein you in somehow, you’d sacrifice yourself into the ocean just like he did.” “And that morphed into you hating me … how?” “I never hated you.”

Bucky blew out a breath. 

“It was just easier to fire up that brother/sister relationship with you. And then you gave as good as you got and it was easier to make you think I hated you than to really—“

Your breath caught in your throat when he cut himself off. He shook his head, standing up and heading for the bedroom door. 

“Really what?” “You want coffee?” “I want you to finish what you started.”

He grabbed onto the door frame, looking back over his shoulder at you. 

“You really don’t know where that sentence was going?”

You swallowed and shook your head, and he blew out another breath. 

“C’mon, cupcake. There’s no way you can’t know.”

You did. At least, you thought you did. All those times you caught him looking at you with that soft smile, the way he tried to cover it by rolling his eyes and looking away. The gentle touches when you were hurt, the way he always seemed to be the one to volunteer to go on missions with you. 

The way your heart pounded when you realized he was hurt. 

The fear in your chest you thought would consume you when you couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. 

The begging you did for him to just stay with me, don’t leave me.

“Cupcake?”

You met his eyes with tears welled up in yours. He stepped away from the door and walked to you, shaking his head. 

“What did I say? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shook your head, laying your hands on his chest. 

“You didn’t. I just … I haven’t cried this much in a long time.” “I think you’re sort of emotionally constipated and it’s all coming out now.”

You laughed as you shoved him away. He stumbled back, a blinding smile on his lips. You shook your head. 

“You’re the worst.” “You know you love it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the floor and Bucky gave a quiet sigh. He turned away and when he was at the door again, you spoke. 

“I didn’t realize. I mean … I kind of did. But you always acted like you hated me, so I pushed it down and tried to convince myself that I …”

He kept one hand on the door frame, turning his head towards you, keeping his eyes away from you. 

“That what?” “That it wasn’t attraction I felt towards you. Then I tried to convince myself that you were like a brother to me and that hurt more. So I just locked it down and like you said, gave as good as I got.”

Bucky fully turned to face you and you swallowed again. 

“Everything was fine until you got hurt. Faced with the prospect of losing you … I lost it. I tried so hard not to let it show, but I … Bucky, I was so scared. You were so pale and there was so much blood and no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop it.” “You did stop it.” “I thought I was too late. I just prayed that you would wake up and I went and showered with my dress on. Watched the blood go down the drain.”

You sucked in a breath when you saw him in front of you. You’d been staring at the floor, lost in your own mind. Bucky reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. 

“You can’t hold onto that anymore. It’s over. It’s done. No matter what happened in that hotel room, I’m here and I’m fine.” “I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I close my eyes, I see my hands covered in your blood. After I stitched you up, I went into the bathroom and I swear I looked like Carrie after the prom.”

His eyebrows furrowed and you shook your head, waving him off. 

“I can’t just let it go, Buck.” “Then give it to me.”

You looked up and met his eyes, the icy blue earnest as he stared into your eyes. 

“Let me carry it for you.”

You started to shake your head and he took hold of your hands. 

“If not me, then someone else. We’ll find you someone to talk to, who can help you through this.”

You held tightly to his hands and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. You sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly as you closed your eyes. Bucky lifted his head to press his lips against your forehead, and you stepped forward, putting your face in his chest. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around you and you turned your head to where his heartbeat was directly under your ear. You kept your eyes closed as a Bucky started to gently sway. 

“Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?” “Have you asked me to go on a date with you?” “I thought it was this unspoken thing.”

You shook your head, leaning back and staring up at him. 

“You’re old, and your mind must be going.” “I’ll show you—“

You shut him up by going on your toes and pressing your lips to his. Bucky’s shocked inhale sounded a second before his hands tugged you closer, and you threw your arms around his neck. When you broke apart, both of you silently panting for air, Bucky gave a quiet laugh. 

“Took you long enough.”

[pleucas]

good evening. it is me again, skk hater - no air quotes because i am completely genuine in my hatred. this will be a long one.

i shall first begin with a thanks. i do write pretty often, and my ego has been sufficiently stroked. i suppose even the most despicable people have taste - at least in matters besides ships.

you have asked for my reasoning behind my vehement hatred of skk, and i think it's time for me to provide.

i'm going to be completely truthful - it's all Akutagawa's fault. i love him and his stupid victorian child fashion and british accent and dumb haircut deeply. so, naturally dazai is the bane of my existence.

now, even though i hated dazai more each time Akutagawa appeared, i actually didn't mind SKK for some time. i didn't get it cause Chuuya rarely actually shows up in the manga, which i read straight through without detouring for any of the light novels, but i was fine with it. they're fruity in most all their interactions, i shall never deny that because it's clearer than glass and i'm not that delusional, but i didn't see much substance beyond that.

then i read the novels and slowly came to the conclusion that i actually hate dazai even when Akutagawa isn't in the picture. and when i say HATE i mean HATE. he is the pebble lodged in my shoe, the lego on my cousin's floor, the table leg i stub my toe on, and so forth.

Chuuya, on the other hand, i love. he's great. amazing. stormbringer? peak. so, OBVIOUSLY, he could do much better than dazai. soooo much better. i mean, look at him

every time dazai and Chuuya have their objectively gay moments with each other, i feel like im watching my friend crawl back to their toxic ex.

that's how i feel with most dazai ships, and this is because dazai is always a smug prick towards the person he's being shipped with, and because i love Akutagawa i am not amused by this in the slightest. feels like he's rubbing salt in the wound. i actually like dazai more as a character when he's on the back foot. a (nonromantic) example would be him in The Day I Picked Up Dazai (A Side). dazai and Oda's dynamic is probably the best one dazai has in my eyes - though i don't ship them in the slightest. additionally, i think i, if only for a moment, actually liked dazai when he got ""killed"" in that one chapter. because it was a loss for him. in that moment, he (well, at least we're led to believe) got what he had wished for so often during the series, though it was not on his own terms. therefore, it felt almost like poetic tragedy - i thought it would have been a fitting end for him, and if it truly had been, i might like him now. this, as you know, was not the case.

furthermore, dazai is a fruitcake with or without Chuuya. it's not specific towards him, so i don't think anything real can be drawn from the vaguely homoerotic behaviour. i mean, dazai ballroomed danced with Sigma five minutes after meeting him. man just likes men, i don't know what to say

in conclusion, i feel like their relationship is unbalanced. dazai is never really shown to be all too worked up by Chuuya, even when he seems to be on the losing end of their bickering, but Chuuya is constantly harassed. while it's admittably funny, i don't like it in a romantic sense, nor do i see it in anyway that's different from Kunikida or Sigma.

that's about everything i can say without going on an unorganized tangent. i could bring up more specific issues i have that stem from Stormbringer and the Fifteen novel, but i have actual things ive been putting off writing - there's a whole book being sidelined by SKK right now. this has been a good way of procrastinating, but it must come to an end eventually

as for titles, you can call me Rimu. like the tree,

so, with an abundance of hate, Rimu <3

(ps: you might noticed that dazai's name is not capitalized at all in this ask. this is because he does not deserve that level of respect.)

holy hell Rimu. Hello, formally I guess — I will follow in your footsteps and leave dazai's name uncapitalized, because that was very funny

i've been putting off responding to this for a while but please believe that i have been thinking about it and periodically re-reading it. it's one of the most entertaining asks i've received LOL

to actually respond without completely proving your point of skkers procuring essays (though i'm sure you realize the irony upon review of your own accolade), i'll keep it brief. you had me in the first half, ngl, cuz i'm pretty sure 89% of us [skkers] agree, on a generalized scale, that dazai is the worst and Chuuya deserves everything and more (and better). he's the type of character that i enjoy as pure fiction, bc i know that if i knew him in person i'd hate him. same goes for my opinions on irl dazai — so asagiri did a (rare) justice for his authors there ig

abt everything else tho (imbalance, not being as affected by chuuya, similarity to other ships, and lack of intrigue)... i had a lot of responses prepared but really all of it can be summed up here as this:

like ngl man. LOL. i do blame the anime and its horrendous adaptation of dazai's character and skk's interactions, but that's another can of worms... that i have... opinons... about.

thank you for sharing your thoughts Rimu, i enjoyed reading through it a lot. keep it going!

with a mutual abundance of hate, Cas <3 <3 <3

[khywren]

For your get to know your fic writer questions!! ❤️❤️❤️🫶🏼 (Again, sorry for so many!)

13, 14, 18, 32, 33, 54, 56, 58, 65, & 77!

don't apologize, my friend! i'm always more than happy to answer these! ❤️❤️❤️ (questions are from this post.) 13: what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

so the thing about this one… i don't actually know if i follow any "common" writing tips (or any at all, really); i just kinda do what feels natural to me and hope it all works out. i am absolutely not gonna tell anyone to do that because it's a recipe for chaos, but! i can give you tips that have become habits for me instead. so one thing that has helped me immensely when writing either a chapter or a one-shot is that i almost always start with the dialogue. it gives me a good structure for where everything is going and almost always serves as my outline. like, i have a general idea in mind for what i want to accomplish, but getting the dialogue down is kind of like coalescing some of those ideas into something tangible. so my entire WIP at that point will just be lines of dialogue in sequential order. then i write everything else around the dialogue. i know that's kind of a cracked way to do it and won't work for everyone, but i think the general takeaway is that you shouldn't be afraid to start a piece literally anywhere; you don't have to start with the opening sentence and end with the last sentence.

14: how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel? do you draw from personal experiences?

if i'm writing a scene that's similar to anything i've experienced in my personal life, i always draw from personal experiences as i feel like that makes the emotion more authentic. i do try to feel what the characters are feeling regardless of that; if i can get a sense for that, it makes finding the words to describe those emotions accurately. when i write those scenes i like to think about what each character is feeling, why they would be feeling like that, and what it is about their personality/backstory that would make them feel that way.

18: do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

titles are the bane of my existence. i hate them. i almost always title my fics after i'm done writing. many times i'll look to song lyrics because i find them helpful, but they can also convey the tone/general gist of the fic better than i can most of the time. i wish i was better at this, but alas. 😭

32: name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

ONLY three? 😭 i can and will gush about every single one of my moots all day long, so to make this easier on myself i'll pick three people based on my favorite thing(s) about their writing, kinda like separating them into genres or categories i guess? each of these people are incredible and amazing and i am very fortunate to have met them. go show them some love if you haven't read their work!

if you're looking for comedy, banter, and hijinks, look no further than @nerdallwritey. her series beauty and the bard is currently five parts long and has something for everyone! there's fluff, there's smut, and there's so much fun! her fics never fail to put a smile on my face and seeing a new fic in my inbox is like christmas morning to me. i adore the way she writes astarion, but everyone else always feels so genuine and perfectly in character as well. i've reread all her works several times and i cannot recommend them highly enough!

one of my favorite tavs belongs to @verbenaa; her longfic to eden is easily one of my favorites and one of the major sources of inspiration that got me to finish developing and writing for my own tav. if you're looking for incredible smut and a sassy, loveable tav, here you go! her prose are fantastic and the relationship she has between rin and astarion is such a treat to read. they play off one another so well! the last chapter really put me through the ringer in the best way and i cant' wait to see what else she has in store for us. she's also written some other one-shots and every single one of those i've read has been stunning!

one of my favorite all-rounder authors is @shewhowas39. her longfic juniper and starlight is a wonderful version of the game featuring her tav, June (who is an absolute delight and i love her very much). if you're looking for a wonderfully written durge fic you can really sink your teeth into, you've found it! there is always so much love and care and emotion in everything she writes, and it makes her work a true joy to read.

33: do you want to be published some day?

i think it would be fun! it's never something I've ever thought about actually doing, but i think having an actual book out there in the wild that i wrote would be really cool. who knows, maybe i'll have an idea for something some day.

54: what’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

hmm… this is tricky. for me, i really enjoy just getting an idea i'm excited about on the page and being able to share it with other people. i always feel accomplished when i finish a piece because it's very satisfying to create something from nothing; even if no one reads it, it's still exercising my creativity and engaging in a hobby i enjoy.

56: what’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

i'm not sure what parts of my writing are better than others, since i can only perceive it from my personal, limited perspective. however, as someone who came straight from academia and had never written fic until my first one-shot last august, trying to find my voice and seeing myself make genuine progress with that over the past year has been very rewarding! there are a few of my pieces that i really don't think hold up very well anymore, but knowing that i've improved since then is a good feeling. i always want to get better and hope i can keep doing that in the future!

58: what part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc.)

definitely the brainstorming. i love daydreaming and thinking about all the possible ideas i could have for chapters or one-shots. i love thinking about stupid little jokes i could add in, or emotional scenes that make me kick my feet like a teenage girl or do 50 psychic damage straight to my brain. plus, there's far less stress involved in that process, since i don't have to actually commit anything to paper at that point.

65: tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.

i'm looking forward to getting over my current writer's block and finishing my kinktober prompts still! i'm very happy with 7/8 of the ones i've published so far, and even if the other 4 i was working on don't currently meet my standards, i'm confident i can come back and fix them up once i relax a bit and stop putting so much pressure on myself. i was having a ton of fun putting them together and i'm glad i participated this year.

77: do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?

since you didn't specify a fic, i'll just write about something from my longfic, adrift~ i'm quite partial to the lake scene i wrote for chapter 6, when ysera finally gives in and opens herself up to astarion. on the one hand, it's a sweet moment of vulnerability for her, but also tragic in the sense that it's the moment she started to fall for astarion who is at this point very much still fully intent on using her for his own means. there's just a lot going on there for both of them and i enjoyed torturing myself while putting it al together.

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 3: 'a killing spree through eternity, the devil stabs you in the back'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter 3 Summary

A minor training accident lands Adam in hot water with Sera.

Author's note:

I have a confession to make - I lied. At the end of the last chapter, I teased we'd hear the first time we'd hear Adam call Lute 'Dangertits'. I grossly underestimated how long this chapter would be, so you'll have to wait until next time for Lute's nickname. It's worth it, I promise! To everybody who has read, liked, commented, reblogged - thank you so very much!!! I hope you're enjoying reading about these two as much as I am writing them <3

Slight content warning - this chapter is Adam-centric, so expect plenty of swearing and mention of sexual activity.

***

Sera’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Adam hated waiting outside the door of Sera’s office. It usually meant one thing, and one thing only: he was in trouble.

Leaning against the wall, he turned his head and pressed the side of his helmet to the cool surface that separated him from the two occupants inside the room. Holding his breath, he remained still, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation he had been excluded from. If only he could catch a word or two, he could give himself something to work with when he was inevitably summoned before Sera to plead his case.

Shit.

Exhaling in frustration, he located his phone in the pocket of his robes, unlocked it and opened his favourite dating app. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the sight of the first profile he came across. Ah, Layla. A gorgeous brunette Exorcist, her beauty would have rendered most angels speechless as they madly tapped on her photo, hoping for a chance to connect with her.

Not Adam, however. Well, not this time, anyway.

Fucked her - twice. Swipe.

Boring. Swipe.

Into pegging a little too often for my liking. Swipe.

Ugh. The same babes, same bodies, same personalities that he’d become so familiar with over the years. It almost felt like they were all beginning to morph into the same woman, into one collective being. It didn’t matter anymore what their name was or where they came from – there was no discernible difference between any of them.

Not that they were aware he felt like that, of course. After all, he was the First Man, the Original Dick. His title alone granted him an untouchable celebrity status of sorts in Heaven – women literally threw themselves at his feet daily. As a man with needs, this suited him just fine. After an introduction, the roadmap to his bed was simple, almost formulaic: he’d flatter them, then back it up with some light flirting – never too heavy, or else they’d get the wrong idea. He was after a good time, not a long time. After the usual small talk, he’d flippantly mention something about not wanting to go home lonely, and his new lady friend would be only too obliging to accompany him not only to his home, but to his bedroom too. His method was foolproof, to say the least.

And yet, if he was perfectly honest with himself, it was also a little…boring. Sure, the women he bedded were hot, their personalities were…fine, and the sex perfectly enjoyable, but they were all totally predictable. Lately, Adam found himself craving something new, something challenging and… dare he say it, chaotic.

Too bad Heaven was as far from chaotic as realms came.

He sighed and shoved the phone back into his robes. Oh well. Better luck next time, maybe.

An abrupt scraping sound suddenly caught his attention, a tell-tale sign that the conversation inside Sera’s office was finally coming to an end.

About fucking time.

The door to his right creaked open, and without looking he knew exactly who was about to walk in the hall where he stood. He could practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he felt the hall grow colder with her nearing presence.

Lute.

The bane of his existence. A permanent thorn in his side, if you will. He was sure she’d be the eventual death of him – and given her penchant for bloody theatrics, it would be a drawn-out, brutal, excruciating demise that would have him painfully suffering until he drew his very last breath.

Well, if angels could die, anyhow. Unluckily for him, they couldn’t, which meant he was stuck with the she-devil as his second-in-command for God-knows how long. For-fucking-ever, probably.

Play it cool, dude. Just ignore her. Don’t -

“Have fun running off and telling Sera about our little incident today, Lieutenant?” he found himself blurting out, against his better judgement. “Though, I’m not surprised – coming to me first like an adult isn’t really your style, is it?”

Lute didn’t bother acknowledging his question, opting instead to salute him with a stiff middle finger over her shoulder, her other hand supporting her lower back as she walked gingerly down the hall. Adam couldn’t help but notice the slightly unnatural way her right hip rose and fell with each step that she took. Satisfied at the sight of her vulnerability, he smirked to himself as he watched her limp out of sight.

Bye, bitch.

“Adam, can you come in here please?” Sera called, interrupting his joy at relishing in his lieutenant’s injury. Anticipating the lecture he was about to endure, he rolled his eyes and strolled into Sera’s office, shutting the door behind him.

“Heyyyyy, boss-lady,” he chirped, scooting into one of Sera’s sterile office chairs. Knowing he’d have to kiss some serious ass to come out of the conversation unscathed, he took his helmet off, shaking his thick, brown hair out of his eyes, before setting it down on the adjacent chair. He never took his mask off for anybody. Ever. In fact, only Sera knew what he looked like underneath it – and that’s only because she’d been around for as long as he had.

Without fail, the women he took home would beg and plead for him to remove it during more intimate moments, but he’d gently chuckle and deflect the conversation.

‘Babe, that’s what makes this so hot, am I right? The mystery of it all? Wondering what the First Man really looks like as he fucks you?’

The line worked, every time.

Still, perhaps showing some vulnerability might win him some brownie points with his boss. “How’s my favourite Seraphim?  Busy day?” He flashed her a rare, charming smile, his golden irises twinkling, charisma oozing from every inch of his body.

“Adam,” Sera ignored his greeting completely, her interlocked fingers supporting her chin as she glared at the man opposite her. “Can you tell me about what happened in your training session just now?”

Adam’s smile faltered, and he knew by her matter-of-fact tone and pointed look that his suspicions were confirmed: he was in Trouble with a capital T. Fucking Lute, running off to tell Sera about their minor mishap. This conversation was going to be a real uphill battle if he had any chance of coming out the other end unscathed.

“Mmm, not really, no.”

“Would you like to try answering me again?”

“Ser-aaaaaaa.” Adam groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Fuck it, he had no hope of escaping without some form of reprimand. May as well drop the act. “Why are you pulling my dick about this? It was just a little accident.”

“Your lieutenant doesn’t seem to think it was an accident.”

“Yeah, well, my lieutenant can go and get fuc-”

“Adam.”

He groaned and threw his head back, the nape of his neck resting atop the frame of the chair. “What do you want from me, Sera?” He squinted up into the fluorescent lamp directly above him, attempting to distract himself from the conversation at hand.

Ah, that’s bright as fuck.

“I want you to tell me what happened this afternoon.”

“Why? So you can lecture me on how I’ve supposedly fucked up – even though this was her fault - and then punish me by making me apologise to her? Nah, I’m good thanks, boss.” Blinking rapidly to rid himself of the dark spots that danced across his vision, he sat upwards again and crossed his arms, glaring at his superior.

Sera rubbed her temples, a tell-tale sign that a dull ache was beginning behind her eyes. Not an unusual thing to happen when she was in Adam’s presence.

“Adam, please. Lute can barely walk, she’s in that much pain.”

“I saw her walk out of here just fine, she’s putting it on. Come to think of it, she would be the kind to fake it.”

To his surprise, the word ‘fake’ stirred up a recent memory; one he thought he’d filed away. It was from when Lute had unveiled the new training plan to the Exorcists. More specifically, the sound Lute had made as she massaged her head after removing her helmet. A throaty ‘mmm’ totally unlike a noise he’d ever heard her make before as she’d closed her eyes, tilted her head back and arched her spine, clearly enjoying the satisfaction the feeling gave her.

‘That sound she’d made that day wasn’t fake though, was it?’, an unfamiliar voice in his mind questioned tauntingly, sending cool shivers down the back of his neck. ‘What if you could make her moan again like that? ’

What the fuck was that?!

Adam shook his head, pushing the unexpected image out of his mind. Whatever that was, it was fucking weird, and unwelcome and wrong and…and…

“I’m not going to ask you again. Please stop with the petty name calling and tell me what happened. Now.” Sera sat back in her chair, arms folded, waiting for him to fill in the gaps of the story Lute had told her moments earlier. Welcoming the rescue from his overactive imagination, Adam wearily eyed the faint outline of many ethereal eyes beginning to etch over Sera’s body. It wasn’t often that she lost her composure, but when she did her usually calm demeanour turned from ‘mildly annoying authoritative figure’ to ‘downright frightening, head-bitch-in-charge’.

“Alright, alright, fine. Jesus Sera, put your weird-ass eyes away, you know they scare the shit out of me.”

“I would have thought after thousands of years, you’d be used to them.” Sera motioned with her hands for Adam to begin before settling them back underneath her chin, her extra eyes fading back into her hair and clothes until there was no trace of them left. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply, glancing out the window, searching desperately for something else to focus on. He’d hoped for a distraction, but the quiet streets below failed to give him inspiration for a reprieve from his inevitable interrogation.

“You’re really gonna make me do this, aren’t you?” he scowled. Sera simply raised her eyebrows in response. “Fine, today was the first day the girls were allowed to start sparring with one another. No weapons or anything badass like that, just hand-to-hand combat. Like a shitty version of a catfight.”

“Why do you think it’s taken six weeks for that to happen?”

“Um,” Adam ruffled his hair again. “She didn’t think –”

“She has a name, Adam.”

“Fucking seriously, Sera?!” he exclaimed. “You know who I’m talking about!”

“I do, but if you’re going to move forward from this incident – and I’d think about this very carefully, Adam - you need to start to refer to Lute by name.”

“Ugh, fine.” Adam rolled his eyes. He usually found great entertainment in pushing the boundaries with other people’s patience, but Sera was one of the few people with the capacity to genuinely terrify him.

Plus being unmasked meant he was without his usual layer of defence.

Focus, Dickmaster.

“So for the past six weeks, Lute – happy now? - has been getting the girls to focus on improving their physical strength. Y’know, lifting weights, high intensity exercise, yada yada yada. Said she didn’t think they were ready to move forward until she saw they were fitter – mind you, I’ve always thought they were pretty fit myself, if you know what I mean.”

“Do you think they’ve improved?”

“Mmm…” Adam rubbed his chin, considering her question, shadowy stubble prickling his hand. “Look, they can run for longer periods of time, I guess? And she – Lute – isn’t dishing out as many burpees as punishment as she used to, so I s’pose they’ve also stopped fucking around as much during training. Anyway, this afternoon Lute got the girls to pair up and she forgot she needed a partner to demonstrate the manoeuvre on. ‘Coz there were uneven numbers, I was the sucker who ended up as her training dummy.

“So she starts telling the girls that if they find themselves alone and unarmed in Hell – which, can I just say, wouldn’t fucking happen under my watch - they need to know how to knock those demon cunts out – ”

“Her colourful language or yours?” Sera grimaced in disapproval at Adam’s word choice.

“Mine. Although I’m not sure if you’re aware, Sera, but your little pet project has the filthiest mouth –”

“Back to the point, Adam.”

‘She would be filthy, wouldn’t she? Bet she fucks nasty.’ That smug voice in the back of his mind whispered again tauntingly. Adam groaned.

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“U-uh, n-nothing. Anyways - you interrupted me, remember, boss.” Adam waved a hand dismissively, recovering quickly from his outburst. “Lute tells them they need to know how to render a demon unconscious by beating the shit outta them so they can call another Exorcist for backup or escape the situation. Then, she has the fucking nerve to grab me and say, ‘allow me to demonstrate’!” He folded his arms. “She shows them where on the body to strike – can’t remember all of them, but I do remember one.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he winced. “The groin.”

“The groin,” Sera echoed.

“There was no way in Hell I was letting her get her hands on this,” Much to Sera’s horror - but not surprise - Adam gestured towards his crotch in a downwards motion with both hands, spreading his legs apart for full effect. “Literally the goods that created all of humanity, and you think I’m going to let some tiny, psycho murder machine get her vicious hands on them? Not a fucking chance! Anyways, before she got the chance to manhandle me, I got to her first.” He crossed his arms again defiantly. “I tackled that bitch to the ground.”

“Adam…” Sera groaned, putting her face in her hands, her feathery, grey hair spilling around her face onto her pristine desk. “You do realise she wasn’t going to actually hit you, don’t you?”

“Sera, have you seen her in action? Like I know you’ve read all her boring reports and shit so you know her stats and whatever, but have you actually watched her tear a demon limb-from-limb? She’s like one of those animals that plays with their prey for fun before finally putting them out of their misery and killing them. She’s a bloodthirsty motherfucker. Tackling her - it was practically self-defence!”

“Self-defence is when you protect yourself after somebody attacks you first, Adam. Did she hit you at all before you decided to tackle her?”

“Well… no.” Adam admitted, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. “I just have her figured out, and knew she would have used me as her personal punching bag.”

“Adam, I’m going to cut to the chase and be honest with you here.” An amber glow from the late afternoon sun now trickled into the room, and as Sera stood, drawing herself up to her full height, Adam couldn’t help but notice the reflection of the light flicker in her eyes. Creepy. “You need to figure out a way to work peacefully alongside your lieutenant. Fast.”

He eyed her wearily. “Why?”

What’s going on?

Sera narrowed her brows “I feel that over the years I’ve made it quite clear that I feel deeply conflicted about the yearly exterminations. Yes, it helps reduce the overpopulation problem in Hell, but given the falling numbers in recent years I can only conclude that your focus has shifted. When you pitched the idea to me, I was under the impression that it was a genuine attempt at population control. Now, it seems that it has become an excuse for you and the Exorcists to take a field trip to Hell once a year and slaughter demons for a little bit of fun. Then, when you return to Heaven, you throw a great, big, raging party and all you do for the next year is show up to work, until the next Extermination, where the cycle repeats.”

“O-kay… great story and all, but what’s that got to do with me getting along with Lute?”

“Everything. Lute’s training regime has been designed to dramatically improve stats, get back to basics and ensure we get the job done properly. If her plan is successful, and we bring Hell’s population back under control, I won’t have such a moral conflict with your yearly excursion because we’d be succeeding in what you initially proposed to do. If not…” She stared out the window, golden sunlight now illuminating her entire face in an eerie glow. “Then this upcoming Extermination Day will be the last. Which circles back to my point, Adam.” She looked him dead in the eye, holding his gaze. “If I cancel Extermination Day, you no longer have a job. Something to keep you occupied on a day-to-day basis. And I know you don’t do well with boredom.”HeH

Adam’s cheeks puffed as he exhaled deeply. Breaking eye contact with Sera, he ran a hand through his hair again. She was fucking strong-arming him. Either work with the most infuriating angel known to existence – well, second to Lucifer, or lose his job, the one stable, constant thing he’d had in his life for eons. The very job that he, up until mere moments ago, had been under the impression he’d been doing perfectly competently.

Turns out, he was a big, fat fucking failure and the future of said job rested on the tiny shoulders of his least favourite being in Heaven.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Yeah, wow.” He muttered darkly, feeling his cheeks grow warmer with anger. “Cool. Way to make a guy feel valued after centuries – actually, no, millenniaof dedication, Sera.” The familiar sound of scraping metal filled the room as he signalled the end of the meeting. He reached down and grabbed his helmet, jamming it over his head and obscuring his face from view. Despite the electronic display, he felt a sense of relief that he now hid his glowering face from the view of his boss. “Does she know about this?”

“No. I’m not putting that pressure on her, she’s under enough stress as it is. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to her.” Her direct tone implied the matter wasn’t up for negotiation, either.

“Right. So you’re worried about stressing her out, but you’re happy to pull the rug out from under my feet. Got it.” He let out a hollow laugh. Fuck, he’d really slipped down the pecking order in a short matter of weeks. All because of that infuriating, antagonistic, mouthy little bitch.

“This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly, Adam,” Sera said gently, “In fac –”

“Forgive me,” he interrupted coldly, “For saying that I don’t really give a shit how you’ve made the decision. You’re not fucking forcing me out of a job, if it’s the last thing I do.” The yellow eyes of his mask paused to glare at her, wanting her to meet his eye. Needing her to understand that he wasn’t going to take this shit lying down. He was fucking Adam, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t that count for anything anymore?

She didn’t even have the decency to look him in the eye, instead choosing to gaze at a spot somewhere above his left shoulder, her features set in a blank poker face. He scoffed, shaking his head in disgust.

Pathetic.

“I’m out. See ya.” Turning his back, Adam strode quickly towards the office door, desperate to put as much distance between himself and his boss as possible before the shock of the situation wore off and the rage kicked in.

“Where are you going?” Sera called, worry evident in her voice. Adam paused as he pushed the door open, the handle clattering slightly as he tried to suppress the anger that was beginning to radiate through his body like the fire of a thousand suns.

“To find my fucking lieutenant and get her to play nice.”

***

Next time: we really do find out how Lute earned the nickname 'Dangertits'. She should also really remember the importance of locking her door...

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Tsunaida Koi no Kanaekata

Title: Tsunaida Koi no Kanaekata (繋いだ恋の叶え方)

Release Date: 2021/08/25

Shop: CD + Manga

Author/Artist: Yoshio Akira

Cast:

Shingaki Tarusuke x Eguchi Takuya

Nakajima Yoshiki

Oi Marie

Synopsis: The bane of my existence. Adaptation of the second installment of the same name.

Review Proper

When I was dying of an ear infection back in December, I had the most vivid dream of Morpheus from The Sandman sitting at the foot of my bed telling me that my life was one of his tools that he needed back. In exchange for my life, Morpheus promised me he would go back in time to stop me from making a mistake that I wished I hadn't done.

I chose working on this fucking thing.

Don't get me wrong, Tsunaida had the best plot out of the series and all of Yoshio Akira's works. I'd even go as far as saying it's one of the best releases of its time—it was nominated for Best Series in the 2021 chilchil awards for a reason (it was robbed, I tell you). It's just my life has gone downhill since I picked this up. HAHAHAHAHA Not to mention, older Chesk was bad and cringe. I'm sorry for arguing with you over this series, Kimmy. It wasn't worth it.

This series is still ongoing, only god knows why. I got so sick of it to the point that I started hating Yoshio Akira and forgetting all about the plot, so I didn't expect myself to cry during the climax HAHAHAHAHAHA FUCK WHY WAS THIS STILL SO GOOD???? I'M ANNOYED I still hate it tho

I forgot just how painful this was. I'm at this point in my life where if that would happen to me, I would just LEAVE.

Anyway, onto the topic of the BLCD...

I didn't think it was going to be possible, but Shingaki really changed his Hara-san tone!!! Thank god! This is it! This was exactly the tone I envisioned his Hara-san would be in! I'm not sure if it's 'cause everyone from the producers (except the director) and the sound team was changed, but Tsunaida and Kanawanu are worlds apart. I usually dislike inconsistencies in series with multiple installments, but I'll let this slide. Let's all just pretend that Kanawanu doesn't exist.😌

Egu also went a pitch higher in this. It's still far from what I wanted for Kaoru, but he was able to make the role his own. I'm not sure if it's because of the change in the mixing, but Egu finally sounds like he was recording with everyone here. I said in my review for Kanawanu that he wasn't syncing with his own brother, Kakeru, and it turns out that Egu actually was voicing Kakeru too lmao. How can you not sync with yourself, man? But that just means that the mixing for Kanawanu was that bad. I haven't listened to Tabete mo Oishikuarimasen yet, but I feel like Egu and Shingaki should've been nominated for Tsunaida. I mean, Shingaki is a queen as Yashiro and his nomination is deserved, but let's all put those older series to rest now. 😂

I also missed Nakajiki as Keiji-san!!! He promised to bring Hiro along next time, so if I'm not hearing Saitou Souma in Musunda, I will riot! No, I didn't check the cast list.

The BLCD is pretty accurate to the manga, save for that extra bathroom sex in Track 2. It's quite long, but there isn't any complex dialogue, so I suggest just closing your eyes and absorbing the bathroom bambo. 😌 I actually wished it was longer toward the ending chapter because I felt that it was rushed in the manga, but alas. I've read Renta's license, and it's accurate as well. In conclusion, get this if you like the series. 100% recommend!

[lodessa]

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

18.Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

58.What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

It varies quite a bit. I generally have a rough shape of the story and certain key bits like a particular scenes I want to write or maybe where the ending is going to go. But I don't always outline outside my head and when I do, I usually end up not ultimately following the outline. Like I will think a certain plot point or scene is going to go a certain way and then when I get into writing it I have a better idea or realize that the original one doesn't work or I need to add something else. I would say the exception to this tends to be when I am writing a more ensemble type fic where the chapters are from a bunch of different perspectives (Voyager High would be a good example) and that external structure helps keep me on track.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

The most effective thing is to share what I have so far with a friend I trust and have them convince me it is good or help me figure out why it is not working. Switching to a different idea or WIP is another strategy, and/or intentionally writing really short prompt ficlets. But truly I am terrible at this. When I get stuck I can be in that space for a LONG TIME.

18.Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

After. I always swear I am not going to do that and will plan ahead next time but I'm always back in the situation where I am ready to post to A)3 and I have no idea what to call the fic. I use the lazy, song lyric, method a lot of the time. Or I just try to pick a word or phrase that has the first vibe. Titles are the bane of my existence.

58.What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

Brainstorming for sure. Coming up with the ideas and imagining the story in my head is exciting and fun and easy and then actually turning it into words in a document is hard work for the most part. Outlining is fun, but not as fun as brainstorming and also can feel like a waste, since I never actually follow my plan. There are times when I get into a good writing groove and it is going smoothly and that feels so nice, but a lot of the time it can be a slog and my brain starts going fuzzy sometimes. I really hate editing and never do as thorough of a job as I feel like I should.

[hel-phoenyx]

22) Competing

There's people that can go all their life without a competition. Not even harmless challenges or rivalry. Just perfectly happy living with others.

I envy those people.

My life has always been a competition. Against other nobility, against our ancestors, against the current sovereign, against my fucking family, I am always competing, and I am losing.

I remember the first time I went to the castle. I was twenty-four, a two-year-old in my arms, and neither of us had ever seen the inside of the king's abode, even though we were, ourselves, nobility. It was both because the Laangfisk didn't want us here, and because my parents cast me aside. The moment my brother was born and I lost the competition.

Yet I went in, because the king invited me. And here he was, under the throne, over him looming a big painting of Odin II. The one who killed my grandfather.

I know mom never forgave him. It took me years to understand why. She saw. She tasted the blood. She watched as his head fall of and as the killer stripped us of our titles. He won the competition. An ages long competition between two branches of the royal family now so far in blood that we can't even call ourselves relatives.

I looked upon that portrait and remembered the one of the defeated are now covered with a curtain.

He was on the throne and next to him was my little brother, the bane of my existence. The one that won the competition by being born. He open his eyes and cried and the seastorm marked my loss, for I am powerless.

My defeat cast me aside as I wasn't even aware there was a game.

And yet, he lost. He lost, too, because he isn't on this throne. He should be. We should be. We should be kings and queens and fighters and heroes and not standing idly in the shame of the defeat.

He lost to the one that invited me in this castle and is now extending a hand to me, the eternal loser.

"Kriss, was it ? It is nice to meet you."

Is it a ploy ? Do you want to humiliate me like your mother humiliated mine ? Do you want to kill me like your grandfather killed mine ? Do you want another tamed puppy next to you like the one who won't even look me in the eyes ?

Why are you extending your hand ?

What are you waiting for ?

Say something.

S̶̹͐ã̵͇͙̮ÿ̷͍͉̞́̃ ̴̝̳̞̗̑̆̅͠s̶̖̥͊̋̈́͐ͅo̸̼͇͒̀͝m̵̡͖͊ę̶̟̤̱͑̓̽t̵̬̄̐̏̾h̶̜̀͛͒͘į̸̠̖̅̍͆͒n̶̢̢͖̈́̈́͑g̴̟̯̓̎͜ ̴̡̣̣̞̆!̷̫̒!̴̮̭͍̰͘!̸͔̇̈́͠

My name is Kriss Haralsdottir and once, a long time ago, far before I was born, it was Kriss af Mundir. But losers don't deserve names. losers don't deserve legacy. Losers can't even remember they, too, descended of Hrotheim IX, the hero of the Coast, your hero.

Losers can't be apparented to winners.

My son is in my arms. My precious, darling, fatherless son. His father lost to you, too, and now I've lost him.

I can't stand being in front of the winner.

"It is.... Nice to meet you too, your Majesty."

Loss tastes sour on my tongue.

I can't bear to look at him no longer. So I look at Tyrfing. Look at the defeated gleam in his eyes.

He's happy to be there and yet he knows, he knows he betrayed everyone's expectations. He knows mom raised a winner, he knows mom raised a hero, a weapon, and yet he lost, the hero has fallen and the weapon is rusty. I've hated him all my life for his gifts, for how everything seemed to look so easy for him, magic, fighting, charm, relationships, he had everything and yet he failed.

How can you still live with that weight ?

How do you endure the path of the loser when you're so used to winning ?

I restrain a chuckle, sour and bitter.

At least I was used to defeat.