#if he comes home to me in a reasonable amount of pulls

[xxkajtattooxx]

The night was getting later, but it seemed like time was going slow, as if the two were in their own little world. This was something Kaj could get used to. His intention had not been to try and talk Jade up, but it had come so easily. In this small amount of time, he'd learned a lot about her, and she had learned a little bit about him. He didn't want to hold anything back, but there was apart of him that he held back, the side of him that some might call him a bad person for. No matter how long it had been, he'd always see himself as the thief, the liar, and the player. The player part might still be true, but he wasn't a thief anymore, and he tried to lie as little as he could. They were only a couple hours into getting to know each other. At some point, he'd have to come clean; for now, he'd keep the peace. "Actually, it's hidden in the bathroom closet. Gotta keep my cover on the down-low. The secret lair? That's a work in progress." He wished in this moment he wasn't having to focus on the road, because it was rather difficult to focus. "Be careful what you wish for. I could be crazy," he said, giving her a wink. "With time, you'll see it all. Don't go rushing things." Kaj listened closely as she spoke, simply giving her the space to say whatever she needed. It was good to let out feelings, and for some reason almost easier to tell a stranger. He felt good that she was feeling comfortable enough with him to reveal her feelings. "I think any of those professions would be lucky to have you. It's all up to you now, though. They can have their opinions, but at the end of the day, it's you who decides. Not them, not your friends—you." Her passion was endearing, something he had in himself. For Kaj, passion was incredibly important in all aspects of life. Passion was the thing that drove him to provide himself with a better life. "A teacher is one of the most important people in a child's life, aside from their parents. You guide them, teach them, show them how to do things, and then you send 'em off to their next chapter." At least, that's what he'd heard. He didn't have any connections with his teachers—he barely showed up to school—but he knew it was a great cause. "Honestly he sleeps most of the time. I try to tire him out before I go to work. I know he'd be happy if I was with him all the time though. It's why I want to get him a pal. I just... Need a bigger place first." He sighed. "Boy eats like he pays for the food." When she took his hand, he was taken aback, but relaxed into her grasp. "Y'know what? Just go wild! I don't even care what color you do." He laughed, wiggling his fingers. "My eyes?" he asked, looking back into hers. He couldn't help but to allow his eyes to travel down a little, but he quickly caught himself and looked forward, hoping she didn't notice. Shaking his head at her, his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he breathed. "I can't say I've ever had a woman do... Any of that for me. Sounds like the exact thing I need after a long session. Do you know how much my body kills after like, an eight hour tattoo appointment?" Nodding, he hummed and clicked his tongue. "The most complete package."

"I've heard that. It sucks. For what you guys do, you should be paid the world." Kaj felt a little bit disappointed when she confirmed it was her car. He didn't want this to end yet. If he weren't such a 'gentleman' as she'd said, he would probably convince Jade to come home with him, but he respected her more than that. Pulling over, he parked the car on the side of the road, facing the front of his car to the front of her's. Pulling his car into park, he unbuckled his seat belt and looked to her. "You pop the hood and I'll get the cables, okay?"

When Jade first flagged Kaj down only an hour or so ago, she didn’t know what to expect. She figured he would tell her to fuck off and leave him alone, since he was out for a walk with Lazarus but that wasn’t the case. Kaj was a complete gentleman. He made sure they got back safely to his place to grab the jumper cables, they were laughing, teasing, and flirting the entire time with each other, and he wasn’t even trying to cross any boundaries or make a move, even though it was written across both of their faces, of should we kiss not. She even was learning to let more people in. To see all the sides of her and to slowly put down the guard she made around her heart. Not all at once but it was happening the more she was talking with Kaj and smiling and laughing. “Do you have your cape hidden in the trunk? Maybe a secret lair back at your apartment? You also forget a complete gentlemen too. I like this handsome charming side to you. I wanna see more sides to you.”she said with a hint of a tease in the beginning but being serious in the end. Jade wanted to see all sides of Kaj. She wasn’t offended at all by his comment. She agreed. “Please say it because I said the same thing to them. My mom wanted me to get my law degree or attend medical school. Have a worthy profession and make something out of life. When I told her I was going to get my degree in early childhood education and to be a preschool teacher, she about had a heart attack. I was going against her wishes.”she huffed and rolled her eyes not at him definitely not at Kaj. She took a breath before looking over at him. “I do. I love what I do. I’m making a difference in these kids lives. You actually hit it right on the nose. That’s the kind of teacher I am. I put my foot down when I need to, but other than that I’m the type that gives out hugs and high fives.”she chuckled with a smile on her face. “Puppy cuddles are the best. Oh I have no doubt. He’s a daddy’s boy. He doesn’t want you to leave. Dont we all have to make that money. Pay for their food and toys.”she smiled. Jade understood. Tater Tot was like her kid. Gotta make sure he’s fed and even though he already has a million and one toys, picks out one more to bring home. “Mmmmm let’s see.” She grabbed his hand to check out his nails and think about the colors. Their first touch. “Alright we already said Dark purple and black. So maybe a dark blue, or even white. Blood red could do. Or just a bright red. Something to bring out your eyes.”Jade said looking at his eyes. She gasped when he scoffed again crossing her arms in a cute manor but at the same time trying not to bust out laughing. “Getting dinner cooked for you, a massage after a long day, watching your favorite tv shows or movies, dessert too.”The blush was back on her cheeks again hearing the compliments. “That’s me. The complete package?”

The smiles, laughs, and looks they were sharing with each other was an instant reaction for Jade. She didn’t have to hide how these moments together were making her feel. She wanted more moments like these. Maybe not the whole breaking down and car not starting moment, but the glances and smiles and laughs and blushes and being together moments. Jade wanted more of those. She hoped Kaj did too. “I over exaggerated that. It’s not half. It’s all my paycheck. Teachers get mini pay. For what we do and what we have to take home sometimes, we get very little pay for it.”she said. She looked out and nodded as she saw her car was the only one here. “That would be me yep.”

[windy-apple]

TURNING UP THE HEAT

by Chris Hewitt

The first film came out of nowhere, Bob Odenkirk blindsiding us with an obscene amount of whoop-ass. Now, with Nobody 2, he’s up against a knife-throwing Sharon Stone. Let carnage commence!

BOB ODENKIRK CAN BE (AND HAS BEEN) many things. He can be an actor, a writer, a producer, a director. He can be funny, charming, flinty, heartbreaking, devious, craven, depending on which movie or TV show or play he’s in. Yep, the list of all the things that Bob Odenkirk can be is long and varied. But there’s been a recent addition that nobody saw coming.

“Bob Odenkirk,” says Timo Tjahjanto, his director on Nobody 2, “can be one scary motherfucker.”

A couple of days later, Empire puts this to Odenkirk, who is at that moment in New York, just a few hours away from going on stage as Shelley ‘The Machine’ Levene in a revival of Glengarry Glen Ross. Grey hair, friendly smile, twinkly eyes — Odenkirk is as far removed from scary motherfuckerdom as it seems possible to get. But when he hears Tjahjanto’s assessment, he smiles ruefully. “Well, it’s a shame to say that’s true,” he sighs. “You know, my dad didn’t give me much. He taught me how to swing a golf club, and he gave me this ability to go from zero to 80 in a second. I’m not thankful that that sometimes comes out in real life, because it’s usually unhelpful and not appropriate. But in a movie, it works real well.”

It certainly did back in 2021, when Odenkirk first displayed muscles (acting and actual) he didn’t know he had, in Nobody. With Better Call Saul, the show which continued his run as fast-talking scumbag lawyer Saul Goodman that began on Breaking Bad, coming to an end, Odenkirk had taken a shot at becoming an action hero on the big screen. He played Hutch Mansell, a family man stuck in something of a rut until a home-invasion sparks something hidden beneath the surface. Long story short: Hutch is not a nobody but a somebody, a very lethal somebody. In fact, he’s a former CIA assassin, with a particular set of skills, who suddenly finds himself in an all-out war with the Russian Mob. One that doesn’t end well for the Russian Mob, but gives Hutch back his identity, rekindles his relationship with his wife Becca (Connie Nielsen), and even makes his kids look at their deadbeat dad with new eyes.

It was a cracker, directed by Ilya Naishuller and written by Derek Kolstad, the original writer of John Wick, with which it shared certain DNA, and a production company in Chad Stahelski and David Leitch’s 87North. But Nobody stood apart from Wick and other geriaction movies for two reasons: its dark, often demented sense of humour, and Odenkirk, whose performance as Hutch was a revelation. Taking licks and dishing them out convincingly, most notably in a bus fight that has become iconic, suddenly he was the danger. He was the one who knocks. “I was a sketch-comedy guy,” Odenkirk says now. “I was doing [Nobody] almost just as a crazy challenge, just an older guy who sees a window to do something they’ve never done, and maybe could pull off.”

Nobody saw Nobody coming, but that’s partly because nobody saw Nobody. At least, not many people, not at first. When it came out in March 2021, it did so in the middle of the pandemic, at a time when huge blockbusters were struggling to put bums on seats, let alone an action movie starring the bloke from Better Call Saul. It made just $57 million worldwide, but you can’t keep a good nobody down. It Little Engine That Could-ed on home-entertainment formats, to the extent that Hutch is back. And this time he’s packing more than a punch. His swimming trunks, for one.

ODENKIRK WAS MORE THAN JUST THE star of Nobody. It sprang from him in many ways — he consciously wanted to try his hand at starring in an action movie, and was key in the film’s development. But it was also deeply personal to him — he and his family had once been the victims of not one but two home invasions. “Even though I think I did the right things in both instances,” Odenkirk told Empire back in 2020, “it doesn’t feel like enough, to be honest with you. It feels like I could have done more.” Those feelings of helplessness, inadequacy, and a desire to right some wrongs acted as the catalyst for Hutch and Nobody’s inciting incident.

Nobody 2, similarly, is pulled straight from Odenkirk’s memory banks. “My [birth] family went on two vacations in my life,” he says. “We went to the Wisconsin Dells, and we went to the Illinois State Fair one year, and that’s it.” The Wisconsin Dells is an area (you’ll never guess where it is) that’s home to numerous theme parks and entertainment centres. “We had a great time, although it was tense and difficult,” laughs Odenkirk. “The point is, those tense things, those mistakes, those dad things, they all got in the movie.”

So Nobody 2 sees the Mansells hit the holiday road and head to a theme park called Plummerville. Unfortunately, Plummerville just happens to be a hotbed of criminal behaviour and, before you can say ‘National Lampoon’s Ultra-Violent Vacation’, Hutch has rubbed up the wrong people the wrong way, and finds himself beating the shit out of some bad guys with, among other things, a giant rubber duck. “A number of things inspired the first film,” says Odenkirk. “One of them was Jackie Chan’s Police Story. It’s one of the reasons I thought ‘action’ at all. And the duck-boat fight is the closest I’ve come to a Jackie Chan fight.”

The leaning into Chan-esque gymnastics was embraced by Indonesian director Tjahjanto, who makes his Hollywood debut here. “Hutch is an ass-kicker, but he’s not invincible,” says Tjahjanto. “He definitely gets his ass kicked a lot. So I said, ‘What if our approach is more like a Jackie Chan approach?’ What makes Jackie Chan special is he’s this guy who doesn’t want to fight, and people keep coming at him. Violence can often be modified in a certain way to make it funny.”

With films like Headshot and The Night Comes For Us, Tjahjanto made his name on unrelenting, uncompromising action sequences, usually filmed (or presented) in single, unbroken shots. They’re exhausting to watch. Imagine performing in them. Especially if you’re recovering from something that nobody, least of all Odenkirk, saw coming.

IT WAS A HEART ATTACK. A BIG ONE.

Odenkirk was hanging out in-between takes on set of the final season of Better Call Saul when it went down, and so did he. “One of the tributaries to my widowmaker artery was completely shut down,” he says. “I fell unconscious. I turned grey. Worse things happened that I don’t want to say. I stopped breathing. If I’d been in my trailer, I would have been dead in short time, or had brain damage.”

Luckily, he was surrounded by people, and with the help of CPR and a defibrillator (and, later, the insertion of a couple of stents), he came back from the brink. That was 27 July 2021, about four months after Nobody was released, and Odenkirk has moved with the energy of a much younger man since, wrapping up Better Call Saul, moving onto short-lived TV show Lucky Hank, bagging a Tony nomination for Glengarry. And, of course, beating the crap out of assorted goons, henchmen and ne’er-do-wells in Nobody 2. All at the age of 62. “We never really spoke about his heart attack,” says Tjahjanto. “I like to push my actors to the limit. Sometimes it’s bordering on torture. But honestly, Bob could do three consecutive days of just doing the fight stuff. After the second day I’m ready to conk out, and Bob’s still going. That speaks more about his discipline.”

Odenkirk has a different take on things. For him, Nobody 2 wasn’t a risk. As far as he’s concerned, the only reason he’s alive to even do Nobody 2 is because of Nobody. “There’s almost no scarring on my heart after all that,” he says. “And the reason is, according to the nurse and my cardio doctor, is that these other veins that feed your heart were somewhat enlarged. They’re bigger than you normally see, and that was because of the two-and-a-half years of training for Nobody. I can work out. I do two a day when I’m training for the movie.”

In Indonesia, Tjahjanto has worked with the likes of Iko Uwais and Joe Taslim, actors who are also exceptional martial artists. The kind of people you can plonk the camera on, ask them to go for a few minutes, over and over again. Bordering on torture, indeed. If his plan with Odenkirk was to take things easy and cut him some slack, that quickly changed. A lot of the action scenes in Nobody 2 will showcase Odenkirk strutting his stuff in a single take, camera on his face in a way that it’s hard to cut around. “Bob is good at memorising all the choreography,” says Tjahjanto. “I’ll go, ‘Hey, Bob, I’ll give you two beats — punch, kick.’ And he’s like, ‘No, Timo, let’s go five beats, boom boom boom boom boom.’” Tjahjanto laughs. “I sometimes feel like if Bob wasn’t a comedian, he could be one of those MMA guys. He feels leathery. He feels like a tough guy, with the freakin’ veins popping out of his biceps.” And we’re back to Bob Odenkirk: Scary Motherfucker again. ‘Better Kill Saul’, anyone?

But this time around it’s not enough for Hutch to work his way through an army of anonymous henchmen, whether or not he’s smacking them with a fairground mallet or a giant duck. Nobody was memorable because it gave Odenkirk a nemesis of equal ability, in Aleksey Serebryakov’s unhinged Russian mobster. For the sequel, Odenkirk needed a Big Bad who could go toe-to-toe with him in every sense. “I want it to become a fantasy,” says Odenkirk. “I want it to become James Bond, and I want the villain to be as big and colourful and unreal as a James Bond villain.” Enter a Hollywood legend. Was it someone that nobody saw coming? You’d better believe it.

SHARON STONE CAN BE ONE SCARY motherfucker, too. This is a woman who’s duelled with Gene Hackman, kicked the crap out of Arnie (even if that little skirmish ultimately ended in divorce), outwitted Michael Douglas, and got her claws into Halle Berry’s Catwoman (although it’s probably best not to mention that one). But action roles had, over the last decade or so, passed her by. You’d assume that that was mostly due to good old-fashioned Hollywood ageism, that dread disease that renders female actors invisible once they hit 50. And there’s an element of that for sure. But Stone has also been recovering from her own life-or-death struggle. “Twenty years ago I had a stroke,” she tells Empire, on Zoom from her LA home. “And I started over, and I haven’t done an action movie since then.”

Until Nobody 2 came calling, with an offer to play Lendina, the ferocious figurehead of the crime organisation that has planted its roots in Plummerville. “I literally did not know, ‘Do I still have her in me?’” admits Stone. “‘Am I going to be able to come in here and make people believe that I can be this ass-kicking hyper-villain?’”

She said yes, of course, tempted by a chance to test her action mettle all over again, and lured in by a genuine love for Nobody, which she had seen six times with her kids during the pandemic. “When I was up for it, my kids were out of their minds,” she says. Working with Odenkirk was also a big draw. “He’s a good guy,” she says. “I love the work, Odenkirk loves his work. He’s like De Niro, working to work better.” Although she wasn’t prepared for one of the side effects of working with Odenkirk. “I keep getting all these Instagrams [comments],” she laughs. “‘He’s so sexy’, ‘He’s so hot’, ‘Oh my God, Bob is so hot’. I forward them to Bob and I’m like, ‘I have no opinion on this, Bob, but clearly everyone thinks you’re a hot tomato now, in your midlife resurgence. Now you’re a hot man.’ And I love getting to kick the ass of his hot manhood.” Blimey.

Odenkirk isn’t sure whose idea it was to cast Stone as the kicker-in-chief of his hot manhood. He thinks it might be his. Tjahjanto admits that he had Stone on his wishlist, but didn’t think she would say yes. “I thought we could never get Sharon Stone,” says the director. “We sent a script and a couple of days later I was sitting on her couch, telling her about this character. She was like, ‘Alright, Timo, I’m fucking in.’ It was surreal.” On set, Tjahjanto would regularly ask Stone about The Quick And The Dead, the 1995 Sam Raimi Western in which she starred.

Nobody 2 treats the wily, unpredictable Lendina (“She’s like a snake,” adds Tjahjanto. “Sometimes she plays it calm and sometimes she just goes batshit crazy!”) like a final boss, pulling strings behind the scenes, directing her private militia (and squadron of female bodyguards) against Hutch and his family (once again including Christopher Lloyd, as Hutch’s dad David, and RZA as his sword-wielding brother Harry). She and Hutch are kept apart for much of the movie. When they eventually butt heads, there will be fireworks. “She’s in great shape, and she can fight, and she can push you around,” says Odenkirk of Stone. “And she’s powerful. She never stops thinking. She might as well be a 22-year-old comedy writer, for all the thoughts and ideas going through her head.”

What will this showdown between Hutch and Lendina be like? Imagine Heat, but if instead of going for a cup of coffee, Pacino and De Niro started throwing knives at each other. “I’ve been in the action-movie business for a really long time,” says Stone. “I was getting really frustrated because the stunt team was having me throw a bunch of fucking rubber knives. If you’re going to throw knives, throw real knives.” Welcome back, Shazza. You’ve been missed.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s unlikely that Stone will be around for any potential ‘Nobody 3’. But Odenkirk enjoyed working with her so much that he has an idea up his sleeve, something that will keep this unlikely partnership on the road. “We’re trying to think of another movie we can do together,” he says. “I have an idea that I’ve been kicking around. A very low-key comedy.” Nobody saw that… well, you can guess the rest.

 NOBODY 2 IS IN CINEMAS FROM 15 AUGUST 

[magpiecelestial]

i can't wait for Tuesday :')

[ssahotchnerr]

okay I don’t know how to make this idea I have in my head make sense but here it goes: imagine reader spending time with the team and knowing that Aaron has kind of a stoic image when it comes to the team but then he’s a cinnamon roll at home and the reader tries not to embarrass him with the team and Aaron ends up thinking that the reader is mad or upset because she’s not being as touchy or flirty with him as she normally is but really she’s just trying not to ruin his image??? Did that make sense? I hope that made sense

let loose

it makes perfect sense cw; fem non bau!reader, established relationship, touch starved aaron <3, angst if you squint, fluff and some ending spice ❤️‍🔥 wc; 1k

This was the second time you'd met Aaron's team.

The first was a few weeks ago; you'd brought Aaron a case file he'd forgotten at home. Multiple pairs of eyes latched onto you as you stepped into the bullpen, looking a bit lost until Aaron departed his office to greet you.

When he’d introduced you, only the briefest of pleasantries had been exchanged. Tonight - a small party at David Rossi's - proper acquaintances were finally made.

Your initial shyness was to be expected; getting used to their dynamics, their quirks, fearing you were invading the 'family' they had created.

Aaron's done what he thought would make you more comfortable; staying in close proximity, offering subtle reassurances - a hand on your knee, silent check-ins - and involving you in conversation. He had no doubts the team would make every effort to be welcoming, but he was also well aware that they could come off as intimidating without meaning to be.

But as the night went on, your reservation was directed more at him.

You strayed away from his touch, meeting his eyes with uncertainty, clasping your own hands together instead of intertwining with his. Such detachment was in complete contrast to your typical behavior; normally, you were wrapped around him any chance you got.

Not to mention, you had been all over him back at home. Prolonging your departure by having him pressed against the door, kissing him senseless. You’d almost been late to the time Dave had stated dinner would begin. 

And now, Aaron was left wondering what he could've done wrong in such a short amount of time.

"Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" He asked when a private moment between the two of you finally presented itself, finding you in the kitchen. The others had filtered out to Dave’s patio.

"Yeah, your team is great." You flashed him a quick smile as he neared, busying yourself with the charcuterie board JJ had brought. "You never told me how fun they are."

"They have their moments," his hand found your back, pressing a kiss behind your ear. His actions caused you to tense, only proving his suspicions further. Something was wrong.

"Honey?"

"Hm?" You glanced towards the doorway before looking up at him, your cheeks flushed. You took a small side step away, creating some distance. Anxiety bubbled in his chest.

"Did I do something wrong? You've barely touched me all night. If I upset you somehow, I’m sorry."

"No, no you haven't done anything. I just..." You turned your head away again, timidly and quietly admitting, "didn't know if you wanted me to."

His eyebrows quirked in confusion, you continued.

"This is your team. I know you have an image you want to maintain, and I respect that, so I didn't want to do anything that could potentially embarrass you, with me being as touchy as I am. I panicked, I didn't want to cross a line without knowing."

Oh. His eyes softened in understanding, as yours displayed inner conflict, your heart and head being pulled in different directions.

"Well, I do want you to. Please do."

"Are you sure?"

"Within reason." He offered you a sly smile, not insinuating he wanted hot and heavy actions in front of his colleagues. "But I want you on my arm. Holding my hand. Being your affectionate and loving self. It's what I love about you, and it's meant to be shared."

In fact, it was the one thing he was looking forward to about tonight. He felt more possessive than usual, a state that might have concerned him if not for the pride that came with it. You were his, and he wanted everyone to know how lucky he was.

And selfishly, he wanted the others to know he was worthy of love, (given, he was still trying to believe the same). That there was more to him than Aaron Hotchner, the BAU Unit Chief. He was needed, and not in the professional way he was used to, where his value was measured in results and responsibilities. But rather, being a doting and deeply loving partner.

A smile slowly made its way onto your face, grabbing his hands and lacing your fingers with his before guiding them to your waist, wrapping both his arms around you yourself.

"This may sound pathetic, but within the two hours we've been here, I've missed you."

You laughed gently at his whining, clinging onto his arms. "It's not pathetic at all. If you think you were having a rough time... I had no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you."

"Good thing there's an easy solution for that. Don't restrain yourself."

"In that case," this time, you didn't glance towards the door, in fear of being caught by one of Aaron's team members. You grabbed his face, your lips meeting his in a kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, a breath of relief escaping him as well; needing this, needing you, the lack of contact throughout the night excruciating. His mouth moved on yours with seamless urgency, as though instinct guided every touch.

The kiss quickly grew heated and messy. Aaron's arms tightened around your waist, backing and picking you up onto the counter, stepping in between your legs. His hands pulled at your hips in desperation of getting you closer. Your breath heavily picked up, assisting him by pressing your chest into his.

Aaron couldn't help but smile against your lips - for a number of reasons. The all-consuming love he had for you, being with you - being close to you - with the team just steps away. Feeling much the same, a giddy giggle escaped you.

"You know..." you mumbled between kisses, your fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. "You look sexy tonight. Absolutely irresistible."

A breathless chuckle shook through his chest. "We should head out. They'll come looking for us," he teased back, his fingers digging into your hips - a silent cue that he had no intention of actually joining them.

You hummed softly in response, undoing his top button. You stopped there; as it was, you’d only undone the button to get a reaction out of Aaron. It worked, a heavy, trembling breath leaving him. "Let them."

[szatears]

comfort zone, modernau!smoke.

summary: just smoke spoiling his girl.

pairing: modernau!smoke x fem!black reader

warnings: some descriptions of reader, cunnilingus, also munch!smoke because we all deserve it.

notes: this sinners brainrot will not leave me alone and i love it !!! also we hit 100 followers after just a couple days... i love you all so bad 🫶🏾

It was around 6 in the evening when Smoke came home to you. He'd been away in Atlanta for two days, a business trip as usual. You knew what he did, the type of people he worked with and what that came with. You didn't really care because at the end of the day, the most important thing to you was your relationship with him.

Everyone knew him as Smoke, but to you he was just Elijah. As soon as he walked through the huge doors to your shared home, he stopped being Smoke and Elijah came out instead.

Whenever he was away, you'd usually occupy yourself with something just fine. Going out with your girls, catching up on your own work, visiting family and so on. Anything to help take missing him off of your mind.

Today, as you waited for Smoke to come back, you decided to get a manicure. A little touch up on your nails could never hurt. It didn't take too long either, a half hour drive there and back in just under two hours. God, did you love your nail tech.

You had them done blue, Smoke's favourite colour on you.

You lounged around the house waiting for him, your only other companion being the small rottweiler puppy that Smoke had gifted to you. He whined as you patted him, rolling over next to you.

"I know, baby, daddy's coming home soon." You frowned, scratching behind his floppy ears.

The sound of keys turning in the door had those floppy ears turning straight real quick. Before you could even turn your head to the door, your puppy was already there, scratching at the back of it whilst Smoke attempted to get through.

"Man, move───" he muttered, trying to get through with a bunch of shopping bags and a puppy nipping at his legs.

You smiled, a part of you exhaling a sigh of relief that he'd come back to you in one piece.

It was never easy to see Smoke leave, the thought of him never coming back to you was always looming over your head. But just like he always reassured you he would, he came back seemingly fine.

You walked towards them, Smoke's facial features gradually relaxing at the sight of you. "Hi," you spoke smoothly, your arms around his neck as you pulled his face towards yours, kissing his lips.

You took a moment to run your hands over his body, the black compression shirt that he wire doing wonders for him. It always drove you crazy.

"Hey, baby," he kissed you back, dropping the bags gently on the floor giving his hands space to grab at your ass. "You been good?"

"Mhm," you answered, letting your nails scratch gently at the back of his neck. That always did the trick. You looked down at the puppy by your feet, breaking away to pick him up. He was getting heavier as each day went by.

You held him up to Smoke's face. "Say hi to your son, Elijah."

"That ugly ass thing ain't my son," he kissed his teeth, waving you off as he started moving the bags into the living room.

Laughing, you carried your puppy to its playpen, giving you snd Smoke some peace of mind for now.

You came back to find him emptying his pocket contents on the coffee table: gun, wallet, keys, and stacks of money. Instead of putting the money on the table with the rest of his stuff, he walked over to you.

He pulled the strap of the tank top that you wore, using it to tuck the money into your bra.

"What's this for?" you smiled, looking up at him. He was always giving you money randomly, various amounts for various reasons.

"For looking pretty," he kissed your cheek. "That's for you too," he nodded his head towards all the shopping bags that he brought in.

Your eyes followed to the bags, feeling so much appreciation overwhelm you. Smoke's love languages were most definitely gift giving and acts of service; he would use any and every opportunity to spoil you, but the minute you bought anything for him, he'd be telling you off for spending your money on him.

"You didn't have to," you pouted, sitting on his lap as you kissed all over his face. "You spoil me too much, I don't even have space for it all."

"I don't spoil you enough," He mumbled, kissing you back. "Come on, do your lil' try on thing you always do for me." He tapped the back of your thigh.

You giggled, "You mean a haul?"

"Yeah, that."

And that you did. Smoke had gotten you bags, clothes, lingerie, new makeup products... things you already had but according to him, could never have enough of.

You tried on each item, except for the lingerie. You said you wanted to surprise him with it another day, and he wasn't complaining.

At the end of your haul, Smoke helped you put everything away, making a comment to himself about having to expand your walk in wardrobe.

Now you two lay on the bed, cuddled up as a random show was on the TV. You loved moments like these, when he was yours. Not the rough Smoke that everyone else knew him as, but as your soft and loving boyfriend.

"You good?" Smoke stopped rubbing his hand gently on your body when he noticed you let out a sigh.

"I'm more than good," you smiled dreamily, like you were drunk just off of his affection.

He took your word for it, lifting your body onto his. His hands wrapped around your lower back whilst your chin rested on his chest, looking right at him.

"You know I love you, right?" He said.

"Yeah. I love you too."

Smoke smiled, his large hands squeezing at your ass. "And I love this ass too."

"You can never stay serious, can you?" You laughed, reaching back to move his hands. Instead, he flipped the two of you so he was now on too, your hands pinned on either side of your head.

"You know damn well how serious I can be."

And that you did. There was only a handful of times when Smoke had gotten serious with you, times when he was more Smoke than Elijah with you. One of the things he loved most about you was that you brought out the side of him that didn't immediately resort to violence, the one that still had hope that he could be loved like he once thought.

He leaned down, kissing you gently, softly. You kissed him back, your hand pulling his head even closer, nails grazing over his low cut. He caught a flash of blue as he pulled back from the kiss, removing a hand from your side to look at your hand properly.

"Look at you repping me," he teased you, running his fingers over your nails.

"Had to let 'em know," you shrugged.

"Damn straight," he mumbled against your lips. He could never get enough of you, you were like a drug to him.

He kissed from your lips down your neck, to your collarbone, nipping and sucking as he went. He loved marking you, you don't know when it started but you knew sure as hell it wasn't gonna stop.

Smoke let his runs run all over you, until you tugged at his shirt, frowning. "Why you poutin', baby?" He tilted his head, knowing the answer but wanting to drag it out of you.

"Take it off," you said.

"Yes ma'am."

As he pulled his shirt off, you watched on, smiling at your man's toned body. You let your hands rake over his abs as he leaned back down to you. "Your turn," he tapped your side.

You sat up a bit, pulling down the straps of your tank top before taking it off, no bra underneath. Smoke wasted no time, latching onto your breasts before you could even lay back down.

You let out a loud moan, like you haven't felt his touch in ages. Whilst he worked on your breasts, sucking and biting, he let his hand slide inside the shorts you wore, grazing over your clothed pussy. He could feel how wet you were just from a few touches.

"Fat ma missed me, huh?" he joked. You kissed your teeth, groaning as he rubbed gently.

"Elijah... do something," you moaned.

"Aight, baby, lift up for me." he took your shorts off when you lifted your hips, along with your panties. He settled in between your legs, lying down so he was face to face with your seeping pussy. He looked at you, knowing he was absolutely about to devour you.

The first lick had you throwing your head back, your thighs immediately closing around Smoke's head. If he could've died right then, he would've died a very happy man.

As he licked up and down, sucking your clit, you writhed underneath him, struggling to stay still with how he was doing you.

He gripped your hips, forcing you to stay in one spot. "If you keep moving, I'ma stop." he mumbled with his lips still on you, sending vibrations through your body.

You nodded, knowing he was dead serious about that. One thing about sex with Smoke? The overstimulation was real.

He continued to lick bold stripes up and down your fold, kissing at deeply as he went. You could feel that coil deep in you about to snap, your whimpers and moans getting louder as Smoke used his fingers to rub your clit.

"Fuck, baby, I'm almost─── Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" you moaned as you came, but Smoke still didn't let up, lapping up all your juices as you rode out your high.

You panted, trying to push his head away, already feeling like you could tap out. But when he looked at you, his moustache and goatee coated in your cum, you knew this was only the start.

"You boutta tap out on me? Hm?" he asked.

You shook your head, guiding him back to your folds. You felt his smirk on you, his lips going back to doing what they did best.

You always did love when he came home to you.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Come Find Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back back back again! I have missed writing so much, I just don't have nearly the amount of time that I used to. But I'm in my last semester of school! So hopefully I'll be back on a consistent fanfic grind once I'm done :) PS: If you know what the title is referencing, you get a big hug from me.

Word Count: 13,439

Warnings: blood, talk of violence, reader injury

Bucky checked his texts every few minutes. Initially, he lied to himself about the reason behind it. He told himself he must’ve opened his conversation with you accidentally, or that he mistook an email notification for a text from you. Simple, innocent mistakes. 

Either way, he always ended up staring at your side of the conversation, hoping for a gray ellipsis to appear. 

But after a while, he could no longer deny the truth- and why would he want to? You were coming home. 

You hadn’t been gone long, and your mission was projected to be a cake walk. But he couldn’t help it; he missed you. He missed you when you went on missions, when you visited your parents out of state, when you slept in your room down the hall. Missing you was part of him now, woven into the fabric of his being. It matched the material of his soul perfectly, like he was always meant to feel this way.

He fired off a quick “let me know when you land” message and waited, hoping you’d write back soon. 

Usually, you texted him when you were headed back to the compound. It gave him a countdown to your return and something to look forward to. It also signaled to him that you were, in fact, coming home alive. Even if a bit banged up, you were well enough to shoot him a message. And that always eased his worries.

Today, however, was different. No text, no call.

It struck him as bizarre and sounded Bucky’s internal alarms. But he silenced them as best he could. He wasn’t going to let himself get worked up, not when you had a perfectly good reason for not messaging him.  

This was your first time leading a mission with a new recruit under your wing. Bucky knew you devoted your full attention to your trainee, giving him absolutely everything you had. You took this position- as well as your pupil’s safety and success- very seriously. He knew you were probably busy helping your recruit learn a swath of new things, and who was he to interrupt?

Bucky opened the log and saw your jet had been marked as ‘incoming’ only minutes ago. A sigh of relief left his chest and eased his muscles. Sure, he would’ve rather heard that information from you, but it didn’t matter. Your jet would be here soon; he had no reason to worry. 

The moment he saw that your jet was homeward bound, he lost the ability to think about anything else. He counted the minutes, the seconds. You had to be close, right? The log wouldn’t have said ‘Incoming’ if you were still hours away. 

To pass the time, he folded laundry, answered emails, reread a few chapters of The Hobbit- but he couldn’t focus. He thought of you, only you. And no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t hang around his room any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He needed to be there when the jet landed. He needed to meet you on the steps of the aircraft and wrap you in a bear hug. 

And there was no real harm in waiting near the hangar, was there? ‘If anything,’ he told himself, ‘It’s actually more convenient for her if I meet her there. That way, I can carry her bag- she’s probably tired.’ 

Anything to rationalize his desperate need to be near you.

He knew in his heart of hearts that you didn’t need him to carry your bag or help you off the jet. But this lie was all the convincing he needed. Without hesitation, he ditched his room and set off down the hall, your impending homecoming pulling him forward. 

It was in that moment he noticed just how far the elevator was from his room. The walk seemed to stretch on and on, the hallway growing longer with each step. And how had he never noticed how slowly the elevator moved? It slid downward at a glacial pace, toying with his patience. For such an expensive, state of the art building, the elevator moved like an ancient piece of turn of the century machinery. Bucky cursed Tony’s engineering. 

Everything seemed to add time, multiplying his moments without you. The universe liked toying with him, teasing him. And this was just another cruel joke. 

The moment the doors opened, Bucky sprang free out into the hallway. He knocked into Clint and his group of trainees and called an apology over his shoulder without stopping. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t waste time- not when you could arrive at any moment. 

His field of view narrowed into tunnel vision, only allowing for visualization of the path toward the hangar. He didn’t greet his fellow team members or allow for distraction. You were his one-track mind. That is, until something stopped him. 

“Shit, sorry, man,” your trainee, Jake, laughed as he bumped into Bucky. He took a step to the side and attempted to continue down the hall, but Bucky blocked his path. 

“Jake?” Bucky eyed a bloody gash on Jake’s eyebrow, “when did you guys get back?”

Jake gave a casual shrug and checked his phone, “I don’t know, five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay…” Bucky reached for his phone, but found his screen void of notifications. If you landed five minutes ago with your trainee safe and sound, why didn’t you send him a message? It was out of character for you. 

“Well, where’s your partner in crime? Or crime fighting, I guess,” Bucky tried to joke, but his tone was strained. He eyed each person who came around the corner, hoping to find your face. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Nah, she’s not here,” Jake was scrolling through Instagram, only half paying attention.

Bucky’s disappointed sigh left his chest deflated, empty. “Oh, did she say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

Jake pulled his focus from his phone and stared at Bucky with confusion on his face. His brows pulled together, his mouth hung slightly ajar. But finally, he made sense of Bucky’s words. “OHHH, okay, my bad- I think there was a miscommunication just now.”

Bucky sighed again- this time, with relief. 

“Yeah, no, she’s not here,” Jake continued, “because she didn’t make it back.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. 

The sharp, piercing sound blocked out voices. Footsteps on the tile. Maybe Jake was trying to speak to him, but Bucky heard only the shrill sound of shock. Seconds later, his nerves fell numb. The utter absence of sensation disconnected him from his body. He was lost in a liminal atmosphere with no stability, no purchase. His entire being was shutting down, one sense at a time.

Bucky told himself to focus, to compute what he’d heard. He did his best to make sense of Jake’s words, but to no avail. His mind simply couldn’t understand the phrase “she didn’t make it back”. The words had shed their meaning entirely and sounded foreign to Bucky as they rattled around his skull. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin, and a cold sweat created a sheen across his face. He feared he might get sick. 

“I- I’m sorry,” he forced himself back into his body, back to the present. “I don’t think I understand.” 

“Things got pretty hairy- this was not the easy mission they said it would be,” Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not fair, I definitely got a way harder assignment for my first mission than all the other new agents, and I think it’s-” 

Bucky’s glare could’ve sliced Jake in half, “get to the point.”  

“Right, um,” Jake continued, “I told her over comms that I was leaving. I gave her plenty of time to meet me at the jet, but she didn’t answer. And she never came outside.” He shrugged, “I had to leave for my own safety.”

“So, you just-” Bucky felt himself losing his grip. “You left her there? Alone?” He didn’t realize he was shouting, didn’t realize he’d drawn attention to himself- until Agent Hill showed up.

She placed a light hand on Bucky’s tense shoulder, but instantly withdrew. He was shaking, practically vibrating under her palm. “Is there a problem here, guys? I don’t want-”

“He left her behind,” was all Bucky could manage.

Maria stared at Jake in disbelief, “you did what?”

A strange mixture of rage and heartbreak seethed behind Bucky’s eyes, “You don’t just abandon your partner-”

Jake’s attitude disgusted Bucky. He was detached, irritated. He rolled his eyes like an insolent child. “Relax, man. Jesus Christ, this isn’t the army. I didn’t promise to ‘leave no man behind’ or whatever-”

Bucky had heard enough. He lifted jake by the collar of his shirt, twisting the material in his metal fist. Jake’s head sent a sickening thud resounding through the space as Bucky forced him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck?” Jake squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, “There are casualties in the field all the time, why am I being punished for-”

Bucky released Jake at once, sending him crashing to the floor. 

His voice was quiet, hollow. “Casualties?” He swallowed hard, “Is she-”

Jake shrugged at he rubbed at the bruise forming on his neck. “I don’t know, I assume so. I didn’t stick around to find out.” 

And just like that, Bucky was gone. 

He took off down the hall, forcing himself forward as a soul-crushing panic swallowed him whole. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how fervently he shook his head, he couldn’t rid his mind of the picture Jake painted for him. Each time he shut his eyes he saw you- alone. Your bloodied, broken body laying collapsed against a wall of a Hydra base. Your skin slick with blood. Your skin cold. Void of life. 

He moved quickly, but not quick enough. He simply couldn’t outrun the familiar feeling closing in on him. His heavy, well-worn cloak of grief wound its way across his shoulders and twisted itself around his neck. He knew the suffocating sensation all too well. It weighed him down but couldn’t dampen his pace, nothing could; not when your life hung in the balance. 

He was too well acquainted with loss by now, too familiar with mourning. There’d been a time when he wondered if he’d ever grieve again. He’d lost his family, his friends, himself- what else was there? What more could he possibly lose? But the moment he met you, he knew he’d one day mourn again. He just didn’t realize that time would come so soon. 

A startling cold prickled at his skin, his lungs refused to inflate. How much time did you have left? How long would it take him to get to you? Were you even-

Hill’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, “Barnes, hey-” She made a grab at his shoulder, but her feeble attempt was no match for Bucky’s pace. “Where are you going?”

“To get her back.” Bucky’s tone was firm, resolute. He was going to bring you home or die trying.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hill nearly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides. “You heard what Jake said, it’s a dangerous location- more dangerous than we thought. I think it might be best to wait it out for a few days, let things calm down and then-”

Bucky turned suddenly, stopping Maria in her tracks. “I’m not just going to leave her there.”

Maria shrunk away from the fierceness in his eyes, “I know you’re upset, but she might not be-”

“I don’t care.” His gruff tone dissolved, making way for the fear he’d so desperately tried to hide. “Whether she’s alive or-” he couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative. 

Bucky knew what it was like to be assumed dead. He knew what it was like to be left in the field. 

“She deserves to come home,” he said.

Maria couldn’t argue with him. 

“Round up as many members of the med team as you can and have them meet me in the hangar. We’re leaving in ten minutes- sooner if we can.” Bucky turned and resumed his previous path, “I’ll be in the armory.”

Bucky grabbed as much weaponry as his duffel would carry without splitting at the seams and made his way to the hangar. He hoped to find ten, maybe fifteen members of the medical team waiting for him on the jet. He wasn’t sure of your condition, didn’t know how many breaths you had left. He wanted to give you the best possible chance at surviving the onslaught you endured. 

But when he turned the corner into the hangar, he found only three scrub-clad bodies. 

“Is this it?” Bucky boarded the jet and dropped his bag to the floor. He eyed the scant amount of medical support, their uncertain expressions. His hopes of bringing you home alive dwindled.

A nurse who’d stitched Bucky up more times than he could count gave him a nervous smile. “The med bay is swamped, the team could barely afford to let us come with you.” 

Bucky didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want excuses or rationalizations. All he wanted was to bring you home with your heart still beating. And three medical professionals, he decided, was better than none. 

The flight to your location only gave Bucky more time to worry. He obsessively checked his weaponry, hovered over the med team’s supplies. But no amount of double and triple checking could save him from the spiral. He traveled down the path of every possible “what if?”, leading him only to heartache. No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find a positive outcome. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge the odds, he knew yours were slim- impossible, even. 

And as the jet grew closer to your location, Bucky steeled himself for what he knew he’d find: you, his best friend, his reason for living, his everything- dead. Cold. Lifeless. None of the horrors he faced in the past could compare; no pain could ever be greater. Bucky knew he’d hurt for the rest of his life.

The clouds parted as the jet began its descent. Slowly, a large stone building appeared out of the fog like a monster in the horror movies you loved so much. It stood in an otherwise empty clearing, its shadow looming over the dying grass. Smoke billowed from holes in the roof, the walls. Whatever happened here was catastrophic. Disastrous. 

Bucky’s heart sat lodged in his throat as he imagined you trapped in there. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin as he stared at the looming structure. He had to get you out, even if he died trying.

Just before the jet touched down, an idea popped into Bucky’s head. It scaled the high walls he’d tried to erect to protect himself from thoughts of your demise and grabbed him by the throat. It was smart- brilliant, actually. He was shocked he could even think straight given the circumstances.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, “is comm 1209 working?” He shoved his own comm in his ear and waited for a response. 

“Comm 1209 is on and in range,” Friday said. “Would you like me to connect you?”

He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A few staticky clicks and pops vibrated against Bucky’s eardrum as his comm connected to yours. But he was too scared to speak. What if you didn’t answer? What if he heard you take your dying breaths? Just the thought was enough to make him sick.

He owed it to you, though, to at least try. He’d always said he’d do anything for you, that he’d risk it all for you- and he meant it every time. If reaching out to you over comms exposed him to something horrible, something traumatic and unforgettable, at least he tried. At least he attempted to keep his promise. And after everything he’d been through, what was one more life-shattering, soul-crushing nightmare?

“H- um…” Bucky swallowed the large lump obstructing his throat. “Hello?” He waited a moment, holding his breath the entire time, and tried again. “Hello?”

He waited. 

No response.

“Doll? It’s me. It’s Bucky…” 

The dead silence on the other end of the line dragged on. It seemed like his words disappeared into the air, unacknowledged. Unheard. Maybe the sound of his voice was reverberating inside your ear as you lay dying. Or maybe he was talking to your corpse.

 The thought made him nauseous.

“Please, sweetheart. If you’re there- if you’re able- just say one word. Say anything,” he pled. A long bout of silence followed.

He clenched and released his metal fist again and again, desperate to rid himself of the panic settling into his bones. He was stupid to think you survived, stupid to let himself be optimistic. He made it here as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t save you. He was too late. 

He wanted to take one of his many weapons and turn it on himself. 

But a small sound stopped him.

“Buck…”

He almost fell to his knees. At the sound of your voice, an overwhelming warmth banished the cold that infiltrated his bones. Against all odds, you were alive.

A deep sigh of relief seeped from Bucky’s lungs, “Sweetheart…” 

A hurricane of emotion rattled against the storm doors inside Bucky’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘almosts’. How he almost lost you, how you almost died alone in a Hydra base. But he couldn’t allow it to swallow him- not yet. There was no time for a breakdown. He needed to move, he needed to get to you. 

He shrugged off the grief that rested heavy on his shoulders and swallowed the impending sob that vibrated inside his throat. “I’m here- I’m gonna come get you. Just tell me where-”

A staunch refusal came from your end of the comm, “No- no…” You took a sharp, rattling breath, “no way.”

Bucky didn’t like the way you had to fight to get your words out. You were clearly struggling, doing everything in your power to stay on this side of consciousness. He wondered how much time you had left.

But still, there was a familiar strength to your voice. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the renewed hope of rescue; something was keeping you alive. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me where you are. The jet just landed. I’m gonna get you out and-”

“I said- I said no,” you breathed. “You can’t c-come in here, it’s too dangerous… we were a-ambushed.”

Even in your condition, even when Bucky was your only hope of rescue, his safety was your first thought. You’d rather die alone than put Bucky’s life at risk; the thought made his cheeks pink and filled his chest with a fuzzy warmth. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling.

“If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll just sweep the whole building,” Bucky said, using your worry against you. “That means more opportunities for me to run into Hydra operatives. More time inside the base- it’ll be way more dangerous.” He could practically see you rolling your eyes, “so it’s probably better if you just give me a direct route, don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he envisioned you on the other end. He was certain you were arguing with yourself, cursing his rationale. 

He waited for you to come at him with a sharp retort or a sarcastic quip but heard nothing. The silence on your end of the line dragged on. And on. It lasted far too long for Bucky’s comfort. Surely, you couldn’t still be thinking about his proposition? He’d given you more than enough time to make up your mind, more than enough time to come up with a response. It was time you didn’t have. 

What if you’d fallen unconscious? What if, in those quiet moments, your soul vacated this earth?

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He disembarked the jet, resolving to search every inch of the base. But just as he reached the dark, unsettling building, you spoke.

“F-fifteenth floor. Northeast… northeast quadrant,” you sighed, defeated. “There’s a- a room at the end of this hall, I think it’s maybe an office?” Again, you took a long pause. The energy required to think, to speak, was energy you didn’t have. “Just f-follow the trail of blood.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the thought of your blood leaving a path down the stark white, sterile hallways of the base. But he didn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting you out; this was a rescue. He owed it to you to keep his head level. To focus on getting you out as quickly as he could. 

“The power is… it’s out”, you said. “You’re gonna h-have to take-” 

Bucky wanted to save you from wasting any extra energy, “The stairs. Got it.” 

And while he normally didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, he knew the time required to climb fifteen flights of stairs would push the limits of your survival. 

But he pushed the ever-encroaching sense of doom to the side and put on a brave face for you. For himself. “Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he promised. “Stay awake, and don’t move.”

“As if I h-have a choice,” you laughed a breathy, hollow laugh. A long groan followed. 

Your pain radiated through Bucky’s chest. He didn’t want to climb stairs or scour hallways- he just wanted to be there. To instantly materialize at your side. To bring you instantaneous comfort. He lamented the super soldier serum’s lack of teleportation abilities. 

“You know what I mean, doll. Just stay awake, okay?” Bucky drew his gun and stepped inside the building. “Don’t fall asleep. Do anything you have to do- just stay awake. Can you keep talking until I get there?”

“W-what am I…” You let out a raspy exhale, “supposed to talk about?”

Bucky cleared a long hallway and found the stairwell, “Anything, just keep talking.”

Another extended silence filled the air; it nearly drove Bucky crazy. Your silences held limitless possibilities, horrifying ‘what ifs’.

“It w-wasn’t supposed to be… to be like this,” you finally said. “It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. This was Jake’s first mission- it wasn’t f-fair to him.” Heartache coated your every word. Even after your partner abandoned you, even after Jake forced you to suffer and bleed all alone- you still sympathized with him. Still felt sorry for him. 

Bucky felt no such thing.

“I know, doll. Keep talking, okay?”

You sighed. “We s-split up for recon… that’s when they- when they came at me.” Your next few breaths were so shallow, your lungs barely inflated; the lack of oxygen left you dizzy. A thin veil of glittering spots sparkled and danced on the edges of your periphery. “It all h-happened so fast… there were so many of them. I just- I remember pain. And I hoped Jake was okay, w-wherever he was.”

Your heart was too good for this job. For people like Jake. Bucky admired your kindness, your empathy, your selfless nature. Even in the face of pain, of death- you thought about others. You often told Bucky how unfair life had been to him, lamenting his treatment at the hands of fate. Bucky found himself doing the same for you and your kind heart.

“I called out for h-him, I needed backup… I kept asking him to come help me-” A sharp cough rattled out of your throat. 

Bucky cringed at the sound. It was the only sound in the building. He hadn’t heard anyone else. Hadn’t seen one Hydra operative- at least, not a live one. He came across their bodies every now and again but didn’t see a single living soul. He was sure they deserted after the explosion. Just like Jake. 

The destruction, however, was everywhere. Bullet casings littered the floor. Blood stained the tile floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He had to get you out of here.

“But he n-never answered. And then he told me he was leaving. He said he was- he was outside already. He gave me n-ninety seconds to meet him at the jet…” Your words were tinged with devastation, with hopelessness, with betrayal. “I tried- I did my best to make it down the stairs. But I was- I was dizzy… I was b-bleeding.” The memory stung like your fresh wounds. “I kept slipping on- on my own blood. I just c-couldn’t move fast enough. It hurt too much.”

Wrath burned inside Bucky like a raging forest fire. But his utter heartbreak doused it completely, extinguishing the rageful flames. He found himself unable to think, to breathe. It took everything in him to keep moving forward. Who could ever leave you behind like that? Who could ignore your suffering and sentence you to death without a second thought? The image of you stumbling, struggling to run for your life gutted him.

“And then- and then I heard the jet t-take off,” you sighed. “And I listened as it got farther and farther away… until it was g-gone. And I was- I was alone.”

He thought of you sitting alone in cold silence as the noise from the jet quieted. As your hope dwindled. The entire base must’ve felt like a tomb, like a massive, lonely grave meant just for you. 

Bucky almost fell to his knees. Sobs throttled the inside of his chest, begging for release. Tears burned inside his lash line. Jake didn’t just leave you behind, he marooned you without care. And in his departure, he sealed your fate. 

“I d-didn’t have a way to call for… for help. My phone was on the j-jet with jake.”

The sorrow that stained your words was all too familiar to Bucky. It was the same hopelessness that accompanied him every day that he was at Hydra. When he laid in the snow for hours upon hours after falling from the train. He never wished that kind of despondency, that kind of  misery on anyone. And knowing that you, the person who deserved it the least, experienced it for even a moment shattered him.

“I realized I… I didn’t h-have any options,” you breathed. 

A collapsed column blocked Bucky’s path as he tried to make his way from the sixth floor to the seventh. The concrete was too high, too precarious to scale. If he tried to climb it and got hurt, it would only serve to diminish your chances of survival. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. With a huff, Bucky exited the northwest stairwell in search of another route. This was a waste of time- time you didn’t have. 

He painstakingly checked every hall until he finally found another stairwell. His breathing came a little easier as he rocketed his way up the stairs, growing ever closer to you.

“So, I found this- this room. It’s quiet. It’s out of the w-way. I needed somewhere to hide. S-somewhere to…” A small crack of emotion cut through your voice, “somewhere to die.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jake got to return home safe and sound while you struggled to stay alive. It wasn’t fair that you had to seek out your own deathbed. Bucky wanted to scream, to break things, to spill every last drop of Jake’s blood. But he was a soldier, and this was a rescue mission.

“This seemed like as g-good a place as any,” you choked on a weak laugh. “Beats dying in the middle of a h-hallway, I guess.”

Bucky’s automatic response was to swear that you’d make it out. To promise that you weren’t going to die. But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t make those kinds of assurances. He’d do anything to bring you comfort but swearing that you’d return home alive seemed almost cruel. 

He pushed himself to move faster. He couldn’t let you die alone, especially not in this godforsaken place. As he sprinted up the last flight of stairs and ripped open the door to the fifteenth floor, he struggled to orient himself. You were in the northeast quadrant, but where was he? He searched for anything to indicate his location- but found no signage. No directory. 

Everything inside of him rattled with dread, with anxiety. Any moment now, you were going to die. You were going to take your last breath. All alone. A thick, suffocating wave of panic crashed over Bucky as he realized- you were going to die disappointed. You were going to leave this world knowing that he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

It was then that he noticed a faded arrow painted on the wall, with “NEQ” painted below it in block letters. Northeast quadrant. He was closer than he thought.

“I’m gonna be there in just a second, doll,” he said as he followed the arrows.  “I think I’m right around the corner.” 

This was just his way of making you feel better, you were sure of it. The hallways were long and winding. Each floor was a maze of its own. Even with your vague instructions, it could take him a while to find you. Still, Bucky’s words brought you comfort in the way that only he could.

“I know, I t-trust…” A metallic taste filled your mouth. A warm ooze trickled down your chin and dripped onto your chest. The warm, fuzzy feeling brought on by Bucky’s assurances faded. Of course, you knew you were in bad shape. But as blood leaked from your mouth, you wondered if these were your last moments.

Instantly, you searched for the words to say goodbye to Bucky. Time was slipping through your fingers, life draining from your body with each passing second. But before you drifted off into a never-ending sleep, you had to tell Bucky what he meant to you. You’d use all your strength, your last few breaths- whatever it took. He just had to know. 

But how does one say goodbye to a soulmate? You didn’t have the energy or capacity to make a grandiose speech. And the blood filling your mouth impeded your ability to speak. You wanted to tell bucky everything- how he comforted you, cared for you, made your life worth living. How your life revolved around him as though he were your personal sun. But nothing quite encapsulated the things you felt for him. Every word in the English language, every sonnet fell short. And the lack of oxygen getting to your brain sabotaged your phrasing.

“Buck, I think it’s… I think it’s almost t-time,” you rasped.

But just as you opened your blood-stained mouth to proclaim every feeling you ever had for him, the door flew open. Alarm coursed through your veins at the threat. Surely, a Hydra agent had stumbled upon your hiding place and was here to finish you off. The severe blood loss was no match for your training, thought. And, on instinct, you pulled your gun on the tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Woah, hey!” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

At the sound of his voice, your arm fell limp. Your gun clattered to the floor. Your head lolled back against the wall. It had taken everything in you to try and protect yourself one last time. And now that your energy reserves were nearly depleted, you allowed your eyes to close.

“S-sorry…” A barely-there smile pulled at your lips. “My… my bad, Buck.”

“No, don’t be sorry, doll.” 

Bucky knelt in front of you, taking in your broken, bloodied body. He’d seen carnage before, witnessed more death than anyone should. But this, you- it was different. It hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But he didn’t let it show. Knowing you, you’d spend your last few moments comforting him, trying to make him feel better. And so, he forced a warm smile and tabled his breakdown for the moment.

“I’m actually impressed. I mean, you might be hurt, but you were ready to take me out just now,” he forced a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” His cool metallic hand brushed against your blood-stained cheek. 

And in that moment, something within you changed. Your eyes shot open. You blinked a few times before forcing your eyes shut once again. You gave your head a few good shakes. Surely, this wasn’t real- it couldn’t be. 

You opened your eyes wide once again, taking him in. “Bucky?”

With one shaking hand, you reached for him in the most pathetic attempt he’d ever seen. You were weak, dangerously so; it scared him to his core. But you were alive. 

He leaned in, meeting you in the middle, and let you stroke at his stubble for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he kissed your palm. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“You’re…” you other hand reached for him, but made it only a centimeter or two before falling into your lap. Bucky opted to take it in his. “You’re here?”

He nodded, “I could never leave you behind, sweetheart.”

He may have continued speaking after that, but you didn’t quite hear him. The emotion you’d tried so hard to swallow came bursting forward, crushing your every attempt at remaining levelheaded. Your fingers smoothed over Bucky’s cheek again and again. His name fell from your lips in what resembled a prayer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and mixed with the blood crusting over your skin. 

A soft, warm wave of peace rolled in, covering you like a well-loved quilt. The pain disappeared; the sorrow evaporated. All that remained was Bucky. This was the warm spring that followed a dark, bitter winter. The first rays of sun after a vicious storm. The first taste of home after a long time away. You let the familiar warmth of Bucky’s presence drown out the rest of the world until only you two remained.

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Bucky called you back to the present. “I need to look at your wound, okay?”

A sharp rush of pain nearly blinded you as you lifted your shirt, exposing the bloody mess. But even as Bucky appraised the gunshot wound that turned your abdomen into horror scene, you couldn’t find it in you to worry. Your hands lazily found his shoulder, his chest, his face; you just wanted to touch him. To know, without a doubt, that he was there. That he was real.

“Hey, we… we need to t-talk,” you whispered as Bucky did his best to quickly bandage your wound for transport. “I n-need to talk- to talk to you…”

Bucky nodded, “sure thing, doll. Absolutely. We can talk about whatever you want. But right now…” he returned your shirt to its rightful position and met your gaze. “Right now, I need to get you out to the jet, okay? We can talk later.”

He guided your arms around his neck, lifted you into his arms, and moved as fast as he could through the winding hallways. His quick gait set your nerves alight with pain. Every bump, every jostle had you gasping for breath. And though it was a necessary evil, the guilt still sat in Bucky’s stomach like a rock. His repeated ‘I’m sorrys’ were nearly constant, doubling with your every grimace and groan. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let the time slip away; you didn’t have much left.

Between pained sounds and twisted expressions of discomfort, you said the same thing on a loop. Again and again and again, you pled with him, using energy you didn’t have. 

“We need to… to t-talk.”

“I h-have to tell you.”

“Can I talk to y-you about- about something?”

And though Bucky would’ve loved nothing more than to have a long heart to heart with you as you two often did, you weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t let you waste your finite energy on a conversation with him. And so, he responded to each of your requests with an ask of his own, begging you to save your strength. He promised that the two of you could talk tomorrow, that there was plenty of time for a conversation later. 

But ‘plenty of time’ almost seemed like an empty promise. And ‘tomorrow’ felt like a lie. Would you have a ‘later’? He didn’t know. But he didn’t want you wasting your oxygen, not when he feared it might be your last breath.

Boarding the jet with you alive in his arms almost felt like a win to Bucky. Almost. Sure, he’d gotten you out with your heart still beating, but your condition worsened by the second. And the grave looks the med team wore as Bucky gently rested you on the treatment table dug a deep pit in his stomach. 

They sprang into action, placing IVs and delivering medications. Scissors glided through your shirt and exposed your broken body to the med team. Bucky knew they’d seen their share of gnarly injuries over the years, but he swore that they recoiled at the sight of your wounds. 

With a shake of his head, Bucky refocused. He had to get you out of there- to get you home. He headed for the controls and planned to set the jet in motion. But he made it only a step toward the cockpit before a hand caught his.

“S-stay…” you whispered. “Please.”

His heart shattered. “I’m not leaving you, doll, I promise. I just have to get us in the air, okay?” With great care, he placed a kiss to your hand and set it at your side. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Bucky’s body operated on muscle memory alone as he initiated take off. His mind was occupied, completely and totally, by the sound of your weak voice begging him not to leave. The sound played on a loop inside his brain, cutting him deeper each time. You’d already been abandoned once today; he was certain you feared it would happen again. 

With a deep breath and a quick reset, Bucky did what he had to do. He needed to be on his A-game for you, needed to be his very best. Only a few hours ago, you’d trusted someone with your life, and they failed you. Bucky wasn’t about to do the same. He worked carefully to chart the fastest route back to the compound, opting to forego FRIDAY’s proposed path. It kept him from your side longer than he would’ve liked, but less time in the air seemed like the best option. The sooner he could get you to the med bay, with its massive, brilliant medical staff and unlimited resources, the better. 

Just as he finalized the flight plan and asked FRIDAY to notify the med bay of your impending arrival, an unsettling sound pulled his focus. It was an ominous beeping, alarming your care team of a sudden, life-threatening change. 

Gloved hands moved at lightning speed; voices yelled medical jargon back and forth. And you laid there on the table. No heartbeat. No respirations. Deathly still. 

Bucky stood on the periphery, too horrified to get any closer. 

He thought it best, of course, to stay out the med team’s way. But knew deep down it was an excuse. He was simply too terrified to lose you. If he got closer, if he saw you struggling to stay alive, all of this would suddenly become real. And he couldn’t handle that. 

“Barnes!” A nurse screamed at him, “did you hear me?”

Bucky forced himself back to the present. “No… I, um-”

“She has no pulse- get over here, we need you to do compressions!”

Bucky’s desperate need to help you, to save you, overpowered his fear. And in an instant, he was at your side. He loomed over you, his hands locked together, preparing to help resuscitate you. But once again, his fear reared its ugly head. You were already so badly injured, so weak. And he was far too strong. What if he made your condition worse? What if he-

“Come on!” The nurse yelled at him, “start compressions- now!”

He did as he was told. He pressed into your body with a measured pressure, careful not to crush your chest. But his cautious compressions didn’t cut it. The nurses instructed him to push harder. To “actually compress” your chest- and Bucky followed instructions. 

But as he did so, a sickly snapping sound exploded from your body. Bucky recoiled instantly; his face contorted in horror.

“What are you doing? Keep going!”

“I can’t- I think I broke her ribs,” Bucky shouted at the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Keep going!” The nurse yelled, “It happens- just keep going.”

Bucky broke out into a cold sweat. His stomach turned at the thought of hurting you, of causing you even more pain; you’d been through enough as it was. But he did as he was told. With each round of compressions, he swore he created new fractures. He felt every splinter, every crack as he put pressure on your chest. 

He wanted to sever every last nerve-ending in his hand; anything to rid him of the sickening sensation creeping through his palm. But if doing this saved you, it was worth the nightmares.

He watched as the two nurses provided your supplemental breaths and tended to your endlessly bleeding wound. The doctor called ‘clear’ every so often, shocking you with a defibrillator in an attempt to restore your heartbeat.

Round after round of compressions, breathing, and shocks passed by without signs of improvement. You remained lifeless, unresponsive. A syringe of epinephrine delivered straight to your chest did nothing. And Bucky felt what little hope he had slipping through the cracks in your ribs. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose you; couldn’t believe he’d have to watch you die. Hot tears blurred his vision and streaked down his cheeks. His legs went numb. At any second, he knew his knees would give out, knew he’d crumble to the floor under the crushing weight of grief.

The doctor deemed the next shock your last, and Bucky almost doubled over. 

“Come on, doll, just-” He swallowed a sob, “just stay. Stay. Do it for me, I’m begging you. Please?”

The doctor called one last “clear” and delivered your final shock, only to be met with the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor.

“Sinus rhythm restored,” announced the nurse to Bucky’s left. She appraised the waves on your EKG and gave a nod. “She’s stable.”

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky took a breath. He stretched his tense fingers and did his best to  relax the rock-hard knots forming in his shoulders. A new crop of hope bloomed cautiously inside his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to blossom and flourish just yet. You weren’t out of the woods; there was a very real possibility that your heart might stop again. And he wasn’t sure how many times the doctor could revive you before throwing in the towel.

Less than a minute after Bucky’s cautious optimism sprouted anew, a soul crushing sight dashed it completely. A sharp gasp filled his lungs, a shudder rocked his frame. Shades of deep, dark blue bloomed under the skin of your chest. Black and purple splotches stained your sternum. Some spots were already starting to swell. He extended a hand in your direction but recoiled in an instant, fearing he’d hurt you yet again. 

“Happens all the time,” one of the nurses said with a shrug. “Believe me, broken ribs are the least of her worries.”

Somehow, her words didn’t make him feel any better. He ached to hold your hand, to sweep a gentle caress across your cheek. But he didn’t dare touch you after what he did. Every glimpse of your bruised, swollen chest sent bile rushing into his throat. 

The three dedicated members of the med team worked tirelessly for the rest of the flight. They did everything in their power to keep your condition steady, to maintain the life they worked so hard to save. It brought Bucky comfort to see them staying so close, ready to jump into action if need be.  

Bucky, like the med team, hovered. He couldn’t bring himself to leave your side. You seemed too fragile, your condition too tenuous. He counted your every breath, took stock of every beat of your heart on the monitor. Stepping away for even a second felt wrong. He needed to be there if you crashed again, if the doctor needed extra hands. He needed to be there to help.

And if you woke up, he wanted to be the first face you saw. 

But you didn’t wake. A groan here, a muscle twitch there- that was all you could spare. And though Bucky wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, he thanked the universe for keeping you unconscious. He knew tsunamis of pain rippled in the wings, waiting to overtake you the second you woke.

Bucky held his breath as the jet landed. Every jarring bump, every vibration, forced his heart into his throat. He feared that even the slightest impact would send you into cardiac arrest. He flicked his eyes from the rising and falling of your chest to the rhythmic flashing of your heart monitor and back again. Nothing changed, no alarms sounded. And when the jet finally stilled, Bucky breathed a deep sigh of relief. He just needed to get you to the med bay for treatment, and this whole nightmare would be over. 

He didn’t like being optimistic. It felt like a set-up, like false hope. If he told himself you’d survive and you didn’t, the fall would be that much harder, that much more devastating. 

But being realistic wasn’t any better. Telling himself that you were too far gone, that you weren’t going to make it, felt wrong. To him, it seemed like he was cursing you. Like willing your death into existence. Like begging the universe to end your life. 

And so, he opted for a neutral mantra. “She’s home,” he told himself. “She’s home. She’s home. She’s home.”

The distance to the medbay felt longer than usual. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the double doors to the triage center seemed to grow farther and farther away. Bucky followed your gurney closely, only allowing a few inches of space between the two of you. He couldn’t be separated from you again. He wouldn’t. He needed to be with you every second, watching over you. 

A dark cloud of impending doom loomed over his psyche. It whispered to him, telling him that if he left your side, if he let you out of his sight, you’d die. You’d be gone forever. And it would be his fault. He knew it was nonsense, that this was just his anxiety operating on overdrive. But he couldn’t shake the fear. And risking it wasn’t an option.

“No visitors past this point,” a security guard placed an arm in front of Bucky as he tried to enter the triage unit.

Bucky tried to go around the man, watching as the medical staff carried you farther out of reach. “I’m not a visitor, I’m an agent-” 

“No agents past this point, then,” the guard rolled his eyes. “Only patients and medical staff. You can have a seat over there.”

A small table sat against the wall, flanked by two chairs. It was a sad, makeshift excuse for a waiting room that operated as a device to keep people from hanging around. But bucky couldn’t be discouraged. He took a seat in one of the chairs, determined to wait there as long as he had to. He knew he’d missed a number of important phone calls by now, and probably several meetings. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was you. 

Dread circled Bucky like a buzzard as he waited. It was taking too long- why was it taking so long? How much time did the medical staff need? You were stable when the jet landed, the nurse said so. Why were there no updates? All Bucky needed was a nod, a bit of information. But he remained in the dark, wondering if you died on the operating table.

Maria found Bucky slumped in a chair with a zombie-like air about him. He was expressionless, his gaze hollow. His palms traced the same track up and down his thighs in a never-ending cycle. One look and she knew: something was very wrong.

“Hey,” she called softly, hoping not to startle him.

But Bucky didn’t respond- he didn’t even react. He just sat there, his unblinking stare burning a hole in the tile. An uneasiness enveloped Maria. She’d never seen Bucky so empty, so despondent. As she stared at him, she found herself fearing the worst. ‘Maybe he just received terrible news’ she thought. ‘Maybe he’s grieving’.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging her foot against his. 

He came back to life with a start. A sharp inhale filled his chest, his eyes blinked wildly. But his palms never stopped moving in their endless cycle against his tactical pants. And he never actually looked at her.

“Hi…” he breathed. 

Hill took the seat opposite him. She conjured the gentlest, warmest tone she could find, “is everything okay?”

Bucky balled his hands into tight fists and stretched them out again. Maria noticed blood- your blood- crusting under his fingernails and staining his skin. But before she could get a good look, he grabbed the arms of the chair. His palms rubbed fervently against the plastic handles for a moment until they moved to his face. He ran his hands along his jaw, his spiky stubble poking into his skin.

“Barnes, what happened? Are you-”

Finally, his head snapped in her direction, “I can still feel it…”

“Feel what?”

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He pressed his palms against his eyes and dragged them down his face. Maria watched him fall apart in slow motion. He seemed to be unraveling, one cell at a time. And when he finally spoke, shame made his words almost unintelligible. 

“She crashed on the jet…”

“Oh...” Maria did her best to keep a calm, even tone. Her concern for you vibrated in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it free- not when Bucky was moments away from a meltdown. “Is she-”

“The med team needed help. There weren’t enough of them- they needed me to do chest compressions,” Bucky said, his voice low. “And I broke- I crushed her ribs.” 

A sharp shudder rocked his entire body. Just thinking of that moment, when his too-strong hands destroyed your chest, was enough to make him sick. To scar him for life. To haunt him. Of all the horrible things he’d done in over the years, this was the worst. He gave his hands a quick shake, hoping to rid his nerve endings of the sensation.

“I felt her bones snapping under my hands,” Bucky’s words dripped with shame. “And I can still… I still feel it.”

“Okay,” Maria said gently. “Well, if she-”

“She was already in such bad shape,” Bucky swiped a tear from his cheek. “And I… I hurt her. I made it so much worse.” 

His head fell into his hands once again and did not reemerge. 

“Hey, look at me,” Maria gave his arm a gentle touch. 

Bucky only shook his head. 

“Come on, Barnes, just look at me for a second.”

Again, he refused. 

Maria abandoned her chair and sat instead on the small table. She never got this close to Bucky. Usually, she preferred to give him his space. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type- unless you were around. But he was lost in a shame spiral, adrift with no hope of return. And he needed rescuing. She placed her hands on his and gently removed them from his face. 

“You saved her life,” Maria said. “Twice. You rescued her from the base, and when the med team needed help, you came through.”

“But I-”

“Did it work?” Maria asked, her tine almost stern. “Did the chest compressions work?”

Bucky nodded. 

Maria gave him a shrug, “That’s all that matters. She can recover from a few broken ribs, but if you hadn’t been there-” 

Bucky averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears. 

“Hey,” Maria grabbed his face, bringing his focus back to her. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.”

Maria’s words fought hard against the demeaning voice that lived inside Bucky’s head. It screamed at him, telling him that he shouldn’t believe her, that he was a monster, that he almost killed you. Usually, Bucky allowed his inner demons to run free. He listened to them without pause, believing anything and everything they told him, no matter how vile. But Maria was steadfast and unshakable in her sentiments; she truly believed what she was saying. And by some miracle, Bucky did, too.

“Thanks…” He granted her a hollow smile and a small nod. 

Hill sat in silence with him for a few hours. She didn’t try to make small talk or ask what was going on inside his head. She simply existed near him, sharing the space so that he didn’t have to be alone. She ignored important texts and sent every call to voicemail. She knew it was exactly what you’d do for him, if you were able. And she did her best to fill your shoes.

Abruptly, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction. His pulse thrummed against his skin as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “She kept saying…” he sighed. “She kept saying we needed to talk. She wanted to talk to me about something.”

Maria cocked her head to the side, “About what?”

He shrugged. “I told her we could talk later because there would be plenty of time,” Bucky’s words grew shaky. He found himself near tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. Guilt sucker punched him. “What if… what if there isn’t more time for us? What if that was all we were ever going to get? What if-”

“You’ll get more time,” Maria said with certainty. “The universe has a way of evening things out. You were robbed of time once; it won’t happen again. Plus, you’re deserved some fucking karmic retribution- you’re owed this.”

Bucky wondered how she could be that sure of something so ethereal. But she was steady, solid as a rock. She didn’t waver in her words or add caveats at the end. She, somehow, knew it to be true. And Bucky couldn’t help but believe her.

But when Fury called her for the eighth time, she knew quiet time was over.

“I have to go, okay? Fury can’t do anything without me, he’s hopeless.” She stood from her seat and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked her a million times over and, for the first time, gave Maria a hug. She would never know how much her reassurances helped him. She’d pulled him from the ledge and gave him what he desperately needed: perspective.

In the hours that followed, he let her words play on a constant loop inside his mind. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead,” he heard her say. “You’ll get more time.” The sickening feeling of your bones snapping under his strength never faded, and the fear of losing you still had him in a chokehold, but Maria’s words quieted his mind. 

In the sad, empty waiting room, time seemed to mutate. Some of the hours dragged, others whizzed by. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Was it ten hours? Or twenty? He didn’t really care. He’d wait lifetimes for you. 

He saw the security guards change shifts once, twice. It was the only thing alerting him to the passage of time, as part of him believed it was standing still. On the third shift change, they told him to go home. 

“They’ll call you if there’s an update”, said one of the guards. “It’d probably be a good idea for you to go get some sleep, or something.”

Bucky knew he looked like hell. Your blood left crimson streaks across his face and neck. And the dark circles he usually wore under his eyes were a deep shade of plum. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t sleep. Not when your life hung in the balance. Not when you needed him. 

A few more hours passed with no news, and Bucky found himself teetering on the edge of insanity. An angry, desperate voice bellowed inside his head. It told him to bust through the doors and find you, no matter what it took- even if it meant hurting people in the process. The gun secured to his hip and the knife strapped to his ankle became eerily attractive. His hands itched to reach for the weapons, to hold someone at gun point until they allowed him to see you. But he couldn’t to give in to the fear, to the violence. It took him years of therapy and long talks with you to stop seeing himself as a monster- and he refused to destroy the progress you helped him make. 

A doctor stepped out of the double doors and looked in Bucky’s direction, “Sergeant Barnes?”  

Bucky was on his feet before he knew what hit him. This was it. After what felt like an eternity of not knowing whether you lived or died, he was about to have an answer. Sweat dampened his palm, his brow as he stood in front of your doctor. 

He didn’t know he was even capable of this kind of fear, this kind of agony. And though he was an impossibly strong physical specimen, Bucky knew he’d never be able to lift the weight of the grief that followed your loss. He knew that, if you died, he’d spend the rest of his life dragging himself from place to place, unable to stand, unable to push back against the overwhelming, oppressive force of losing you. 

Your doctor spoke quickly and professionally about your condition, but the words turned to mush the second they reached Bucky’s brain. The combination of medical jargon and pure panic made their meanings imperceptible. But one phrase managed to cut through the fog of Bucky’s anxiety and exhaustion: “you can see her now.”

And just like that, Bucky took off. His fatigued body did its best to carry him through the halls, stumbling every now and then on the smooth tile of the hospital floors. But he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get to you. 

By the time he reached the door to your room, he found himself shaking- almost shivering- with anxiety. He knew you were alive, of course. Knew that the doctors had been successful in saving your life. But something in him doubted their handiwork. Something in him swore that if he didn’t get to you in the next half second, you’d flatline. Again. 

He could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull, his teeth chattered against one another. And the sharp tremors in his hands made it nearly impossible to get a grip on the door handle. Panic and frustration coursed through him as the he tried again and again to gain entry to your room with no luck. A strangled sob forced its way out of his chest and caught the attention of a nurse- one of the nurses who helped keep you alive on the jet. 

“Hey…” Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s shaking hands. “Need some help?” Before Bucky could answer, she’d abandoned the medication she was prepping, discarded her gloves, and made her way to his side.

“Here, let me.” Her soft, sympathetic tone was almost too kind; Bucky’s eyes blurred with tears. She turned the door handle and gestured for Bucky to go inside.

His “thank you” was for more than just the door. 

Bucky took a few steps inside and drew in a sharp breath; he’d never seen you in such severe condition. Over the many hours that Bucky waited for you outside, all of your bruises grew darker, more menacing. They stained your throat, your face, your arms. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on your chest- the ones he caused. Dried blood crusted in your hair and formed a path down the side of your face. It sat caked under your fingernails and rested in the creases of your palms. Thankfully, your gunshot wound was covered by gauze and concealed by your gown. But knowing it was there was enough to make Bucky sick. He, of course, witnessed and inflicted, his fair share of carnage over the years. But he knew your wound would haunt him for years to come- simply because it was yours. 

All he wanted was to be near you. To sit at your bedside and hold your hand. But he didn’t dare to get any closer. Electrodes attached a dozen wires to your chest. IVs sat lodged in the crooks of your elbows, in the backs of your hands. Machines and monitors kept track of your vitals. And who was he to disturb this fragile, vital ecosystem? What if he accidentally pulled out one of your IVs? What if he detached a wire by mistake? He’d already hurt you once today, he wasn’t about to do it again. 

He, instead, opted to stand at attention. A few feet away. For your safety. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even say your name. He simply stared at you, counting your every breath. 

An hour- or maybe two- passed by with him like this. Nurses checked on you, doctors poked their heads in. And every time, they told him he was permitted to sit by your bedside. But he just shook his head. Sure, slipping his hand into yours, being close to you- it would provide him with incomprehensible comfort. But he couldn’t, not when you were so severely injured. 

After the third hour, Bucky feared his sanity was slipping. A wicked voice lodged deep in his psyche suddenly awakened. It whispered to him, taunted him. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he was asleep in the waiting room. Maybe you didn’t survive. Maybe…

And he would’ve believed it, had you not snapped him out of the vicious spiral. 

“Buck?” He feared he’d never hear you voice again, but there it was. Hoarse and weak- but yours.

Bucky flew to your side. He cradled your face gingerly in his hands, completely consumed by the need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were real. His palms laid flush against your cheeks, his thumbs sweeping over your skin. And in an instant, the sickly sensation of your snapping bones vanished.

A hurricane of tangled thoughts and emotions crashed over him. He had so much to he wanted to say, so much he wanted to confess to you. But the words refused to arrange themselves properly. Suddenly, Bucky wished he’d used his ample time in the waiting room to better organize his thoughts. He wished he’d sought out a pen and a scrap of paper and used them to plan and articulate his sentiment. But even if he’d found the supplies he needed, he wouldn’t have been able to jot a single thing down. Not with his shaking, unsteady hands.

Anxious words and broken sobs got stuck in his throat and formed a garbled, unintelligible mess as they left his mouth. But it was the best he could do. He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I, um…” you looked at him for a long moment. The haze of head trauma, blood loss, and pain killers made you foggy. You did your best to trace your steps back through Bucky’s words, certain that your condition was the cause of your confusion. But after a significant pause, you came up empty. “Sorry, I- what?”

Bucky slid one of his hands into yours and gave a soft laugh. “Sorry. I tried to say-” He sat quiet for a moment. What had he tried to say, exactly? He wasn’t sure. With a small shake of his head, he re-rerouted. “Um, it doesn’t matter. Here, how’s this:” He cleared his throat and spoke with the sharpest pronunciation possible. “How are you feeling?”

Your laugh- Bucky’s favorite laugh- bubbled up to the surface. But regret swallowed you whole as pain shot through your head, your chest, your side. The hurt radiated through your entire being. It rendered you breathless, and left your face twisted in an agonized grimace.

Bucky didn’t like how long it took you to recover from the small chuckle you shot his way. A pang of worry shot through him.  “Don’t exert yourself, okay?” He swept a thumb across your cheek, “you don’t wanna tear your stitches or...” He cleared his throat, “aggravate any, um, broken bones.” Bones that he broke.

“No, I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. The pain slowly receded. “I’m good, I’m okay. I just- breathing is hard. I forgot how shitty it feels to have broken ribs.”

Bucky nodded. His teeth sunk into the smooth flesh of his cheek. A metallic taste coated his mouth. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. Didn’t want you to know that he was the cause of your severe pain. But you deserved to know, didn’t you? With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, intent on telling you what really happened. But you cut him off. 

“Thank you, Buck. For coming to get me. I really thought I was…” Hot tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. “I thought that was it for me, you know? And I just want you to know how-” you sniffed, “how grateful I am.”

Bucky left your side for only a second, retrieving a box of tissues from the counter across the room. He was back in no time and swept a tissue across your cheek to catch your tears.

“I know we always say that we have each other’s backs but you… you meant it,” you said. A small smile pulled at your lips, “thank you for meaning it.”

Bucky nodded. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, to wait for your last moments- alone. 

“I wasn’t gonna leave you there, doll. I couldn’t.” 

You gave a small nod. “Yeah, I- I wish my partner had felt the same way…” The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. It sliced though Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t think he would ever do something like that. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

The mere thought of Jake brought a familiar rage to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so uncaring- so indifferent to the well-being of others. The part of him that swore off unnecessary violence remained quiet as the rest of him imagined Jake’s demise. He wanted your disloyal partner to suffer. To squirm and squeal and regret that he ever left you behind. But that could wait- you were the priority.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person,” Bucky sighed, “he seemed like a stand-up guy.”

Silence filled the room as you thought over Jake’s desertion. His abandonment hurt. It stung in places you didn’t expect. You’d taken Jake under your wing and did everything in your power to be the best leader possible. All you wanted was to help him. To set him up for success. 

And after working alongside Bucky for so long, you’d forgotten that disloyalty to one’s partner was even an option. 

“He probably panicked,” you tried to rationalize. “And then once he realized what he’d done, maybe he…”

There was no rationalizing this. 

An ugly realization slithered into your mind. “After he left, I think he probably hoped I’d just die… that way I wouldn’t be able to give my side of the story.” The weight of Jake’s actions hit you like a train. Rivulets of warm tears rolled down your cheeks, only to be swept away by Bucky’s gentle hand. With a small shake of your head, you did your best to banish the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Wallowing would only make you more miserable. And you didn’t need emotional pain on top of the physical agony that already plagued you.

“Well, joke’s on him,” you shrugged, “cause I’m still alive.” Pain radiated through your chest, bringing a grimace to your face. “Kind of.” 

Bucky didn’t understand how you could just dismiss the bad feelings. Couldn’t understand your propensity for levity. Your partner left you for dead without a second thought- and yet, you found a way to joke about it. It was something he’d always admired about you, something he wished he was capable of. 

You gave a strained laugh, “I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out that I didn’t die.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. It left his mouth without his brain’s authorization.

“But you did.”

He wished to take the words back, but it was too late. They hung in the air, just out of his reach. 

“I…” you struggled to grasp Bucky’s words. “I what?”

This was not the time- or the place, or the way- to tell you the truth. But he didn’t have a choice. His clumsy words made his bed, and now he had to lie in it. 

“You, um…” Bucky didn’t want to think about what happened, let alone say it out loud. But he owed it to you to be honest. Especially after Jake had lied to you about being a trustworthy partner. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his face, ran a hand through his hair. Anything to delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t put it off for long. “Your heart stopped- you died. On the jet.”

Only one word fell from your lips, “Oh…” 

“And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that…” Bucky took a deep inhale. He was in too deep now. And keeping this from you any longer felt like lying. “That your ribs are broken because of me.”

A quizzical look crossed your face, “what do you mean?”

“I mean… the med team was short staffed on the jet. There were only three of them. And when you crashed, it was- it was an all hands on deck situation.” He flashed back to the moment when the alarms sounded. When your EKG flatlined. A shudder ran through him. “They needed me to do chest compressions. And I- I didn’t want to hurt you, but the nurse said I wasn’t pushing hard enough to actually help you. And when I pushed harder- I broke your ribs.”

Bucky searched your face for something- anything. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. But he found nothing. Your expression was as neutral as they come. He feared that something lingered just below the surface. That once you fully processed his words, you’d erupt into a perfect storm of disgust and disappointment.

He told himself to wait silently until you made up your mind. But the outburst exploded from his lips before he could stop it. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I’d never want to hurt you, I would never do anything to hurt you. But I… they told me I had to push harder. Or it wasn’t going to work. And I just wanted it to work, I wanted you to be okay, and-”

It took almost all of your strength to raise your hand and place a finger to Bucky’s lips. He fell silent.

“Buck, it’s okay.”

He tried to form a rebuttal, but you cut him off. 

“You didn’t have to rescue me, but you did. No questions asked, no hesitation. You saved my life by getting me out of there. And you saved me again by helping the med team.” Your hand drifted from Bucky’s face and landed in his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your palm. His eyes fell downward. You could almost see the shame eating him alive from the inside.

 “Hey,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “I can handle a few broken ribs.”

“No, I- I know you can. I just…” A sad smiled flickered across his lips. “I feel terrible. You went through a lot. And I just don’t like knowing I made it worse.”

A long silence filled the room. You’d seen this side of Bucky more times than you could count. And you knew him well enough to know what followed. He was going to feel bad- terrible, actually- about this for a while. There was no accelerating the process or absolving him of his guilt. No amount of reassurances could save him from it. He just had to sit with it. One day, the weight would diminish. But it was going to take time. And that was okay. 

You gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought your voice was a hallucination, you know.”

Bucky lifted his head.

“And when you came into the room, I actually thought that was a hallucination, too.” A smile stretched across your face, “I mean, I thought I was losing my mind.”  

Bucky gave a half-hearted chuckle. He didn’t want to think about you in that room by yourself. About you struggling to tell what was real.

“But then you touched me…” You raised your hand and brushed it across your cheek, mimicking him. “And that’s when I realized that you were real- that you were there.” You fell quiet for a moment, lost in the memory of Bucky’s rescue. “It was like, in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was just scared that…”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to laugh,” you told him with an authoritative tone. “Cause I know it’s corny, or cheesy, or whatever.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drew an X over his heart. “I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, sizing up his promise. But, of course, you knew Bucky would never tease or ridicule you about something like this. 

“Okay, fine, I um… I was scared that I’d never see you again. If I died, I mean.”

Bucky’s lungs emptied. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak. A sudden ache ripped through his heart as it splintered and shattered into a million pieces. To know that you thought of him in what you believed were your last moments somehow ripped him apart and put him back together all at once.

Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes. “I was afraid that we’d already run out of time. I was afraid that we weren’t going to get any more.” A few soft sobs escaped from your throat, followed by a pained groan. But you pushed passed the throbbing in your chest. “But I was so relieved. Because I got to see you one last time. It was the most intense sense of peace I’ve ever experienced.”

Bucky struggled to hold on to his composure. He felt himself crumbling, weakening under the weight of your words. 

“But then I realized- I realized I’d never get to tell you. And you kept saying we could talk later, but I didn’t know if there would be a ‘later’. And when I blacked out, I was so full of…” You shook your head ever so slightly, sending a few tears dripping onto your cheeks. “I had so much regret. Because I needed you to know.”

“To know what?” Bucky leaned in close, searching your face for any inkling, any clue. “Doll, it’s ‘later’. Tell me- whatever it is. You can tell me now, it’s-”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss. In it, everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing forward. Admiration. Longing. Lust. Obsession. Adoration. Love. 

A sting of pain jolted through you as your split lip brushed his, but you didn’t care. His hands found your face, your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. It was always supposed to be this way. 

When the two of you finally separated, Bucky simply stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he knew how. 

“I love you, Buck. I’ve loved you- for so long.” A huff left your chest, “So. Long.” 

Still, Bucky remained silent. Nerves began crawling through you like vines, twisting their way through every fiber of your being. But you owed it to yourself, and to Bucky, to tell him the truth. 

“And I just… I know how you see yourself. And I know you don’t think you’re even worthy of my friendship, let alone love. But I was so anxious, cause I thought you’d never know the truth. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you. And you’d live the rest of your life thinking that you’re not worthy, that no one could ever love you. But I- I love you. I just needed you to know.”

The silence made your ears ring. Bucky’s face still wore a mask of bewilderment. And you feared you’d ruined everything. 

“You don’t have to say it back, though,” you said. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend if this is an unrequited thing.”

Finally, Bucky came back to life. He rolled his eyes and let a scoff escape his lips. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours. “Unrequited? I broke every SWORD rule and policy. Abducted medical staff. Stole a jet. And went on an unauthorized mission. All to get you back. I didn’t even know if you were alive, I just- I had to bring you home.” 

He closed the small gap that remained between your face and his and granted you warm, gentle kiss that tasted like home. “I did all that- and you thought there was even a chance that I didn’t love you back?” Bucky gave a playful roll of his eyes, “you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

You returned his eye roll. "Well, you're a really great friend to me. And you always have been. So, I didn’t take a rescue as a proclamation of love,” you gave a strained chuckle. “I just thought-”

“I’ve loved you for…” Bucky thought back over the course of your friendship. The day you first met, the first time you helped him through a panic attack, the time he made you the ugliest cake in the world for your birthday. He saw his life in two parts: before he met you and after he met you. And he so preferred the after. 

“I don’t even know how long,” he shrugged. It was almost automatic. His feelings for you didn’t need a slow, gradual build up. They descended upon him all at once, like the world’s most beautiful avalanche.  “It’s been a long time- an embarrassing amount of time, probably,” he laughed.

“Oh, so we’re both cowards then,” you shot him a wink. “Too afraid to tell the other how we feel.”

Bucky nodded, “It seems that way…”

“But you weren’t too scared to steal a jet and run into possible gun fire?” you quipped.

“Nope. Didn’t even think about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to find you.”

You’d never experienced a love- a commitment- like that. It sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks and somehow eased the pain plaguing your body. You knew in your heart you would’ve done the same for Bucky without a second thought. But knowing that he was so fiercely determined to bring you home felt almost unbelievable. You had the proof, though, right there in front of you. This man, who you loved, loved you too. And loved you enough to risk his life for you. It wasn’t something you’d ever ask him to do, and you knew you’d never have to. He’d do it without hesitation. Without reservation. He’d walk through fire for you if it meant bringing you home. 

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

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[eraserbread]

MEAN NANAMI, I BEG. He's so annoyed with his wife!! I'm talking hair pulling, (loving) slaps, all of it. I need you to write this I think It'll save me

i'm taking any reason to make kento call u nanami baby, im not sorry. also... who let her out of the house? (≖_≖ )

kento's in from work, exhausted to the bone, and thoroughly peeved. it's a long story, and he doesn't want to think about it anymore, so the first thing he does is phone his savior.

"dear?" he calls when you aren't at his beck and call immediately. the house was quiet... a bit too quiet for his liking. there isn't any comforting music playing, no comforting smell of dinner on the stove, and more gravely -- there's no you.

but, he gives it another try.

"nanami, baby?" silence. he's fuming.

that's all it took, now the straw is broken over the camel's back.

in your defense, you didn't think he'd be home right at 6. he usually takes his time on his commute back, but he got off a bit early today and didn't tell you. it's your biggest mistake to date. you failed at the one thing he expected of you.

so, you are definitely thoroughly surprised and a bit flustered when you come back home in the car he bought you, flushed from rushing home from a friends place, to see him right in the entryway, fist tightened against the handle of his briefcase.

"ken, i'm so sor-

"hope whatever kept you so long was worth it."

"it was just-" you pause, turning around to click the door shut and locked. with your back turned you make a small, pained face. he drops his briefcase.

"i'm waiting for the excuse..."

"i just got caught up at my friends, we started watching a show and I... i wasn't paying attention to the clock. i should've been home hours ago, I know. I'm so sorry, I'll get right to working on dinner, let me just..." you're all over the place, sliding off your own shoes and shedding your outside clothes. the only thing on your mind was 'what can I make him that takes the least amount of time?'

salad? no. ken would be even more pissed if you handed him a plate of raw vegetables and called it dinner.

omlettes? stew? chicken?

a million options come to mind, and you're not even thinking when you pass right by him and into the kitchen to begin. he just... watches you, shifting so he can keep a constant, deep glare on your back.

"hope you're not forgetting anything." he bites, then drops his briefcase, making quick work of his tie.

then, it fucking dawns on you and you're scurrying over your feet to help him shed his day away. but, you're too late. he already has his fingers tangled in the buttons on his shirt and isn't even looking at you anymore.

yeah, you're an idiot.

so, he has you by the hair, huge fist wrapped tight as he walks you to the bedroom. it's hard -- impossible, really, to keep up with him, so he's doing most of the dragging.

"i hope you see just how upset i am with you." though he's seemingly upset, his voice is still as soft as a whisper, clueing you into the fact that he doesn't actually hate you, but he'd fuck you like he did.

"i know, i'm so sorry. so-

"shut up." he doesn't even flex the single arm that sends you stumbling into the bedroom, needing to steady yourself across the footboard. it's still unmade from this morning, too. your stomach drops.

"just what have you been doing all day?"

he wants an answer. he expects an answer.

"I just - I..."

he waits, raised eyebrows and expressionless. you swallow back a lump, holding your breath as you try and gather your thoughts.

"surely you weren't at her house all day?"

"it was a high school friend, I had to." now, you're begging. for him, for mercy, for more. all of it. ken never gets too mad at you -- not like this. you can see it in his once-kind, welcoming eyes. they're shadowed.

"present yourself to me over the side of the bed." he begins, looking down as he pulls his belt off, whipping it through the loops and letting it drop in a shattering clang.

you don't move for a second, staring open mouthed at him like a fish out of water.

"need i repeat myself?" his tone goes completely left, treating you like an annoying student who wouldn't take no for an answer. he's holding it a bit louder, breathing heavily through his nose. "chest to the mattress. Now."

that gets you going in 2x speed, heart hammering cruelly in your chest as you rush to the bed, keeping your clothes on as you rest your front against the mattress. it's instinctual when you bury your face into the sheets, not wanting to see his disapproving face anymore.

you'd let him do anything to you if it means he'd wipe that look off his face.

"you remember, don't you?" he starts, unbuckling and letting his work pants pool around his thighs once they fall. there's no waiting for a shaky answer, he continues. "few weeks after I proposed, I told you what I needed from you... the one thing I always needed. what was it?"

it's like a fucking quiz. you suck at tests, and he told you a lot back then. "uh-

"you're not stupid." suddenly he's behind you, taking a grab of your ass under your loose cotton skirt. it's too long to pull up like he wants, so he waits. "the one thing."

"dinner?" then, he spanks you and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to choke out a surprised cry. he's never shown you this side before... you love it.

"shit! i'm sorry, so sorry."

"i work five days a week, nine hours a day... everything you ever glanced at, I've given you. cars, this big house, this fucking skirt on your ass... it's mine. the one thing I've always wanted in return is your comfort after my long day."

you could cry right now, you're so mad at yourself. "so sorry, ken... i'm so sorry, i knew that."

"sorry is nice, but it won't make me feel better." he decides, then leans down to yank your ankle length skirt high above your waist. somewhere inside of him, he debates gagging you, but wouldn't want to miss your pretty cries. so, he decides against it.

he reaches, dragging two fingers through your cunt, swimming in the fact that you're already so wet for him. he was afraid his mood would turn you down, but if anything, you're weeping for him.

now, kento would never hurt you, really. but, he will and is about to fuck you black and blue. after all, you're the naughty one -- just you. he won't tell you his shitty day filled him to the brim with unkempt angst and he had to expel it.

you're whining under his touch, rising to your tippy toes to try and chase it once it pulls away. little did you know, you're trying to chase the quick little slap he lands right over your needy cunt, sending you crying into the mattress.

you're so turned on, it's scary.

but, when you try to turn around to see if ken's just as affected, he closes his hand around the top of your head and pushes you back into the bed. he's got a socked foot pressed into the mattress next to your hips, giving him the perfect alignment to ease inside of you ever-so-kindly, not giving you any clues to the way he's about to,

ravage you like a beast.

"oh, thank you. god, thank you. thankyou, mm."

"hate when you annoy me... just don't be annoying - fuck."

"this 's why i married'u... gonna -- mmf, fuck. I'm gonna make you limp, 'f you're not pre-mgh-gnant now, u're gonna be."

"need to hear you say... lemme hear it, n-nanami, mm, sweet girl."

"iloveyou." you squeal into his hand as he pierces you fully on his cock, feeling the throb and ache of him flooding your insides with him. it leaks and drips as he takes you through it, sneaking a few fingers in your mouth to play with your tongue.

he's panting like a heathen behind you. it's the most you've heard him speak in one sitting in... forever. it's the most expression he's ever showed.

if you could hear his thoughts right now, all you'd hear is s symphony of:

lovelovecomfortprettycomfortingbeautifulselflessselfishinterestinglovingcomforting

you're his everything. but most of all, you're his entire idea of comfort and safety personified. even when he's fucking you halfway to death, he stops to kiss your tears away and tell you,

"'m sorry for bein' so rough. thankyou for takin' it. love you s'much.."

lucky you

[evie-sturns]

first date - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a perfect first date with matt, the last thing you expected is for him to make such a big move after he drives you home, you definitely aren't complaining after though,

contains: fluff, an intense makeout session, shy!matt (to an extent) swearing.

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

tonight had just been perfect,

i met matt at a party last week, and i couldn’t say no to his somewhat amusingly awkward self as he asked for my number.

he was just my type, his loose brown waves draped over his forehead, his earrings catching the light from the party and sparkling, and his shy demeanour.

he messaged me a day ago, asking if i wanted to go out for dinner with him, which i obviously agreed to.

10:21pm

i shivered in the cool air of the night, smiling up at matt as he ordered you both an ice-cream cone,

“you cold?” matt asks softly, i nod as i sink my top teeth into my bottom lip as a weak attempt to stop the chattering of my teeth.

“a little bit,” i laugh,

matt instantly takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders,

“why didn’t you bring a coat? it’s like the middle of december.” he scoffs, nudging my elbow slightly.

“shuuush, i didn’t know you’d take me out for icecream at like- midnight!” i throw my hands up defensively,

“righhttt.” he grins down at me.

-

the night was coming to a close as you jumped into the passenger seat of matt’s car, clutching an icecream cone in your hand as you fiddled with the seatbelt.

“you okay?” he asks, starting up the car.

“yeah- i’m still cold though.” i roll my eyes playfully, matt instantly reaches out and fiddles with the heating, cranking it up.

“wait what the fuck- since when did i have the option to have heated seats!” he exclaims, his jaw slack as he pushes the button.

“ew matt! my butts warm now.” i groan, instantly turning off the button.

matt laughs loudly as he pulls out of the parking lot, staring the drive home.

i look over at him a couple times, his ringed fingers gripping the steering wheel catching my eye.

i’m definitely staring now.

his hands were perfect, he was perfect. i genuinely did not catch one wrong thing about him from the date.

he was shy, but the right amount of shy, i could tell he was starting to get more comfortable around me, which i liked.

matt pulls onto the highway, the car roaring as he accelerates.

i continue to work at my icecream cone, trying to stop the massive staring problem i’ve picked up.

matt’s playlist plays through the car, his knee bobbing up and down as he listens to it.

“you live down here right?” matt asks, pulling off the highway into a small neighbourhood.

“you remembered!” i grin,

“of course i did.” he speaks back, his tone light hearted.

“i’m just down here.” i say, pointing to a street sign.

he pulls into the street, his car slowing down as he scans the row of houses.

he parks the car in front of my house. swallowing lightly as he turns off the car.

“thank you- so much for tonight matt.” i say, my tongue darting out to lick my lips,

“yeah- yeah no problem..” he whispers,

“we should do it again soon.” i speak, matt nods.

“i’ll text you, okay?” he says, a nervous smile on his face.

“okay- yeah.” i grin, a undeniable tension building in the car…

i grab my purse and reach for the door, but matt clears his throat.

i look over my shoulder at him, he looks nervous as shit.

he reaches up and cups my jaw, the cold metal of his rings pressing against my flushed cheek.

he leans over the centre console and presses a kiss to my lips.

he pulls away pretty quickly, knowing this is the first date and we shouldn’t do any more… right?

but for some reason, the feeling of his lips on mine linger.

i stare at his lips, not moving.

i need more.

i know i’m going to have to initiate something, knowing he’s to shy to make a lot of moves.

“can- can we do that again?” i speak, my voice hoarse as i break the silence.

he nods instantly, his hands clenching by his sides.

i lean back over the centre console, grabbing his chin as i press my lips to his again.

my face heats up instantly, pure ecstasy flooding through my body.

he deepens the kiss, his head tilting to the side as our noses brush.

goosebumps cover my arms as his tongue slides over my lip, practically begging for entry.

i don’t know what comes over me, but in a matter of seconds i’m climbing over the seats,

i sit down on matt’s lap, straddling him as i break the kiss.

he stares up at me, his eyes wide and full of need.

he grabs the back of my head, instantly reconnecting our lips.

“fuck..” he whimpers against my lips,

i feel a familiar heat growing between my thighs, my skirt riding up my legs as i practically devour him with my lips.

he just tastes so, so good.

his hands paw at my waist, grabbing the fabric of my thin shirt as he holds me.

i subconsciously rock my hips against his thigh.

he gasps against my lips as i grind against his clothed thigh.

“oh my god..” i whisper against his lips as i pathetically rub myself against his leg.

i feel myself getting too into it, not wanting to rush him on the first date.

i break the kiss, the windows now foggy.

he looks up at me with pure desperation.

god he looks hot.

his lips are smeared with my red lipstick, the pigment messily coating his chin. his eyes are narrow and hungry, and his hands are gripping my waist, tight.

i reach up and wipe his lips, trying to remove the lipstick stains.

“i’ll- i’ll uh- okay- um-“ matt stammers,

“i’ll- i’ll text you.” he croaks out, his hands sinking into my waist.

“okay- okay.” i breathe,

i quickly crawl back over the centre console and grab my purse.

i look back at matt over my shoulder, his lips are puffy and red.

his hair is dishevelled, and as my eyes travel down his body.

he is most definitely hard.

i grin at him before swinging open the car door,

“b-bye- bye!” he calls out shakily,

“bye matt-!” i smile as i step out onto the footpath, shutting the car door behind me.

i jog up to my house, my heels clicking on the driveway.

i swing open my front door and suck in a well needed deep breath.

i walk over to my couch, and before i even have the time to sit down my phone vibrates frantically in my pocket.

5 new messages from - Matt

my eyes scan over the messages, which read.

“come back to the car”

“i seriously need you right now this isn’t funny”

“please”

“i’m still parked outside please”

“i’ll literally do anything.”

and before i know it, i’m rushing for my front door and running down the driveway towards matt’s car.

——-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnn n @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo larsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette e @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101saroona a @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[biisexualemma]

forget it. matt murdock

word count: 3.3k

requested: nope

warnings: none but a bit of angst

plot: matt kissed you and told you to forget about it

a/n: i confess that i've had this hidden away in my drafts for a very, very long time with 90% of it written up :/ but nevertheless it's here now and you can give it a read and let me know what you think. personally i LOVE this fic and deeply love matthew murdock, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

masterlist

"hey!" you beamed, entering the familiar bar full of familiar smells and faces. you immediately encountered the strawberry blonde who's face lit up when she saw you.

"you came!" she cheesed, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tight. you laughed, squeezing her back an appropriate amount. "i thought you told foggy you couldn't make it?" she quizzed, forever the detective.

"i know," you admitted, pulling out of the hug so you could see her lovely blue eyes, your hands still touching her forearms. "guess i changed my mind-- i couldn't miss your birthday celebrations, what kind of friend would i be?"

"a terrible one. i'd have been bad mouthing you all night," she wore a teasing smile, eyes glistening like they always did. they glanced away from you, locking onto something behind you when you remembered you hadn't arrived solo. "am i in need of an introduction?" she quirked an eyebrow, corner of her lip turning into a smirk as she eyeballed the brunette slowly coming up behind you, a hand snaking around your waist.

"oh, sorry, right," you babbled, your fingers touching your forehead at your forgetfulness and lack of manners. "this is my friend, patrick," you glanced at the man on your left who's eyes were focused on karen's inquisitive blue ones. "pat, this is karen."

"hey, nice to meet you," he held out his free hand for her to shake, which she took, offering a kind smile. your heart tightened at the interaction. "y/n's told me a lot about you."

"none of the embarrassing stuff i promise," you quickly added when she gave you a worrisome side eye, causing you to choke out a laugh. 

she seemed to glide right past this and straight into interrogation. "i didn't know you were seeing anyone?" she gave you another glance, trying desperately not to give away what she was thinking although it was fairly obvious to you. you were sure most people in this room were thinking the same thing. what about matt?

well, what about matt was that he kissed you drunkenly one night, and told you to forget all about it the next morning. so you did, though it broke your heart a little. you had only been in love with him the moment you laid eyes on him that first day at nelson and murdock and you always had a sneaky suspicion that he felt the same. based on the gentle way he spoke to you, his reassuring nudges when you were stressed over a case, soft creases in the corners of his eyes when you would laugh a little too hard at a joke foggy had made. karen and foggy teased you relentlessly about it for months, you brushed it off and matt would just shake his head and laugh. and then he kissed you, it was late, you both had been at josie's all night drinking and you helped him home because your apartment was only a block over from his, even though he insisted he was fine. you trailed with him up the steps, stopped outside his door and he stood to face you, swaying a little closer to you as the alcohol effected his balance. you grabbed hold of his forearms, giggling a little as you let out a soft woah there tiger, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

you hadn't spoken again since he caught you the next morning before work and told you that to remain professional you should both forget anything ever happened and move on. 

you tried to move on, you met patrick not long after but it didn't feel the same as it did when matt had kissed you. you suspected it never would. but patrick was nice, he was kind and he could be funny sometimes. there was no reason for you not to like him and enjoy spending time with him.

"it's still pretty new," you forced yourself to smile and lean into him affectionately no matter how unnatural it felt. you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, not spend it worrying about what other people were thinking. this was hard to do though when you had spotted him across the room the second you had walked into josie's.

you found it hard to engage in conversation, thankfully karen and patrick were both naturally very chatty people, and kept the conversation going despite your lack of involvement. you couldn't help your eyes trailing over to where matt stood, talking with foggy.

that was when foggy caught your eye, his eyes widening along with his smile as he waved madly at you before marching over. matt trailing behind his friend, looking a little lost. 

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, but you managed to catch patricks attention. he turned to you with a quiet hm? but it was too late, they were both here already.

"you told me you weren't coming!" foggy beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. you let out an uncomfortable laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're turning me into a liar," he teased as he pulled away.

"sorry," you breathed out a laugh, glancing at matt who stood carefully next to foggy and karen, quietly listening in on the situation with slightly furrowed brows. "it was last minute," you bit down on your bottom lip trying to disguise your discomfort.

"this is y/n's friend patrick," karen quickly changed the subject to avoid rehashing the same conversation. "they're new," she gave you a small wink like she was saving you the trouble of explaining everything again to more people.

matt let out a quiet hm which went unnoticed by most but not by you, you shot him a quick glare. you reached down for patricks hand and held onto it with your own. "this is foggy, and matt," you introduced, forcing a gentle smile. you watched patrick shake hands with foggy, before he moved to shake matt's hand. matt, however, just stood there, eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses, hands to himself.

"you have to be verbal with him, you know, talk him through your intentions" foggy teased his friend, a smirk lining his lips as he glanced at matt out the corner of his eye. "he can be a bit slow."

matt snorted, ducking his head to hide his laughter. patrick spluttered and froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. they really thought they were so funny. you rolled your eyes, pulling away from patrick for a second so you could slap matts shoulder and then foggy's. matt snorted a little harder at the contact from you, foggy frowning slightly as he rubbed the area you'd hit him. "both of you, knock it off,"

karen rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. 

"oh, relax, it was just a joke," foggy continued to rub his arm, his smile slowly moving back onto his face. "matt's blind, not slow. he can't see you or your handshake."

patrick's face was a picture, it almost made you snort out a laugh, but you held it in, biting down on the inside of your cheek. his mouth hung open, eyes wide like he had offended matt somehow when he in fact had done no wrong. matt and foggy just liked to have fun with this kind of thing.

"oh-- shit man, i'm sorry i didn't know--" he glanced at you for help and you couldn't help but crack a smile, quickly hiding it with the back of your hand. you reached out and touched his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, shaking your head. 

"we're just messing with you man," matt reassured, a smile lining his lips that looked a little too amused as he held out his hand for patrick to shake. "nice to meet you," he spoke with a tight jaw, his hand gripping patrick's a little too tightly. 

"pat, d'you wanna grab us a drink?" your hand still on his shoulder, you gave him a gentle nudge towards the bar where he stumbled off with a quiet yeah 'course. "you've probably just scarred him for life," you said to the group once patrick was out of ear shot.

the three of them burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. you had missed this sense of normalcy between the four of you that had been missing for a while.

-

"hey," matt mumbled, approaching you from behind almost as soon as patrick had left your side to grab a cab outside. he nudged your shoulder with his as he moved to stand in front of you, he leaned an elbow against the bar you were sat up at. "how you doing?"

you pulled your eyes away from his and down to your drink where they had been moments ago. "i'm fine," you said softly, carefully avoiding his vacant stare. even if they were covered by those red lenses, you found matt's stare incredibly hard to keep, he had a way of looking right through you. "you?"

"fine," he nodded, his voice raspy and quiet. you brought the glass in your hand to yours lips and sipped slowly, as he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. "is this how it's gonna be from now on?"

"don't know what you mean?" you sat your glass back down, gulping down on the lump on your throat.

"yeah, you do," he rolled his eyes slightly. he gripped the stool in front of him, that sat between the two of you. "i don't want things to be weird with us."

you shook your head, pursing your lips as you swirled the alcohol around in the glass. "why would things be weird?" you tried to play it off, but you gave yourself away with your fidgeting and quietness when you spoke. 

"because i kissed you, and i shouldn't have," he lowered his voice as he said, his head ducking slightly to grow closer to you. you glanced at him for a second but quickly pulled your eyes away again, shaking your head again.

"you said forget about it," you repeated his words back to him. "so i forgot about it, matt."

"we haven't spoken since--"

"we're speaking right now--"

"before tonight you haven't said two words to me-- you've been getting karen to send messages to me from the next room--"

"why'd you think that is?" you snapped, he was relentless and you couldn't listen to his guilty conscience any longer. "you were an asshole matt. what you did hurt, and i don't feel like forgiving you yet so you'll just have to deal with it for a little longer."

he was taken aback by your sharpness, he visibly retracted from you. you grabbed your drink and gulped back what was left in the glass. "i'm gonna go find my date," you slammed the glass back down and slipped off the bar stool and onto your feet, you shrunk in front of him. he wore a soft frown, his lips pressed tightly together. "see you in the office, matt."

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. you glanced down at his soft grip on you before meeting his stare. "don't go with him," he muttered only to you, his jaw tense. "i'll take you home."

you yanked your arm free pretty easily, he wasn't holding onto you very tight. he was giving you mixed signals and it was making everything that was swirling around inside your head much harder to deal with. "it's not funny to mess with me like this, matt," your voice cracked slightly, breaking your hard front you had put up with him. "leave me alone."

-

patrick had picked up on your change in mood on the drive back to your place but didn't want to ask what had caused it for fear of having to discuss it. he dropped you off without a word on the matter, kissed you goodnight and didn't try to invite himself in.

you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, head resting against them and your eyelids drooping. you were so tired from the events that occurred that night but your mind was so busy it was keeping you awake.

you really hated matt right now. he was so selfish for acting the way he did, he didn't seem to care how you felt about any of it. he'd made the decision to forget about it, and that was that. only to send you mixed signals tonight. it made no sense.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes when there was a knock on the door. you climbed up and over the door, confused as to who would be knocking on your door this late at night. maybe patrick had forgotten something.

you peeped through the hole in your door, letting out an exasperated sigh when you saw matt on the other side. hesitating with your hand loosely on the door handle, your groaned and quickly swung the the door open.

"what are you doing here, matt?" you asked quickly, head resting against the edge of the door. you features turned into a soft frown, as you watched him jittery in front of you.

"i didn't want to leave things between us like that," he confessed. "you're my friend and i don't want you to hate me because i did something stupid."

his eyebrows raised, creating creases in his forehead, his cane was propped against the wall and his hands expressively trying to show you just how much he meant what he said. his eyes were hidden behind those glasses but you could figure out just about how they probably looked. buggy and intense, like the rest of him. 

"will you shut up and come inside, i have neighbours and i don't want them to hate me," you yanked his shirt and pulled him into your apartment along with his cane. you let out a deep sigh when you shut the door behind the both of you, turning you found matt not too far behind you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"i don't hate you," you said after a brief silence but he gave you a frown that wasn't convinced by what you'd said. "i don't... i'm mad at you, and i don't think you can blame me."

"i know but i want to fix this," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "i really want to fix this because i can't stand you being mad at me," he removed the glasses from his face, his familiar glossy brown eyes appearing from behind them. "i'm used to having you around, bugging me and foggy and making jokes to lighten the mood in really heavy cases. you're sweet and kind and everything that i can lack sometimes when i don't have you there to keep me in check," he was letting loose.

"c'mon matt," you shook your head. "i miss how things were in the office but you clearly don't understand the gravity of what you did, so i can't just go back," you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a huff of air, your eyes so tired and your body exhausted from having this conversation so many times with him.

"i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he admitted, his eyes distant but focused at the same time. "when i kissed you, it was impulsive and stupid. i wasn't thinking about how it would change things, all i could think about was you."

you shook your head. matt stood silently, eyes unfocused as he listened to your rapid heartbeat.

"i'm tired, matt," you sighed, a small frown falling on your lips. "i've had enough of this for one night, you're really messing with my head."

"i'm not doing this to mess with you," he took a couple steps closer to where you were standing near the door. he listened to your uneven breaths as he grew nearer. "i was being selfish when i kissed you— jeez' and i still am now."

he ran the palm of his hand over his face as he came to the realisation that he was only continuing his selfish rampage by being here in your apartment right now. "i'll go," he mumbled, his head falling down, his gaze directed towards the floor now. "sorry for being a jerk."

you, amidst matts outburst, stood quite still, your mouth hanging open slightly as his words replayed in your head. you tried to speak but you couldn't think what to say, everything about this was so confusing.

he brushed your shoulder as he walked around you and pulled at the door handle to leave, but you quickly, without hesitation, pushed the door shut again before he got any further.

"wait a minute— why do you think i'm mad at you?" you eyebrows knitted together the longer you thought about what he'd said.

"'cause i kissed you," he repeated, his hand lingering near the door as if he was expecting this conversation to go south.

"and you were being selfish because?" you asked him to clarify, your chin touching your shoulder as you glanced over to look at him.

"because... i was so caught up in wanting to kiss you, that i didn't even consider whether you wanted me to," he felt like you were dragging this out now just to humiliate him. 

you were quiet for a moment, twisting the rest of your body around so you could look at him properly again. his hands clutched onto his cane, eyes hidden behind the red lenses he'd propped back onto his face but you could see the frown, the confusion in his expression.

"matt," you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself to smiling. you wanted to slap yourself for being so blind, matt you couldn't blame. he hummed. "i was mad at you for telling me to forget about it. not because you kissed me."

his expression softened, it was a sight to behold. the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, but unsure, his eyebrows knitted for a split second as he tried to form his words into something coherent. "wait— so you—"

"—wanted you to kiss me, you idiot," you rolled your eyes, letting out an amused snort. 

"you're kidding," his words came out slow, his brain ticking over as he caught up with you. "i only told you to forget about, thinking that's what you wanted."

"i haven't been able to forget about any of it," your voice soft, unsure still of where this was going.

matt was quiet for a moment, you could see his brain working through the stages until he spoke again, his smile slipping for a second. "what about pat?" he put some emphasis on the nickname, almost making fun.

"patrick never kissed me like you did, murdock," you shook your head softly, hopeful in your attempt to convey just how stupid you'd been in all of this. "in fact, you all did a good job of scaring him off tonight. i think he realised he was getting involved in something far more complicated than he signed up for, he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"he was an idiot anyway," matt's smirk slowly crept back onto his lips. "not good enough for you," you took a solitary step closer to him when he said this.

you hummed. "and you figured that out from a five minute conversation with the guy?"

"i know you, y/l/n," he matched you, taking a step closer, now only a few inches apart. you hummed again, watching as he stared right though you. it was in your nature to argue with him on this, but he was right. matt murdock knew you better than anybody, and he was still here, waiting for you. "he was too nice for you."

you cocked an eyebrow, your hand reached out and grabbed his tie between your fingertips, pulling it ever so gently. you hummed again. "and what would that make you, murdock?" you were teasing when you said it, but matt edged closer to you, moving with your tug of his tie. one hand jerked the bottom of your shirt, closing that last inch of space between you two, the other had moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

"i can be nice," his breath fanning your face now that you were in such close proximity, he heard your own breath get caught in your throat, lips parting slightly as his brushed against yours. "but not tonight." 

[squipa]

willlll u write maybe Jason and reader get into an argument and he feels rlly guilty about it and tries to be forgiven

yes!! thank you for the rq nonnie <33

———

for reasons wretched and divine

aka you and jason fight on valentine’s day

———

jason’s violent. he’s volatile. angry, broken, his knuckles are littered with little red marks and bruises, his eyes shine green with a little bit of the darkness that lets his blood pump. he’s a fallen star, cratered in the center of a hellish abyss. his light, which had once been so bright, burns everything around him.

everything except you. you— the oasis, an angelic field, bright with a light that isn’t fire, an island he can take solace in beyond his life of ash and ruin. you tend to the burn marks under his skin, quietly soothing them with nothing but the love you give to him so freely, the adoration you press into his lips, the warmth you trace over his scars.

in the oasis, he isn’t violent. he isn’t volatile. he’s not angry, or broken, the scars on his knuckles begin to fade, the green in his eyes shines with the gift of life. he’s gentle, beloved, and happy. your light shines brighter than the sun, the rays pouring past his skin into his heart, healing him, making him whole. he’d stay there forever if he could. he doesn’t know why he leaves. he doesn’t know why he strays. you’re his home, the only person who nurtures the dying light of his fallen star, the only person who believes he could ever shine so brightly.

perhaps no amount of love can kill that fire. nothing can make him forget the sensation of burning alive, crawling out of a corpse and into a world that liked to forget him. he hates the burning in his chest, a flame that devours and destroys, who can never let him live in comfort, or understand peace. he runs from it, taking cover in your arms while you blow back the smoke. you’re the only one he wants to protect from the all consuming heat that controls him.

he isn’t always successful.

you don’t normally get angry. occasionally you’ll get distant, retreating into a shell for a day or two before you force yourself out of it, apologizing profusely and explaining your emotions with a tenderness that melts the ice thick between you.

but today, you’re livid. you feel the anger bubbling up in your chest, a sorry substitute for the sadness and betrayal that made tears burn against your eyes. it’s a sick feeling, really, and it’s probably magnified by the glass of wine you drank alone a few minutes ago when you heard jason’s bike pull in.

you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks when he walks in. shame. you feel small, sitting alone at the table, unable to look at him without that disastrous combination of fury and sorrow boiling over.

you feel like you don’t ask for much. you give everything you can to him, treating him with much more care than you do yourself. you drop everything when he comes to you, silently pleading for your arms to hold him close. you’ve learned when to give him space and when to deprive him of it— and rarely, very rarely do you ask him for anything, because his company is all you really want.

but it’s valentine’s day. or, it was. it’s the 15th now, somewhere around two in the morning. you’re tired. upset. disappointed. mostly, you’re hurt. you’re disgusted when you see him in that goddamned suit, hiding any emotions under that goddamned helmet.

“didn’t know you’d still be up.” he says, quietly. his voice is rough, scratchy from a night out on patrol. he quietly slides his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his forehead. you still can’t look at him, instead choosing to glare down at your empty wine glass.

you were very clear with jason. you didn’t hint, you didn’t play around, you told him: i want you to take me out for valentine’s day. just one day, you want to see the effort you give endlessly to jason given back to you.

“i didn’t mean to—“ he sighs, cutting himself off. he feels so far away, despite being no more than fifteen feet away. “valentines is a busy night. people get crazy. i got distracted.”

distracted.

you sniffle. “distracted?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows, your tone sullen.

he frowns. you can see it out of the corner of your eye, along with the fact he hasn’t put down his helmet yet. “look, i’ll make it up to you.” it sounds impersonal, a placation rather than an apology. that’s what gets you.

you stay silent, trying your hardest not to lose your temper.

“can we just not tonight? i’ve had a shit day—“

your eyes snap up to him. “are you serious?”

you could deal with the anger, the disappointment, the humiliation you felt while you scrolled through the instagram stories of your friends with boyfriends who care enough to honor a dinner reservation. but the dismissal pushes you over the edge.

he furrows his eyebrows, scrunching his face up like he’s annoyed. that pisses you off, makes you lose any semblance of coolness and boil over.

he grimaces. “it’s not that big a deal. i was out there saving people who needed actual help—“ he starts. you stand up from your chair, incredulous that this is even an argument, fuming mad.

“it was important to me, jason!” you yell, upset in a way that makes tears prick at your eyes.

he scoffs, crossing his arms. “i don’t have time for this.” your eye twitches.

you feel your fists ball up, a manifestation of your overwhelming frustration. “come on, jason!” you exclaim, shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “i ask for one thing— one night of your undivided attention, and you can’t give me that! it makes me feel like i don’t matter to you!”

“i’ve had a really shitty night, i really don’t feel like fighting right now.” he says, his voice firm, his eyes trained on you with the slightest hint of anger behind them.

you take a step closer, getting louder, madder. “too bad, because i want to fight! because you let me down, again!” you yell, your arms flailing around, trying to find your point without any direction.

“you know me, you know my life!” he yells back, finally getting upset, finally losing the grip he has on his temper, one he normally holds onto so tightly around you. “it’s not my fucking fault you got your hopes up! you should know that some things take priority over shit like valentine’s day!” he continues, slamming his helmet against the countertop. you flinch, but it doesn’t deter you.

“i do so much for you, i give up so much time and i put in so much effort, and all i wanted was a nice date and you couldn’t be bothered to show up!” you scream, your arms expressing more emotion than your face as they move around.

“my world doesn’t revolve around you! i told you i wasn’t relationship material, that i fuck up! but i have to be perfect for you or else it’s the end of the goddamn world!” he yells.

“i try—“

“no! you push, and you nag, and you make everything so much harder than it has to be! and then when nothing meets your impossible standards, it’s my fault!”

the tears that had been burning at your eyes spill over, cascading slowly down your red hot cheeks. you stop in your tracks, the fight draining out of you. jason knows you better than he knows himself, he knows your biggest insecurities revolve around being a burden, about being too much. and he used that against you to win a stupid fight.

you pause, trying to breathe without hyperventilating, hiccuping as you push air in and out. you look up at jason with a glare harsher than you knew you were capable of, ignoring the subtle regret in his eyes, or the way his muscles tensed with anxiety. you weren’t paying enough attention to see his heart break in his eyes, to notice how ruined he looked.

“get out of my apartment.” you say lowly, only when you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak without breaking down.

he pauses, flexing his hand open and closed, so close yet unable to reach out, before grabbing his helmet, opening the door, and slamming it shut behind him.

you didn’t know he stayed outside, ear pressed against the wood. you didn’t know he listened to your sobs, wiping away quiet tears of his own, wishing hell upon himself for how badly he hurt you.

he burned you. he couldn’t taken haven in your oasis forever, not when he was consumed with devastating fire. he’s not good, not the way you want him to be, not the way you think he is. he’s lived in that fantasy, the one where he’s the type of guy who would never hurt you, not the man he was tonight.

he’s disgusted by himself. how easy would it have been to apologize? you’re so forgiving, your arms always open wide with second chances, opportunities for him to pick himself back up. he’s convinced there’s no coming back, no way to claw himself out of this one.

you don’t see him for awhile. you don’t call, you try not to think of him more than you have to. you don’t go out, you just sit there, hurt, lying in bed trying to sooth the burns underneath your skin. you have no idea jason is destroyed, a wreck of guilt and regret, a ball of self hatred and hurt.

he doesn’t know why he does this, why he bites. why he hurt the one person who actually puts up with him, the one person he can’t help but love.

he knows he’s not who you deserve. he’s the kind of guy who waits out later than he thinks you’ll stay up because he didn’t want to disappoint you on valentines. he’d never been in a relationship before, he didn’t realize that reservations filled up, flowers sold out, and he’d be the only sucker left in gotham who couldn’t figure out how to give you the night you wanted.

and then he came back and saw you, staring down at the table, your eyes red, and his heart shattered. he should have apologized, fallen to his knees and held you close, done anything he could have to make it up to you. why didn’t he?

but he yelled at you. no, he hurt you, and then he yelled at you. he made you cry. he made you feel like his dumbass shit was your fault, when all you did was love him and care about him and ask for nothing but the bare minimum.

he has to make it up to you.

so, he uses his key while you’re at work, buying the nicest flowers he can afford, cooking your favorite dinner, lighting a thousand little candles around the apartment.

of course, disaster struck.

maybe he got distracted while he was cooking, nervous in a way he had never felt before, nervous that he had no chance of being forgiven. he tried his best to perfect the meal, but he failed to notice that the flame from one of the candles was a tad too close to the expensive bouquet he had set in the center of the table until the smoke alarm went off.

the ordeal of the fire meant that he neglected the nice filet of salmon sitting on your stove top, being cooked in just enough heat to start a grease fire when neglected, which he failed to notice until he finally got the fire extinguisher to work on the flowers, making a mess of your apartment.

he didn’t notice the pan fire until after you walked in, your eyes wide in panic and surprised when you noticed the smoke and fire and jason destroying your apartment.

“don’t worry!” he grunts, spraying the fire extinguisher on the stove, effectively putting out the flames. he sighs, grimacing at the mess he managed to make.

you pause, your eyes darting around the apartment, taking in the smoke and scorch marks that hadn’t been there when you left for work. you close the door and set down your purse on the small wooden table by the door, pressing your lips together in a small frown while jason looks at you like a puppy who just did something bad.

“i…” you start, but you have no idea what to say. “are you trying to burn down my house?” you ask, a bit shocked. he frantically shakes his head.

“i’ll clean it up, i— fuck. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to fuck this up.” he says, frowning. he takes a deep breath, looking down, embarrassed. “i was trying to make it up to you. late valentines or whatever, but the flowers caught on fire and then dinner did too and— shit. i’m a jackass, okay? i shoulda taken you out, made you feel special, because you’re my… cause i care about you, and you deserve to be treated better than i made you feel. i made you cry, a-and that’s eating me alive, ma, i… i’m really sorry. i wanna make this right. you don’t burden me, at all, you do so much and i was just taking out my guilt on you cause i felt bad about ruining your valentines, which you didn’t deserve, cause i’m the jackass. you shouldn’t ever let me talk to you like that.” he continues, firmly. “i wanna make you happy, i love you. i’m so sorry.”

his eyes flicker back up to you, red from his cheeks to his chest. your shoulders fall, releasing a mound of tension that had sat on you since the day of the fight. your eyes flicker from jason, who’s staring at you with overwhelming anxiety, to the fire extinguisher foam on your table, to the smoke clinging from your roof, back to jason. you feel tears welling up behind your eyes, this time not because of anger or sadness or disappointment, but because you’re truly touched by the… attempt at a gesture, and the speech he gave.

“i’m gonna let you clean this up, while i go get ready for the date you’re about to take me on, okay?” you say, smiling softly at him.

he lets out a soft sigh of relief, grinning back at you. he gently drops the fire extinguisher to the ground, crossing the distance between you, his eyes locked with yours.

“you’re amazing.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss against the top of your head while he pulls you into his chest. your arms surround him as well, holding him close for the first time in too long.

“don’t think i’m gonna let you forget about this one.” you say, grinning against him. he pulls back a bit, only to lean down, his lips a breath away from yours. his hands slide down to your waist, his palms sitting at your hips.

“wouldn’t dream of it.” he says, his eyes flickering green as they meet yours again.

the moment you go to say something more, his lips are against yours, swallowing your breath. he’s soft, taking his time exploring your mouth because he hasn’t been able to in a painstakingly long week. his hands move around your body, one cupping your cheek to keep you close to him, the other lightly playing with the skin of your thigh.

he pulls away for a second, just one, his touch nothing but gentle, holding you like he never wants to let go. “i missed you.” he says, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face. he presses a quick kiss against your nose, “i love you.”

you grin, basking in his warmth as he soothes your burns, sucking soft marks into your skin before he insists you go and make yourself pretty for a night you’ll never forget.

while jason is fire, made of flames that burn and destroy, around you? his fire is nothing but a hearth that keeps you safe and warm. you’re his paradise, a place he cannot destroy, a place he would never dream of burning.

you make him the man he dreams of being. no, he cannot burn you, he burns for you. and he’ll never let himself forget it again.

———

1. this is my first rq on here!! im soooo happy and i think it turned out pretty well!! :) i’m looking for more writer mutuals, so plsplspls if u write dc and want moots i am hereeee

2. i’ve never really written fighting before, so i tried to make it realistic. i read a lot of fights where either one character is extremely flawed or they try to make both characters flawless, which i don’t exactly agree with. jason can be an asshole for sure, he is the most traumatized character on the planet, so i tried to write both characters with justifications for their actions but still kinda acting like dicks yk. i hope u enjoyed !!

[makeitworse]

MR GENERAL

more older bf seungcheol hcs. 18+

⠀ ⠀WOULD YOU MAKE ME YOUR BOSS, PRETTY PLEASE?

✦ you’re always showing cheol reels and “brainrot” (he learned that one from you) slop he couldn’t understand for the life of him. you once said “what the sigma?” and he looked at you like you were speaking in tongues. still, he makes an effort, even if he picks up the lingo wrong half the time. he’ll randomly parrot slang he’d heard you say with no lead-in, just to get a reaction. you cringe more than anything, but it’s worth it since it usually earns a laugh from you— especially when he earnestly tries to learn tiktok dances with you, creaky joints and all.

✦ one father’s day, you wrote him a card that referred to him as your “old man”, signed “with love, your barely-legal baby”. it was just for the fun of it, to piss him off. it worked. he nearly choked while reading it, and your stomach hurt from laughing when he got genuinely irritated at you. cheol swore he’d burn the damn thing, but it’s still tucked into the back of his nightstand drawer. he didn’t have the heart to destroy something you made for him, even if looking at it makes him shiver.

✦ not the biggest fan of when you hang out with the younger members too long, especially when they make you laugh. you’ve never given cheol a reason to doubt you, but his mind’s prone to spiralling over these things. he’s well aware that he’s older— not the exciting, youthful guy you could have. sometimes he gets quiet after you come home from spending time with the group, like he’s trying not to let his insecurity show. but you know him better than that. and you always find a way to remind him he’s the only one you want.

✦ the world’s most prolific cuddlebug. he plays it cool in front of the others, but behind closed doors? you can’t get him off of you. cheol sleeps with an arm wrapped fully around your waist, nose buried in your neck, like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. it’s even worse when he’s tired or sick— he becomes the clingiest, grumpiest man-sized baby alive. won’t move unless it’s to pull you even closer.

✦ he never lets you open doors, never lets you pull out your own chair. he’s already there before you can even think to, hand on the handle or the backrest before you can blink. you used to tease him for being so chivalrous, but he’d just shrug like it’s second nature, saying “you shouldn’t have to lift a finger when i’m around.”

✦ for someone who tends to lay off his phone, the majority of his storage is his ridiculous amount of photos of you. candids, selfies. silly ones where you’re drooling in your sleep or messily chewing a drumstick. blurry ones you didn’t even know he took. he takes great pride in being your personal photographer; particularly over the fact that alot of your social media posts are pictures he took. cheol once admitted that he scrolls through his photo album during quick breaks at work. “you make everything else there feel boring”, he’d said with a shy smile.

✦ mixed in with the soft ones, though? a stash of very not-safe-for-work pictures and videos. you know exactly what he likes— lingerie that hugs your figure right, a sultry drip in your voice when you say his name. his personal favourites are the videos: he’s a sucker for the ones where you’re on your knees for him, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glossy and pliant. he watches them when you’re not around, desperate to feel close to your warmth with a hand wrapped tight around himself, your name under his breath.

✦ sure, you miss him often. but cheol misses you more. hell of a lot more. has to dip out of rehearsals sometimes when your texts get a little too bold— sending him a risqué photo and he’s suddenly painfully hard, pressed against the inside of his pants with no relief in sight. he’s older, sure. he tells you his stamina isn’t what it used to be. but when you touch him right, look at him with half-lidded eyes and your lower lip between your teeth? he could feel like he just turned twenty again. and he’ll keep going until you’re the one tapping out.

✦ he’s got a bad habit of getting in moods where he’s insecure about his body— especially when you’re surrounded by younger guys with flat stomachs and endless energy. he doesn’t say it outright, but you catch him glancing in the mirror with a critical eye, going out wearing baggy clothes and layered outfits. you always tell him how sexy he looks anyways. once, he wore a black compression top to the gym; about to throw a sweatshirt over it when you practically launched yourself at him. the rest of his clothes didn’t stay on for much longer after that… but he’s been wearing them more ever since.

✦ it doesn’t matter if you’re completely, 100% in the wrong— if you yelled at him, accused him, even lied— the second your voice cracks, eyes shining with tears, cheol folds. his anger evaporates, replaced by panic and guilt. can’t even remember what you were arguing about. he cups your face with both hands, voice soft and broken: “hey, no, baby. please don’t cry.” you could get cheol to do just about anything for you, if just to see you smile again.

✦ he’s in that stage of his life where marriage and family are very real potential, not just dreams saved for later. he thinks about what it would look like: how it’d feel waking up next to you every morning, little kids running around with your face. but he’d never pressure you. would never ask more of you than you’re ready to give. “don’t feel like you have to do anything,” he says one night, thumb stroking your cheek. “long as i get to keep loving you. that’s enough.” and you’d always be his number one girl anyways.

mlist · taglist 〃

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @nicaeno @babycaratdeul @sseungcheols @sunnysidesins @livelaughloveseventeen @nezhamoment @nervousaggressive

@cheers2hani @chocolattexyz @riyahwooahae @macheriezz @onceuponateenagetrash @choshushu @theold8 @thedragonholder @jihooniesss @markkiatocafe @channieschubbycake @okinawwa @cheers2hani @accalus @hhwksixjshs @priisprii @wenhuihuii @t-bag2 @natalicss

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨*

Pairing: Jisung x Reader (Smut)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Aphrodisiac, Oral (M), Choking/Hair Pulling(M), Multiple: Rounds/Orgams/Creampies, Riding, Unprotected sex. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

Find Request Here

-🖤

Jisung had just came home from the store. He had gotten some new chocolates he said tasted really good. When he showed them to you, you couldn’t help but laugh “Ji you know what these are right?” You asked.

“Uhm- good chocolate?” He said.

“These are aphrodisiac chocolate, they’re supposed to make you super horny” you said laughing even harder.

He rolled his eyes “those don’t work”

“Whatever you say, we still going into the studio?” You asked.

“Yeah I gotta get that song done” he replied back.

A little bit later you both headed to the studio. He sat down to work zoning in on his song while you sat on the couch playing on your laptop. It had only been about an hour since he had eaten those chocolates but boy were they hitting him hard now. He felt hot, his cock painfully hard for no reason. He could see the little spot on his pants from the precum. Any movement he made his cock rubbed against his pants making him bite back a moan. He was so so sensitive.

In his clouded thoughts you had gotten up to see how the song was coming along. Your hand brushing over his back making his body even hotter. “Y/n” he whispered.

When you answered back with a hum he turned his chair around. His eyes were hazy, face a bit red. You could see the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Oh- thought those didn’t work hmm?” You said with a grin.

“I’m so hard it almost hurts” he whimpered. “Help me please” he said those big doe eyes looking up at you.

You wanted to have a little fun with this. Jisung was a pretty needy person as it was however this was next level. You wanted to see how much he’d beg “tell me how much you want me, tell me what you want me to do” as you said straddled him. The pure pressure of your body against him was enough to have him drooling. “I want you so badly please- I fuck- do anything I just need you baby” he whined. He grabbed ahold of your hips rolling himself against you. “Please anything y/n fuck-“ he groaned out.

When you got up from him making him whine loudly. Hands chasing after you, you couldn’t help but feel turned on. Jisung was begging so nicely. “Gotta take your pants off Ji” you said getting down on your knees to pull them down. When his cock was finally free he let out a sigh of relief, his cock was so hard. The amount of precum leaking from the tip had your body moving before you could think. You quickly licked over the head his eyes going wide as his hips bucked up. “S-sensitive” he mustered out.

His words only driving you more as you took him back your throat. His head falling back hands frantically gripping at your head. He pushed his hips up to meet your movement letting out the most desperate moans. “I’m already so fucking close-“ he said.

He gripped your head rougher before pushing into your mouth faster. Fucking into your mouth with such need. His cock head hitting the back of your throat. You swirled your tongue around his cock as he used your mouth. You could feel the drool dripping from the sides of your mouth, eyes blinking as tears pricked at them. When you brought your hand up to massage his heavy balls his body stuttered. “Shit- shit!” He moaned out before pushing harshly back your throat. Streams of cum pouring down your throat.

You swallows around him before his hands came to cup your face. He moved quickly pulling your body up to him, slipping your sweats down. He groaned seeing you had no panties on “since when did you not wear panties?” He said.

“Since my dummy of a boyfriend took aphrodisiacs” you said with a chuckle.

You positioned your body on top of him his hands gripping at your hips once more. When you aligned him with your cunt he gave no warnings before pushing into you. He bottomed out quickly his long thick cock hitting your cervix almost instantly. He pulled your body to him fucking up into you ruthlessly. His pace was fast and deep his already overstimulated cock pounding into you.

His nails were digging ever so nicely into your skin, his head in the crook of your neck. His moans were full of need and desperation. “Ji- fuck you feel so good- gonna have to get you more of those” you teased.

He nipped at your neck in response “you’re gonna take them with me next time” he said. He wrapped his arms around you lifting you up. He wrapped your legs around him moving you to the couch. Laying you back down against the couch he pushed your legs up to your chest. His hand came down to toy with your clit before his movements continued.

The new angle made him feel even deeper. His balls smacked against your skin as his pace became quicker. “Fuck- fuck- y/n you feel- fuck you feel to good- m’close” he whined out. Your hand came up to his head gripping at his hair before tugging on it slightly. He liked his hair being pulled almost more than he liked being choked.

The tug was enough to send him over the edge, his cock twitching as it painted your walls. He didn’t stop though oh no. If anything it made him more desperate to do it again. To have you cum with him this time. His hand that was on your clit moved down swiping the cum that dared to fall. He brought his fingers up to you and you happily sucked them clean. Jisung may have a bit of an oral fixation cause when you kept sucking on his fingers he let out the most pornagraphic moan you’ve ever heard from him.

His body was becoming a bit limp from already cuming so much. You took the opportunity of his jello like body to push him back on his back. You straddled him once more before bouncing on his cock. He moaned loudly hands digging back into your sock ass. “Gonna cum again for me ji? Gonna fill me full and let me cum all over your sensitive cock hmm?” You said.

He nodded “y-yes, please- fuck- cum baby” he said. Your hand quickly came down wrapping perfectly around his throat. You rode him relentlessly. His cock bullying its way against your cervix. Your head falling back in the pleasure. You jumped feeling Jisungs hand playing with your clit again. The way your cunt clenched around him had him seeing stars. He dug his feet into the couch before thrusting into you.

His thrusts met yours “gonna-“ you said softly before Jisung thrusted up once more. “Cumming!” You almost screamed as your high flooded over you. Waves of pleasure head your cunt squeezing him hard. His mouth hung open as he came once more. Both of your bodies shaking. You let go of jisung throat laying your body against his.

Both of you tried to regain your breathing. It was only when you went to move did you notice. Jisung was still hard. “How much of that chocolate did you eat?” You asked.

“Uhm.. like 3 bars” he said softly.

“Jisung- are you serious? You’re probably gonna be hard for like 2 hours” you said with a chuckle.

“Let’s go home and I’ll fuck you on every surface” he said.

“How about we get a drink first and then go home” he smiled.

He nodded. When you got home he kept his promise. He fucked you in every room and any place he could. His cock only softening after almost the 10th orgasm. He was so raw by that point his poor cock red and way over sensitive. You were no better though. You had cum about half that amount however the last orgasm had you squirting all over him.

You both laid on the floor breathing heavily before he got up. He ran you both a warm bath grabbing water and some snacks. With no words he pulled you to the bathroom. Snuggled up in the bath he kissed you softly. “Remind me to read labels next time” he chucked.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[majinbangus]

happy birthday little simon

"You're inviting me to the lad's birthday?"

At this point in time, he kind of expects to get a knock on his door more times in a week than he ever did during the entire duration he's lived in this flat. Most weekdays- when you leave for work and drop off your lad at school- the boy likes to make a quick stop to say good morning. It's become somewhat of a routine. Sometimes it's a sleepy greeting, but little Simon is a cheerful child who has taken an odd liking to him, and vice versa.

"If you can make it."

Then there's you. The sunny child's mother. An easy presence to be in. Refreshing like the ocean breeze during a calm day. Something addictive he can't get enough of.

"When is it?"

This is new. You switched up the routine by coming a second time at midday after he returned from the gym, freshly showered. You faired better when he opened the door compared to that one time. Granted, he was fully dressed, but it was a little disappointing; however, you did have a reason for visiting.

He could tell by the tension surrounding your eyes. Focused like you were on a mission. He supposes you technically are on one. Inviting Simon to your boy's birthday.

"Saturday."

He furrows his brows. "This Saturday?"

"Yes."

"That's tomorrow."

"I know it's a bit last minute, but..." You sigh, running a frustrated hand over your face, frowning at the ground. "No one RSVP'd."

"No one?" Simon nearly growls, offended on the lad's behalf. "What about his friends? The little fuckers don't want to come?

You purse your lips, crossing your arms. "We sent out invites to all his classmates, but ever since we moved, Simon's been having trouble making friends."

"He has trouble?"

"It's not his fault!" You snap before grimacing, lowering your voice, "Sorry, it's just... Simon tries to make friends, but kids are mean, you know? They're young, but they already have their established friend groups and exclude him because he's new."

New. Different. Any reason along those lines. It doesn't matter to kids. Or it does, and that's why they're unjustly cruel to their peers. He understands. Simon grew up with many of his schoolmates avoiding him for being 'weird', not knowing his home life. Tommy had 'friends' but they weren't exactly a good crowd.

"So you want me to come?" Simon asks, and he's met with a tired expression he's never seen on you before—not even when you were sick and weak and needed to be looked after. You look as if you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, about to collapse.

"He tries not to let it get him down, but if no one shows up..." You bite your lip, a flash of pain in your eyes at the thought of your son hurting. "Please? He likes you, and even if you're the only one who shows up, it'll mean a lot to him."

Simon looks at you. Really looks at you and takes in the desperation in your eyes. You look as if you'd do anything to convince him to come. Even fight him. Tie him up. Anything to drag him to your son's party. You'd probably do it, mother bear that you are.

But you don't need to do that. You won't ever have to fight another battle. Not if he can help it. Simon will fight your battles for you from now on.

"I'll come."

You have his devotion. You and your boy.

"Really?" You brighten up, the hopeless look in your eyes washing away.

He nods. "I'll bring a mate with some brats around your lad's age. They're friendly. They'll like him."

"Will they? Are you sure your friend will be okay with it?"

"They will, and the bastard owes me one, anyway."

No, he doesn't, but Johnny will pull through. Him and his seemingly endless amount of nieces and nephews, although he'll only need to bring a few.

A wide smile breaks out on your face, bright like the sun, and oh- that's where your boy got his grin. Without warning, you leap into his arms, forceful enough to make him grunt. You hug him, burying your face into his shoulder with Simon's hands hovering at your waist, fingers twitching.

It's rare to catch him off guard. So many new sensations fill his senses. Your warmth, surrounding him like a blanket; your scent, sweet and calming with a freshness to it that makes him want to bury his face into your neck and inhale. Or maybe he would bite into your soft skin to see if you taste as pleasant as you smell. If he wasn't so controlled, he probably would sate his curiosity right now.

You stiffen, your body tensing as if you're aware of what you've done, and move to back away, but Simon stops you, resting his hands on your hips. You gently melt your body against his again.

"Thank you, Simon," You softly murmur into his shoulder. It's a quiet sound, but he hears it and lets his arms wrap you in a full hug. You melt against his body, sighing. He doesn't think he's ever felt so warm before. "And just so you know... it means a lot to me, too, that you're coming."

-

Simon: > Johnny

Johnny: > Yeah, lt?

Simon: > You busy tomorrow?

Johnny: > Yes? > I have a date with that bonnie piano teacher I told you about > ... why

Simon: > Cancel it > Have something I need you to do

Johnny: > Work related?

Simon: > No

Johnny: > Then why can't you do it?

Simon: > I'm already on it > Cancel your date

Johnny: > Then why do you need me? > I'm not gonna cancel my date you dobber

-

"Cannae believe ye made us come all the way to fuckin' Manchester. Do y'know how many fuckin' hours ye made us drive, Ghost? The wee ones didnae like gettin' up so arse fuckin' early, either-"

"Shut up, Johnny. You owed me one."

"I didnae?!"

A giggle from Soap's bonnie piano teacher. "You're accent thickens when you're upset, John."

"Today was supposed to be our date!"

"It's not so bad. I still get to spend time with you."

"... Guess not, but I'll take you out proper tomorrow, promise."

"See, Johnny? Everyone wins."

"Awa’ an bile yer heid, Ghost."

-

Despite all his complaining, Johnny is a good guest and keeps the children entertained, playing the part of the fun uncle by letting the kids wrestle or play tag with him, not minding the grass stains as they roughhouse in the park. Currently, he's playing an informal football game with them—six vs. one. He's mostly blocking the ball from entering the goal, but it's still fun for all of them.

Little Simon is extra happy with his new friends. He's been smiling nonstop since they all introduced themselves, grin extra proud when he revealed his name.

("Like Uncle Simon's?"

"Yeah, he says it's a fine name!")

You also haven't stopped smiling ever since they arrived. Not quite as big as your boy's grin, but it still hasn't left. You and Soap's date get along swimmingly, too. He can already tell you'll be good friends with the teacher.

"Not gonna join them?"

Simon looks to see you standing next to him under the tree, watching the children as Soap 'misses' a shot from one of his nephews.

"Where's your friend?" He asks instead.

"Went looking for a bathroom." You gesture vaguely in the direction Soap's date disappeared off to. "So, not gonna play?"

He shakes his head. "Johnny's got it."

"Oh?" The suspiciously innocuous tone makes his eyes narrow. "Is it because he's the better footballer between you two?"

Simon slowly turns towards you, glaring with no real heat, but it still doesn't stop your panicked giggle when he takes a half step in your direction, making you back up against the tree. He gets closer and leans into your space, nearly brushing his front against yours. You audibly gulp, and Simon places a palm on the tree, hand right next to your head. He gets close to your face, watching your eyes widen then dart down to look at somewhere on the bottom half of his face before meeting his eyes again. You bite your lip.

"Repeat that for me, sweetheart." Simon growls softly, and you give a sharp, little inhale.

"U-um. I'd rather... not." Your voice comes out breathy, and you place a hand on his chest as if to stabilize yourself.

"I wasn't asking." He doesn't give you a chance to breathe, leaning in closer, and your fingers dig a little into his pec, making his muscles flex under your touch. "I'll say again: repeat that for me."

With nowhere to run, pinned to a tree, you tremble against his body, breathing heavily and barely able to meet his eyes, licking your lips. It takes you a moment to build up the nerve to speak with Simon surrounding your senses.

"I um... I um-"

"Simon, Uncle Johnny said to come play with us!"

Instantly, he backs away from you and turns around to see your boy running over. Behind him, he hears you exhale a quiet, little, "Fuck..."

Fuck, indeed.

He turns his attention to the lad once he comes to a stop in front of him. "Is that what he said?"

"Uh-huh! He said we're giving him trouble, and it'll make it more fair so he's not the only one guarding."

Simon looks over to where Johnny stands with the football held casually to the side between his arm and waist. The man smirks knowingly, glancing between you and Simon before giving a cheeky wave. He glares back. "I'll show him trouble."

"What did you say, Simon?"

He looks back at your boy. "Nothing. I'll come play."

The lad's eyes brighten with a celebratory cheer, grabbing his wrist and leading the way to the field. Simon looks back to see you better composed, if a little disheveled, but smiling nonetheless at the two like they're the only ones who matter.

-

After cake and presents, the children return to playing football with the new football that Soap gave as a present for little Simon, along with your boy wearing a jersey from the Scot's favorite team. A petty move from Soap, in Simon's opinion, but he'll let him have this one. He'll get your boy cheering for Man United soon enough.

The adults hang back in their own pairs. Soap and his date finally getting a moment to themselves, nibbling on cake and talking about whatever it is they talk about at the picnic table, and you and Simon are back under the tree, keeping a respectable distance between each other.

"Kid seems happy," Simon idly notes, watching your boy laugh and play with the younger MacTavish's. "You did good."

"Me?" You glance at him. "You were the one to bring a tiny tribe to Simon's birthday. Look at him. That smile is because of you."

"That smile is because you're a good mum," Simon states in a way that leaves no room for questions. "You were the one who made today happen. You gave your lad the birthday he deserved. He'll remember this."

Like how Simon remembers his mum doing her best to give him and Tommy the birthdays they deserved, no matter how small the celebration was.

You're looking at him as if you can't quite believe he's real, a cute, astonished look adorning your face. He's tempted to make a comment about it until you give a quiet, amazed laugh, reaching for his hand to give it a grateful squeeze. You don't pull away, and he doesn't let go.

"Even so, Simon had a great seventh birthday, and a lot of it is because of you. You did more than you had to- more than his father ever did! Bastard didn't even send a happy birthday text, son of a bitch." You exhale a heavy, calming breath. "But never mind that... What I'm trying to say is thank you. You didn't have to do what you did, and ever since we met, you've been really good to him."

You shoot him a teasing look. "What's your secret? Have a hidden family out there or something?"

A darker part of Simon is tempted to laugh. You're kind of right, in a messed up way, but he doesn't hold it against you. He hums, contemplating. "I had a nephew."

"Had?" The information takes another second to process. "Oh! I mean..."

"Don't have to say anything." Simon stares out to where the kids are playing. He imagines another boy running among them. Both younger and older than the children out in the field. Taken too young with no opportunity to grow. To live. He squeezes your hand. "He reminds me of him. Joseph. Would have been a couple years older than your lad by now, but I think they would have gotten along."

"Think so?" You send him a soft smile, stepping closer to hug his arm. "Tell me more about him?"

Simon looks at you, the warmth of your body pressed against him, and it suddenly feels like there's no one else in the world. There's just you and him under this tree, with your boy's laughter ringing like bells in the air, and that's when it hits.

Settle down... He's finally starting to get it, Tommy.

-

soap's piano teacher is something i want to write out, but idk if i'll get to it

[cheriladycl01]

Down Under - Daniel Riccardo x Reader SMUT

Plot: Daniel had always dreamed of the day seeing his wife in a pretty wedding dress, but not for the reasons most would think.

Warnings: eating out, oral (fem receiving), 18+ minors dni

Here you were walking down the isle in your large white wedding dress looking down where your husband stood with his best man and fellow groomsmen. He hadn't noticed you yet where he was talking to his best man Lando. Max, one of his groomsmen nudged him, shurgging his head over to you. His eyes met yours just as the music started playing for you to walk down the isle too.

Tears brim his eyes, he'd always seen you as the most beautiful girl in the world, but today you were etheral and he wanted to burn this image of you into his mind and keep it there forever.

You make your way down the isle, holding your dad's arm who also has tears in his eyes. All thats on your face is a huge grin, excited to be Mrs Ricciardo after this. You loved Daniel with all your heart and being able to share a last name with him was special to you.

"You're the only man i trust with her Daniel, i hope you know that. Look after my baby" you father says, before placing a kiss on the side of your head. Daniel smiles at your father a solid not to him.

"Always sir" Daniel says, before glancing over you seeing just how magnetic you looked up close.

You guys shared your vows, you had both done very meaningful vows for your actual wedding that you'd more than likely repreat in 10 years, then 20 and 30. You would save the laughter for at the after party where the maid of honor and best man, and some family members would to also say some words for the pair of you.

"You may now kiss the bride" the officiator says and you shake your head.

"Nope, i may now kiss the groom!" you grin and cup Daniels face pulling him down and in for a kiss. It's lasts for a while until you feel Daniel's grin widen.

"Nope, i'll listen to him" Daniel grins, pulling away and dipping you into the typical bride kiss. Your both giggling against one another as you do, the crowd below cheering and whooping.

"Come with me" he whispers in your ear, gripping your hand.

"Alright folks, if you all head into the barn i'm going to get Mrs Riccardo into something a little more ... breathable and then we'll see you out for the after party!" he grins, before taking your hand and walking you away. Everyone starts to leave while Daniel walks you into the chalet you guys had rented.

Before you know it, the minute you guys get into the home you were hoisted up onto the nearest counter, your large puffy dress bunching up around your hips. Your in fits of giggles as Daniel tries to work out how to step in between your legs but is sort of restricted.

"Daniel what are you doing!" you laugh looking at him.

"Need you so bad, wanna fuck you for the first time as my wife" he grins with that cheeky look in his eyes.

"What?" you burst out laughing.

"Please, need you" he groand trying to bunch up your dress around you.

"We dont have time!" you laugh, holding him at bay by his chest.

"Just, just a quick little taste. I'll be so quick" he says, sliding his hands down before getting on his knees.

"Daniel!" you gasp at the crudeness. But before you know it he's under all layers of your dress, teasing a finger up your thigh touching the garter of your white lingerie. He plays with the fabric before flicking it against your skin making you gasp. You feel his nose, and the bump run up along the silk covering you.

"Danny" you gasp, moving your hips forward and wrapping your legs around him, resting them on his back and shoulders.

He doesn't say a word, not that you'd hear it muffled under the ruffles and multiple layers of your dress, but you feel your panties pulled to the side and his wet tongue tease you.

His nose gives the perfect amount of pressure on your clit a moan coming from you. You would normally have a hand pulling at the curls of the hair, but with no access to it they gripped the edge of the counter.

"Oh fuck, please" you moan feeling the way he's moving against you stimulating every place that possibly needs it. You can feel his nose pressing agaisnt you. Your hips jut against his face and your can finally hear some slurps that he's making as you rock agaisnt his face.

You feel the coil build in your stomach as Daniel's licks are relentless against you.

"Omg please please please" you cry out your knuckles white from the grip on the table. Daniel's finger enters, his tounge moving to play with your clit, gasps coming from you and your head drops back.

He reaches a certain part of your spongey walls that makes your lurch forward grabbing his head through your dress with as gasp as your legs tighten round his head and start to shake.

"Omg" you gasp as he helps you through your orgasm. He ruffles up, finding his way out of the big puffy dress and the sight before you once his head pops up is one you would be happy getting all to familiar with.

He was there, your juices covering his chin and his curls messier, face flushed red from the heat.

"Been waiting to do that for years" he sighs, leaning his head against your thigh.

"Years? You've been dreaming of marrying me for years for the sole purpose of what? Eating me out in my wedding dress?" you laugh out loud looking down at him.

"Right, lets get you out this dress now" he says, avoiding the question while helping you up despite the wobbly legs and heels combo that isnt helping. You couldn't help but giggle as he carries you up the stairs to the master bedroom where your body-con white dress was laid out by your maid of honor.

Daniel helps you take off the dress and just looks at you in your underwear.

"Gods, i cant believe this is what i get to see for the rest of my life" he says, running his hands along your waist. He helps you get into the dress despite his wish to ravish you on the bed behind the pair of you, but knows that people are waiting to celebrate the newly weds.

"Every day" you grin holding the side of his face before he pulls you into a kiss.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ryescapades-archived]

Hi rye congrats on 1k! Can i have slice one with togame jo (windbreaker), nsfw prompt no 18? Tq in advance 💘

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 18 - “you’re such a mess.” characters: togame jo (wbk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! unprotected p in v, implied multiple orgasms, slight manhandling, tummy bulge, creampie, a bit of size kink, some pussy inspecting? mention of cum eating, petnames (baby & sweetheart), reader is physically smaller wc ~ 700

a/n: thank you sm for participating anon! <3 finally got around to start writing my event requests TwT as i’ve said before, updates are gonna be super slow bcs uni is still kicking my ass so take note of that !! first time writing for togame btw erm

“c’mon, y/n. you’re still with me?”

glassy-eyed and lightheaded, you feel the room spins as if in slow motion. literally and figuratively.

one second you were on your knees and cheek pressed onto the sheets, and the next your view suddenly changed to that of the ceiling. a pair of hands slides up from your waist to cradle your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the apple of your cheeks.

togame leans in, connecting your foreheads together before he gives you a small kiss. your lips easily meld together as you hum against him, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

his emerald gaze, his lips, his hands. everything about them feels delicate whenever they fall on you, as gentle as the leaves rustling in the wind, and soft in the way his warmth envelopes you like a pile of heated blankets on a cold winter night.

you’d almost cried at how wholesome his attention is, and how fulfilling his love is becoming. almost, if not for the way his hips rolls so hard into you that you’re starting to sob for an entirely different reason.

togame is by no means average-sized. barely halfway in and he’s already stretching you to the max, pressing in so deeply and ever so slightly in a tilted way that his cock curves perfectly upwards inside your sopping cunt. every single inch of him hits all the sweet spots inside you just right, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as wanton moans escape from your mouth.

he eventually sets a rapid pace, his movement fluid and steady as the blunt tip of his cock starts to repeatedly hit the deepest part of your core. “that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he purrs in your ear, causing you to whine in response.

“f-fuck, ‘s so big,” you clench around his generous length as wet squelching sounds of your pussy echo in the room, skin slapping against skin as your cries and his grunts stringing together like a dirty symphony.

togame slips a hand behind your neck then, pulling you up for another kiss before he holds you there, heads leaning against each other to make you notice, to make you see what he’s doing to you.

you don’t realize it at first, too lost in the feeling of his cock dragging oh so deliciously in between your velvety walls. but when you finally get a good look at it, you’d nearly come right on the spot.

there’s a thick creamy ring around the base of his cock, courtesy of the previous rounds you’d had and how much he’d been cumming inside you, and when he drives himself home again inside your wet heat with that same crazy depth, same crazy angle, your stomach bulges with every thrust.

“shh, just feel me here, sweetheart,” he coos before his hand grabs one of yours, dwarfing it entirely before settling them both together on your lower belly, right where his thick cock continues to make that little bump on the skin.

it makes you dizzy, so freaking turned on and almost delirious at the sight as togame slams deeper into you. “jo… g-gonna cum - fuck,” tears blur your vision, your whimpers growing louder by the second when his other hand grips tighter on the back of your thigh.

“yeah? you like feeling yourself when you’re getting fucked like this, hm?” he presses down harder on your stomach with just the right amount of pressure and before you know it you’re already cumming so hard, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his dick as your breath gets knocked out of your lungs in a broken cry of his name.

he follows behind soon after, reaching his peak with a low groan of his own as you heavily pant from the exertion. running a hand through his sweaty onyx strands, togame briefly glances down at where the two of you are still connected and gradually pulls out, ignoring your slurred complaints about the sudden loss of warmth.

he curses under his breath, “fuck, baby. you’re such a mess.”

you’re sweating all over, hair disheveled on the pillow beneath your head as pearls of tears line the lashes of your eyes. his cum and yours fill your tight hole to the brim, the mixed liquids leaking past your pussy lips and trickling down your inner thigh when togame hooks a thumb on the side of your wet folds.

he inhales sharply, eyes focusing on the obscene view before he looks back at your fucked out expression with that heavily lidded gaze again.

“mind if i have a taste?”

am i starting off too strong with this one 🧍 anw ‘big dick togame🗣️’ the crowd (me) cheers

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

your husband nanami never really had much to look forward to in his life rather than making enough money to retire and relax, until you came along. he has never failed to make you happy. you were his number one priority. the reason he worked such excruciating hours. all of pain and suffering that went into the money he made meant nothing if he couldn't spend every single penny towards your happiness. I mean the saying is 'happy wife happy life,' right?

except you've noticed how drained of life your husband was chasing money all the time, he would constantly come home exhausted from working over time. you would often find yourself massaging his tense shoulders while he's drifting off in your lap, still dressed in his work clothes. you began baking pastries and other sweets for him while at home because you felt bad for all the work he had been putting himself through,

"sweetheart, these are delicious, where did you learn how to bake like this?" his usual tired and monotone voice was gone, it was replaced with the slightest amount of shock and delight.

"ken I appreciate you being sweet, but it was my first time making it so its okay to tell me if its bad." you smiled up at him.

"my love what makes you think im just being sweet? this is amazing."

from there on out nanami would always compliment your baking exceedingly, getting on his knees in front of you right as he walked through the door and the smell of freshly baked buttery sweet bread hit him.

it still hurt your heart to see him so exhausted all the time. so you had the idea to take on a job at a bakery, your interview went well and the manager loved the sample pastry that you made, he gave you the job and the pay wasn't too bad. you were so excited to tell your husband about your new job when he came home because it meant that he wouldn't have to put so much strain on himself anymore and he could relax.

little did you know that it would lead to a small argument, where kento was being the stubborn one, for once.

"love I just don't understand, am I not doing enough?" he placed a hand on your hip and one on your cheek, his eye brows pushed together in confusion.

"ken you don't get it. youre doing TOO much." you grabbed his hand from your face and held it in yours. "you need a break. plus it would be good for me to get out of the house, I can't stand being at home and doing nothing knowing that you can barely get a full night of rest."

"that's not something you need to worry about-"

"ken."

"hm?"

"youre being stubborn. just let me try for a little while, and you can see what its like to have a break hm? if you REALLY don't like it, then ill quit okay?"

"do you really think that you need to take on a job dear? I-"

"kento."

"okay. but if you really don't like it then just tell-" you cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips. you knew how much your husband hated working, but you also knew he was too stubborn to ask for help.

months had passed and its safe to say that your deal worked out as you and your husband were walking back from the beach during your week long vacation in Malaysia in celebration of your anniversary.

"ken look how pretty that orchid is!" you pointed high up into a tree at a beautiful fully bloomed white orchid that had hints of yellow and pink in the middle.

"hm." was all he replied with a small smile. I reached up and easily picked the flower due to his tall frame, he placed the flower behind your ear and admired it.

"looks even prettier now." he said as he gently cupped your face and pulled you in slowly for a kiss.

now every year on your anniversary without fail, your husband buys you the same exact white orchids with a hint of yellow and pink in the middle imported from Malaysia just to see your face light up all over again.

guess the saying was true.

a/n: this is not proofread and im aware this is ass but does it look igaf...