#maybe things will fix themselves and go back to normal

[shesgaymichaelscott]

heyyo! saw that youre taking requests so i decided to give it a try. what about...

melissa vehemently insisting that she doesnt have feelings for the new math teacher, who usually keeps to themselves and exudes a calm, nonchalant demeanor so no one really minds their quiet presence and is cool with all the staff and students alike. it's not until the new teacher pops into the break room or is close by does melissa do a complete 180, saying subtly flirty compliments and going the extra mile to help them out when she sees them struggling with something and sharing some of her food insisting that she "overpacked" even tho she had prepared two tupperwares of the dish.

ending is completely up to you.

completely fine if this doesn't catch your interest. thought i'd give it a shot. can't wait to read more of your amazing work!!

Denial Runs Deep

Word Count: 3.8k

(fluff, flirting, and flustered/nervous melissa ☺️)

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs @myownworriedshoes

~

The new math teacher at Abbott Elementary didn't make much of an entrance—no dramatic backstory, no clunky cart full of broken calculators, no awkward icebreaker speech in the auditorium. Just a quiet start on a Monday in January, sliding seamlessly into the rhythm of the school with a calm, collected energy that somehow made even seventh-grade fractions feel less like a nightmare and more like a gentle puzzle.

You were... cool. Effortlessly so. A little aloof, sure, but never cold. 

You gave off the kind of serene confidence that made the other teachers instinctively lower their shoulders when you entered a room. Students respected you because you didn't demand it—you just had it. Always in slacks or jeans with your sleeves pushed up, an ever-so-slightly crooked smile when a kid made a joke that actually landed. You never raised your voice, but somehow everyone still listened when you spoke.

And the rest of the staff? Yeah, they adored you.

Jacob cornered you for crossword clues between classes. 

Janine bounced next to you like an excitable golden retriever every lunch period, unpacking her latest dramatic classroom story as you listened with a bemused smile and the occasional deadpan, "Did he really throw the pencil into the ceiling tile, or are you exaggerating again?" 

You called Barbara Mrs. Howard with reverence, and when she gave you a rare warm chuckle and patted your arm, you took it like a blessing from the Pope. 

Even Ava liked you, though she pretended not to, loudly calling you "Calculators McChill" in the hallway while watching you from the corner of her eye like she couldn't quite believe you were real.

But Melissa?

Melissa Schemmenti was an entirely different story.

The first time you walked into the break room, just looking for coffee, she short-circuited.

It wasn't obvious at first. Not to anyone but Barbara, maybe. Melissa was still Melissa—snarky, sharp, confident, the kind of woman who could cut someone down with a single arched brow. But the second you leaned against the counter, asking if the machine was always this slow, something shifted.

"Oh," Melissa said, looking up from her phone like she'd been caught doing something illegal. "Yeah, it's a piece of crap. I've been meaning to fix it myself, but y'know, union rules." She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "You want me to make you one? I got a little stovetop espresso thing in my classroom. Italian style."

You blinked, surprised but amused. "That's... incredibly kind. Thanks, but I'm good."

She smiled like you'd just kicked her dog. "Right, yeah. No worries. Offer's open."

And from there? It only got worse.

Melissa Schemmenti, who once told Jacob to "tough it out" when he had strep, suddenly became the patron saint of small favors—if you were involved. You mentioned struggling to open a jammed drawer in your classroom? She was there five minutes later with a crowbar and a smug grin.

"Can't have you breaking a nail over some busted district furniture," she said, like it was a normal thing to say. 

Like she hadn't just sprinted across the building with a literal crowbar she'd pulled from god-knows-where. 

She popped the drawer open with a single, practiced jerk and looked way too proud of herself. 

"Easy."

You blinked at her, eyebrows lifting. "Do you... just carry that around?"

"No," she said, too quickly. "I mean—yes. Sometimes. Not always. Just when—listen, do you want me to fix the filing cabinet too or not?"

You smirked. "Melissa, I didn't even say anything about the filing cabinet."

She flushed. "Right. I just assumed."

Over the next few weeks, the pattern only got weirder. You weren't dense—just observant in a way most people weren't used to. And Melissa? She was hard to ignore.

She hovered. Not in a creepy way. Not in a loud way. Just... present. More than she needed to be. 

She started showing up outside your door during dismissal to "borrow tape," which she always forgot to take. She cut you in line at the copier just to lean in and murmur something like, "You math people always get the front of lines. You've got the angles." And then she'd wink—wink—and saunter away like she hadn't just made the worst pun of 2025.

It was kind of... endearing. Infuriating. Funny.

You couldn't decide which.

And the flirty comments? God. She was getting brazen.

"You should come by my room sometime," she said one Thursday afternoon, casually leaning against your desk while you cleaned up after a test. "I could show you how I organize all my student data. You know. If you're into... charts."

You stared at her, one brow slowly rising.

"I'm really good with graphs," she added, then seemed to realize what she'd said and immediately turned away, pretending to cough. "Line graphs. Pie charts. Bar... ones."

You leaned back in your chair. "Is this a math joke or a pickup line?"

She didn't answer. Just muttered something about "needing to laminate things" and practically ran out of the room.

That night at happy hour, Melissa was already halfway through a whiskey when Janine brought you up.

"You like her," Janine sing-songed. "Don't lie."

"I do not," Melissa shot back. "I'm just being polite. Unlike some people in this school, I support my coworkers."

"You support her by blushing every time she asks you to pass the whiteboard markers?"

Jacob leaned in dramatically. "Melissa. You accidentally called her babe last week."

"It was baby, actually," Ava corrected, sipping her margarita without looking up from her phone. "Which is worse."

Melissa slapped her palm against the table. "It was the end of the day! I was tired! I'd just eaten a suspicious hoagie!"

Janine wheezed. "Suspicious hoagies don't make you call someone baby, Melissa."

Barbara, seated primly at the end of the table, just sipped her wine and said, "It's always the calm ones."

And you? Oblivious—or so they thought.

The truth was, you'd noticed. You noticed the way her voice softened around you, like a cigarette after a storm. You noticed the way her hands lingered just a second longer when she passed you things. The not-so-subtle glances. The way she always sat next to you at staff meetings, leaning in too close under the excuse of "can't hear Gregory's mumbling from over there."

And you weren't doing anything about it.

Yet.

Because the thing was... you kind of liked watching her unravel. Just a little. The woman who could stare down a contractor into fixing three busted heaters with a wrench and a threat—blushing because you complimented her handwriting on a hall pass?

Yeah.

You could let this slow burn.

For now.

⸻

It started the way most of your days ended lately—with Melissa showing up outside your classroom door, shoulder propped against the frame like she hadn't been waiting there for the last ten minutes.

"You're walking out alone?" she asked casually, like this wasn't the fourth time this week she'd asked the same thing. "Y'know, parking lot gets dark early this time of year. Could be some creep lurking by the dumpsters."

You arched a brow, locking your classroom behind you. "You mean Ava? She's usually just vaping behind the bushes."

Melissa chuckled low in her throat, the sound rough and warm. "Exactly. Dangerous."

So she walked you out. The sky had turned that soft, peachy color, the kind that made the school look almost magical if you squinted past the cracked concrete and the noise of the dismissal buses still echoing down the street.

You didn't speak much. Melissa walked close, hands shoved into her coat pockets, eyes scanning the lot like she was on guard duty. 

You'd grown used to her company like this—quiet, a little awkward, but comforting in a strange way. Protective. Gentle in a way you could tell she didn't show often.

When you reached your car, you clicked the unlock button but didn't open the door. You turned, leaning lightly against the driver's side with your arms crossed.

"You always this chivalrous?" you asked, gaze light, teasing.

Melissa looked at you, blinking like she'd just realized where she was. "What?"

You tilted your head, letting a smile curl up at the corner of your mouth. "Walking me to my car. Offering coffee. Packing me lunch. Kinda seems like you've got a little crush."

Melissa opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then made a small, high-pitched huh noise you'd never heard from her in your life.

You leaned in just a touch, enough to make her shoulders stiffen. "Unless this is just your standard coworker protocol?"

Her face turned red. Like full-on firetruck, tomato, sunburn-in-February red. She sputtered. Sputtered. Hands flailing slightly as she tried to get her mouth to work.

"I don't—I mean—it's not a—crush, I just—I'm just being polite! Friendly! Courteous! Like—Jesus, I'm not trying to flirt, I—"

You just smiled, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

"Goodnight, Melissa," you said sweetly, slipping into your car before she could recover.

She stood there, staring after you like you'd slapped her across the face with a math textbook.

⸻

The next week, it truly began.

When you arrived at school, there was a Tupperware container on your desk. A perfect portion of baked ziti, still warm. Nestled beside it? A small handwritten note:

"Overdid it last night. Take it or I'll be offended. —M."

It continued for the rest of the week.

Tuesday: Eggplant parm with fresh basil and a mini cannoli. "Made too much again. Weird how that keeps happening, huh?"

Wednesday: Homemade soup with crusty bread wrapped in foil. "Figured you forgot to eat breakfast. Don't let your blood sugar crash, Mathlete."

Thursday: Chicken cutlets and a container of caponata with your name on the lid. "Totally normal coworker lunch. Don't read into it."

Jacob, naturally, read into it.

At lunch, he leaned across the table, whispering like it was a state secret. "You're being courted. This is full-blown Schemmenti courtship behavior. You're like two biscotti away from a proposal."

Janine gasped dramatically. "Do you think she's gonna bake for you next? That's like... the holy grail."

"She brought me a single stale pretzel when I got food poisoning," Jacob muttered. "But you? That soup had herbs."

Barbara just hummed with the quiet wisdom of someone who'd seen this coming miles away. "Melissa only cooks like that for family. Or... someone she wants to be family."

Ava, as always, had the final word. She slid into the lounge, sunglasses still on, and held up a container she'd swiped from the fridge.

"Found her name on this," she said, pointing at the label. "Melissa Schemmenti. But guess what it says under it? 'Not for Ava. Not for Janine. Definitely not for Jacob. If you touch this and your name isn't Math, I will end you.'"

You raised your eyebrows. "Math?"

Ava smirked. "Guess that's your new nickname."

And Melissa?

Melissa walked in ten seconds later, saw the container in your hands, and tripped over nothing.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, cheeks already pink as she rushed to your side. "Don't let Ava near that, she doesn't understand the value of flavor."

You smiled. "You packed my lunch again."

She huffed. "Yeah, well. I overcooked. It happens."

"Four days in a row?"

Melissa stared you down, lips twitching. "You want me to stop?"

You paused. Then—"No."

Her expression faltered for half a second, like she wasn't expecting that. Then she nodded stiffly, like she had to physically lock herself in place so she didn't smile too hard.

"Good," she said, like it wasn't the highlight of her week.

The rain that day had started around noon.

It came in fast—thick, sideways sheets that hammered against the old windows of Abbott like the sky had a personal vendetta. Lightning cracked once, close enough to shake the floors, and somewhere down the hall, a kid screamed and then claimed it was on purpose.

The building went dim. Not dark, but dim enough for the emergency lights to flicker on, casting everything in this weird, bluish haze. Janine's voice echoed faintly down the corridor—"It's just rain! Nobody panic!"—followed by a crash, a yelp, and a suspiciously Ava-shaped cackle.

You were at your desk, calmly grading quizzes by the glow of your desk lamp when Melissa appeared in the doorway, looking like she'd been tossed into the storm herself. Her red hair was half-damp, her jacket spotted with rain, and her expression was somewhere between murderous and mildly electrocuted.

"They shut the front entrance," she announced, storming in without waiting for an invitation. "Some kid tried to ride his scooter through the lobby. Nearly broke Janine's ankle."

You looked up. "Was she—?"

"Fine," she muttered, tossing her soaked jacket over the back of a chair. "Traumatized, but fine."

You leaned back in your chair, arms folded. "And you came all the way across the building to tell me this because...?"

Melissa hesitated.

She blinked. Shrugged one shoulder like she was trying very hard to look casual. "Storm's bad. Figured I'd make sure you weren't trapped under a filing cabinet or something. You know, basic coworker safety protocols."

You smiled slowly. "You check on all your coworkers during storms?"

"Just the important ones," she muttered—and then froze like she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Outside, thunder rolled low and lazy across the sky. Inside, the silence felt heavy and soft.

Melissa cleared her throat and crossed to your desk, gesturing to the pile of papers. "So, uh... whatcha workin' on?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You want to help me grade?"

"No," she said immediately. "God, no. I just—I thought maybe you'd want some company, or a snack, or—" She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a granola bar. "Here. I brought this. It's peanut butter. I remembered you like peanut butter."

You blinked. "How do you—"

"Jacob mentioned it once. In passing. I retain information. Like an elephant."

You took the granola bar. Your fingers brushed hers.

Melissa's ears turned pink.

She looked away so fast it gave you whiplash.

"Anyway," she said, backing toward the door, "I should, uh, go check on the cafeteria. Make sure no one's looting the chocolate milk stash."

She bumped into the doorframe on the way out.

An hour later, Melissa was walking past the teacher's lounge when she heard your voice. And then—Janine's. And Jacob's.

She could've kept walking. She should've kept walking.

Instead, she slowed to a crawl.

She stood just outside the doorway, pretending to read a poster on the wall that had been up since 2013. Something about flu season and elbow sneezing.

Inside, your voice floated out, light and amused. "I think we're gonna hit that bookstore on South Street—maybe grab dinner after, depending on how late it gets."

"Oh!" Janine gasped. "With a friend?"

There was a beat.

You hesitated. "Yeah. A friend."

Jacob made a noise that could only be described as an attempted gasp followed by a wheeze. "Is it a friend or a friend-friend?"

Melissa stared at the poster so hard her eyes started to blur. She couldn't hear your answer—Janine had squealed too loud—but she heard laughter. Your laughter. Warm and soft and private.

And it made something in Melissa's stomach twist.

She forced herself to keep walking, past the door, past Ava sitting on a beanbag outside her office scrolling through TikTok.

Ava didn't even look up. "Don't worry, Schemmenti. If it's a date, they'll be bored in ten minutes. You're still in the lead."

Melissa stopped, turned, and glared.

"I wasn't eavesdropping."

Ava just grinned. "Sure, babe. And I'm not looking at videos of hot accountants."

Melissa didn't respond. Just marched off down the hallway, muttering something about bookstores being overrated anyway.

But that night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying your laugh over and over like a record needle stuck in the same groove.

And the next morning, Melissa arrived at Abbott early.

Too early.

The kind of early that made Barbara squint at her from across the office and say, "Okay, either you're sleepwalking or you murdered someone and need an alibi."

Melissa ignored her. She was already mid-spiral.

She paced the halls with a cup of too-hot coffee clutched in her hands like it was keeping her tethered to earth. Every now and then, she passed your classroom and paused just short of the door, debating whether or not to go in under the pretense of... what? Sharing printer paper?

She ended up just muttering something under her breath and stalking away like the hall itself had offended her.

She was pacing again by the time she reached the lounge.

Jacob looked up from his yogurt and immediately perked. "Oh no. You've got that look again."

"What look?" she snapped, even though she knew exactly what look.

Janine gasped, mid-sip of her smoothie. "The flustered romantic sitcom lead look! You always do that tight-mouth pacing thing when you're trying not to think about them."

Melissa froze. "Them who?"

Jacob grinned. "The cool math teacher you're in love with."

"I'm not—!" Melissa started, then groaned and scrubbed a hand down her face. "I don't even know if she was on a date last night."

Barbara looked up from her tea, calm and knowing as ever. "You could ask."

"I can't ask," Melissa hissed. "Because then she'll know I was thinking about it."

Janine tilted her head. "Sweetie. She already knows."

"She doesn't," Melissa insisted, then added, quieter, "...does she?"

Barbara gave her a look so full of maternal disappointment it almost made her sit down.

Jacob patted her on the arm. "It's time, Schemmenti. Admit it. Out loud. Say the words: I like her."

Melissa stared at him like he'd asked her to strip naked and sing the national anthem in the cafeteria.

Janine leaned forward. "Just say it. You'll feel better."

There was a long pause.

Melissa inhaled.

"I—"

The door creaked open behind her.

Your voice, amused: "You what?"

Melissa jumped like you'd tasered her.

She whirled around so fast she nearly spilled her coffee, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing without sound. "I—I was just saying I—I like..." Her eyes darted to the table. "...Jacob's shirt. Very... paisley."

Jacob beamed. "It's called botanical print."

You bit back a grin. "Very bold of you, Melissa."

Her ears turned red again.

You sauntered further into the lounge, dropping your bag by the counter. "So," you said casually, not looking at her as you poured yourself a coffee, "anyone want to ask me how my night was?"

Melissa tried to play it cool. Leaned against the table with a tight shrug, pretending not to care while her thumb nervously tapped against her cup. "Oh, you, uh... go out? Looked like rain."

You tilted your head toward her, eyes glinting. "Didn't end up going out, actually."

Melissa's posture straightened just slightly. "No?"

You shook your head. "Stayed home. Opened a bottle of wine. Watched some terrible cooking competition show."

Melissa swallowed. "Alone?"

You smiled, slow and wicked. "Why? Jealous?"

She choked on her coffee. Jacob wheezed. Janine actually squealed.

Melissa coughed, cleared her throat, glared at the refrigerator for moral support. "Just... making conversation."

You nodded, stepping closer, holding her gaze now. "Well. I did have an extra bottle I didn't open. Thought maybe... you'd want to help me with it tonight."

Melissa blinked.

Stared.

Her voice came out a little hoarse. "Tonight?"

"Unless you're busy," you said, with a slight shrug. "I know you've got a full schedule of pretending not to like me and stalking me in the halls—"

"I don't—!"

You grinned. "Kidding."

She looked like she might actually melt into the linoleum.

Then, slowly, she exhaled, chin lifting. "Alright. I'll come over."

You raised a brow. "Yeah?"

She tried for her usual smirk. It came out shaky but determined. "Only because I hate the idea of good wine going to waste."

Janine whispered to Jacob, "We are so taking credit for this."

Barbara sipped her tea with the grace of a prophet watching her predictions come true.

And Melissa?

Melissa didn't stop smiling the whole rest of the day.

⸻

The wine was good.

Really good, actually—but Melissa wouldn't have been able to tell you a single note of flavor if her life depended on it.

She was sitting on your couch, perched on the edge like she might have to sprint out the door at any second, gripping her glass with both hands like she was worried it might spontaneously combust. 

You, meanwhile, were sunk comfortably into the cushions, one leg curled beneath you, your glass dangling lazily in one hand as you sipped and smiled like this was normal.

Which—it should have been. Two coworkers. Sharing wine. Casual.

Except nothing about it felt casual to Melissa, because you looked too good in soft lamplight and your voice was too warm when you laughed and your leg had been brushing hers off and on for the past ten minutes and Melissa Schemmenti was hanging on by an emotional thread.

You leaned a little closer, tilting your head. "So... you always this jittery when someone invites you over, or is this a me-specific thing?"

Melissa coughed. Choked slightly. Recovered with a bark of laughter that sounded suspiciously like a panic response.

"Jittery?" she repeated. "Me? Pffft. No. I just—uh—haven't sat on a couch this soft in a while. Throws off the spine."

You gave her a look, then took another slow sip of wine. "Interesting. Because you looked pretty relaxed last week when Ava dared you to throw a dodgeball at Jacob's head."

Melissa muttered something about "muscle memory" and drank deeply.

You smiled again. This time, you let your knee press more deliberately into hers.

She went rigid.

You didn't move away.

Instead, your fingers trailed along the seam of your wine glass as you said, "You're kind of cute when you're nervous, you know."

Her head snapped toward you.

Her voice pitched a little too high. "I'm not—!"

You reached out and gently touched her hand, fingers brushing lightly across hers where she clutched the stem of her glass. Her breath hitched.

She dropped her gaze to where your hands met but said nothing.

For one long moment, the only sound was the quiet jazz playing from your Bluetooth speaker and the rain still tapping against the window.

Then Melissa pulled her hand away like it had burned her.

"I—I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to—God, I shouldn't've come over. I'm messing this up, aren't I? I thought maybe we were just—wine, and coworkers, and I don't even know if you—"

"Melissa."

She stopped.

You scooted in, slow and deliberate, and placed your hand back over hers, this time with no hesitance. Her breath caught again, but she didn't pull away.

You smiled softly. "I know you like me."

Her eyes widened.

You continued, voice low and teasing. "Everyone at school knows. I think the copier repair guy even knows. Honestly, the only person who thought they were being subtle was you."

Melissa opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a gentle thumb brushing across her knuckles.

"And here's the thing," you said, quieter now. "I like you too."

Her eyes searched yours like she wasn't sure she'd heard you right.

So you leaned in, just a little, enough for your knees to press fully together, for your faces to hover in shared space, warm wine-softened air between you.

"I like you, Melissa," you said again, more certain. "Always have."

Melissa blinked.

Then her shoulders slumped with the weight of about four months of suppressed emotion and six failed attempts at flirting and one very nervous heart.

She let out a breath. "Oh thank God," she muttered, closing her eyes. "Because I've been acting like a goddamn lunatic."

You laughed.

She cracked one eye open.

"I mean seriously," she said. "I made pasta for you. In two separate containers. That's like—marriage-level affection in my culture."

You grinned. "I was flattered."

"Good," she said, slowly untensing. "Because I think I've wanted to kiss you since January."

Your eyebrows lifted.

"Well," you said, voice soft and teasing again, "it's April."

Her mouth twitched. "You're saying I'm behind schedule?"

You leaned in, inches from her now.

"I'm saying you've got some catching up to do."

And this time, when her hand found yours again—stronger, surer—she didn't let go.

[toffyrats]

it’s finally starting to settle in that christmas is in 3 fucking days

[ionlycareaboutyou]

it's so funny i can have a relatively good week and be in a good mood but then i start thinking about food too hard and i'm like well time to end it all

[luna-azzurra]

Writing characters who don’t know they’re in love

(PS: but literally everyone else does and is so tired)

These characters aren’t clueless, no, they’re not walking around like, “love? never heard of her.” They know something’s going on, they just won’t admit it (not to themselves, not to anyone.) Maybe they’re scared of messing it up, or maybe they think the other person doesn’t feel the same. Maybe they’ve stuffed the feeling so deep even a NASA rover couldn’t dig it out.

Whatever the reason, they’re not avoiding the truth as much as they’re…rebranding it. Calling it “friendship” while giving each other their only jacket and dreaming about each other’s voices like it’s totally normal behavior.

ꕤ They don’t realize it’s love, but they notice everything else. They clock every mood shift, every absence, every little thing. They definitely  know when something’s off.

⇢ “You changed your hair.” ⇢ “You looked upset earlier.” ⇢ “You didn’t text me back and I panicked.” ⇢ “You weren’t at lunch and it felt weird.” ⇢ “Are you cold?” hands over jacket without a second thought

They don’t say “I love you,” but their actions scream it constantly.

ꕤ they get weird when someone else gets close They’re not jealous. No, how dare you think something like that… they’re just keeping an eye out. For safety... Or whatever."

⇢ “Who was that?” ⇢ “Oh, you’re hanging out with them again?” ⇢ “I just think it’s interesting how you never cancel on them.”

They don’t say it, but they hate the idea of being replaced. It stings more than they’re ready to admit.

ꕤ they make excuses to be around each other.

Literally inventing reasons to be in the same space.

⇢ “Wanna study together? I’m struggling with this topic.” (They’re not.) ⇢ “Oh, I was just in the area.” (They weren’t.) ⇢ “You forgot this.” (It’s a single pen.)

They’d rather lie badly than admit, “I just wanted to see you.”

ꕤ  Their friends are so over it Everyone around them is either rooting for them or trying not to scream.

⇢ “You’re in love with them.” ⇢ “That’s not friendship, and you know it.” ⇢ “You made them soup. FUCKING SOUP. Just say you’re married already.” ⇢ “If I have to hear you talk about them one more time, I’m charging rent.”

Friends are the Greek chorus of this situation, like, brutally honest and endlessly tired.

ꕤ  There’s always a moment they almost figure it out That one soft, unspoken beat where the truth almost breaks through.

⇢ Watching them laugh like it’s the first time. ⇢ Seeing them cry and wanting to fix it more than anything. ⇢ Realizing no one else makes them feel like this. ⇢ Thinking, God, they’re beautiful.

Then they blink, panic a little, and go, “Huh. Weird.” And move on. Like absolute fools.

ꕤ  When it finally hits, it’s not cute, it’s catastrophic. Suddenly everything makes sense and feels like too much.

⇢ Flashbacks. ⇢ Internal screaming. ⇢ “Oh no.” ⇢ “OH MY GOD.” ⇢ “Has it always been this obvious??” ⇢ “Wait. Everyone knew?!”

Yes. Everyone. The friends, the neighbor’s cat. You were the only two who didn’t get the memo...

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Along the Line

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, sex pollen, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, handjob, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, love confessions

Summary: After you get hit with a chemical on a mission, Bucky has to take care of you. But he won't do the one thing that will fix it, no matter how much you want him to.

And he wants it too. Maybe more. And, at some point, something has to break.

Author's Note: Sex pollen won the poll. First Thunderbolts fic. Big things happening. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.4k

���I told you this was a bad idea, Walker.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius. Do you want a trophy that says I knew it was a bad idea, or a sash-“

“Can I have a trophy?” Alexei pops into the screen, and you really don’t think this has to be a group activity.  “I could make it into a very fancy cup!”

You’re lying flat on the granite counter of the safe house, Bucky stiff at your side as he glowers to the video feed, and you might be dying. Or just burning alive. There’s a hot prickle over your skin that’s only getting worse, a series of cramps in your gut that feels like you’re being shredded apart then slammed back together, and an ache between your legs that isn’t foreign—at least, not when Bucky’s present—but is far too powerful given the circumstances. 

Maybe you’ve just lost it. You had been giggling an awful lot while Bucky killed all those Hydra agents, but he’d also called you doll again, and there had been a blissful, fuzzy feeling over your skull. And you’d moaned—really loudly, too—right in Bucky’s ear when he’d hauled you over his shoulder and carried you out of the building. 

“Fuckin’- Gonna throw Walker off a roof- We all told him this was a stupid new protocol-“

You’d hummed along to his grumblings, and most of your attention had been fixed on his hair. It was longer now. And he’d been taking care of it, so it was soft, and kind of smelled like vanilla. You’d wanted to tug on it. To run your fingers through it and see if he’d hum. Maybe yank on it while he was deep inside of you-

His muscles had flexed around you, and you’d whined that time. 

Whined and buried your face in his neck, before biting back tears as he’d tensed.

The line. 

You’d had to remember the line. 

Bucky smiles at you more than most people, but the line means that smiles are all you get. He sticks to your side most days, but you’re pretty sure he just feels responsible for you. You’re the lost puppy they picked up off the street. Sweet and likable, but mostly useless. 

You aren’t useless. 

You try not to be useless. 

That’s part of the line, too. 

You do a little more for Bucky than the rest of them. You’ll make sure Yelena has all the hamster food she needs, track down Bob all those coloring books he likes so much, and explain to Alexei that no, the government does not know how this season of Yellowjackets is going to end, so you’re not going to ask. But they can figure those things out themselves.

You think.

The point of your job is that none of these people have ever lived normal, 21st century lives, and they need to be likable to the public so please teach Ava about knocking, but none of them are stupid. 

They could all live without you. 

Bucky maybe the most of all. He has lived a life. He managed to—some fucking how—get his way into congress. 

So the line is do everything for him, because you’re a pathetic idiot with a crush on her boss, but also don’t do so much that you’re over stepping. 

Prioritize all his questions but don’t neglect the others. Return all of his smiles, and talk to him whenever you can, but he always has to initiate it. Always come when he calls—you really are a puppy—but don’t abandon other conversations for him.

Be an idiot, but keep your dignity. 

You’ll let him flirt with you—he doesn’t flirt with you, he just makes polite conversation, and you look at him like he’s sprouting gospel—but you won’t encourage it, because you really do like this job. It pays well. It’s morally questionable, but no well-paying job isn’t. And you’re going to use this money to pay off all your debts, and then your family’s debts as well. 

So if Bucky offers you his arm at an event, take it, and pretend you don’t want to grab him by the collar and climb him like a tree.  

If someone makes a comment—passing jokes from Walker about how you’re supposed to work for all of them, not just Barnes, or a dry look for Yelena when Bucky says good job and you flush like he just called you pretty—brush it off. Don’t make it weird. It’s obvious, and everyone knows, but don’t make it weird.

You’d whined, though. Whined and tried to nuzzle into Bucky as if he’d want that. 

You made it weird. 

And you’d pulled back with a mumbled apology, but Bucky had just grunted. You hadn’t spoken for the rest of the walk back to the safe house. If Bucky’s hand on your thigh had been squeezing on purpose, you’d bitten your tongue until you’d tasted the tang of blood. He couldn’t have been doing it on purpose. And you couldn’t make it weird. Again.

You’d gagged yourself with a cloth, when Bucky had set you down on the counter. If he’d thought anything of it, all you’d gotten was raised brows and a small frown before he moved on. Gotten you a second cloth—cold and wet and resting on your brow to combat the dry fever—and called the tower to report that the new protocol was, in fact, a stupid fucking idea. 

“Nobody’s getting any trophies.” He grunts, his arms crossed over his chest, and you want to spring up and tackle him. 

Maybe the metal arm could go inside of you, while the other one wrapped around your neck and kept you still against his chest, and that low, commanding voice would be right in your ear-

You’re moaning again. And your hips are jerking off the counter. 

It’s a good thing Bucky positioned himself where he did. You don’t need everyone to see you humping the air to the thought of metal fingers inside of you, cold and hard, pressing deep into your cunt at an abusing pace and-

That might have been another moan. 

The sound might have been too close to Bucky.

Fuck.

“Hey, I’m not handing them out,” Walker raises his hands on the screen. “And Yelena’s the one who started it-“

“No, I did not-“

“Uh, yeah you did. You said my idea was stupid-“

“It was stupid! It is going to get the bumblebee killed-“

Walker voice becomes almost a whine. “She’s not dying, she just got drugged! We’ve all been drugged, it’s not that big a deal-“

“Walker.” Bucky grunts, and that’s his everyone shut the hell up and listen voice, and your nails are digging into your skin with the effort not to grinding onto your hand. “Shut up. It was a stupid fucking idea-“

“But-“

“She’s a civilian-“

“She should know how to defend herself-“

“She shouldn’t have been here.” Bucky’s yelling now. The world is blurring slightly, and he’s not mad at you, but it’s still making your heart howl.

He’s not mad at you.

He still said he didn’t want you here. With him. 

The line says you should swallow that, then cry in your room later. 

But whatever is making your heart burn and your skin feel raw doesn’t care about the line. It’s just pressing on your eyes and feeding the sting behind them, lumping in your throat and shaking at your lips-

The first sob is soft, and weak. Muffled in the gag. If you’re lucky, too quiet to hear-

You’re not lucky. 

Bucky turns to look at you with wide eyes, his brow furrowed in tight lines your fingers are literally fucking itching to trace, and you shake your head. 

No attention. If he’s kind, he’ll pretend he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks and he’ll ignore you and let you just choke on it. On the overwhelming soreness in your chest and the way your heart is pressing into itself until hairline fractures start to form, and soon they’re going to turn into chasms and why is he moving, he’s a good man that should let you deal with your own problems, so why the fuck is he moving-

A warm, calloused hand rests on your face, wiping your cheeks before moving to your brow, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. If you look at Bucky hovering above you, you’ll either cry more, or moan his name again. If you turn your head you’ll see the rest of the team on the computer, and they’ll be looking at you with all that sympathy—the kind that calls you weak—and you’ll scream.

Eyes shut. 

Don’t lean into his touch, even when his finger tangle slightly into your hair. Even when thumb brushes over your lips—why the fuck is he doing that too, he must secretly fucking hate you—hold the line. Don’t open for him. Don’t moan his name into the gag. Don’t-

“Shit.” Bucky’s voice is low, and you squeeze your eyes tighter. “You’re- Shit-“

“What is wrong with the bumblebee?” Alexei calls from the computer, and you can hear Yelena’s sigh.

“Walker’s brilliant plan got her exposed to something. She’s sick.”

“It was a brilliant plan-“

“She is crying, you dickshit-“

“I think you mean dipshit-“

“I am going to kill you-“

“Alexei.” Bucky grunts, his hand still on your face. You’re losing resolve. You’re going to lean into his touch. “Don’t let them kill each other.”

“Do not worry, Barnes. I will stand right between them, and their attack will not affect- Ow!”

Bucky’s hand moves away. 

Thank Christ.

“Yelena, why did you punch me-“

“I was trying to punch John, and you were in the way-“

“Yelena.” Bucky’s voice is a little further away now. 

You’d wanted him to move away. It was best for everyone that he moved away. You can open your eyes and stare at the ceiling now. 

But where his hand had been now feels white-hot, like he’d lit you on fire then poured liquid nitrogen over your skin. And it’s spreading. Through your blood before pooling in your gut, then leaking between your thighs-

“I need you to focus. Walker, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Good. Keep doing that.” 

“Whatever-“

“That’s not shutting up.” Bucky says your name, and you really hope he’s still blocking you from view. You’ve started to palm at your breasts—just for something—and you don’t really want to be a full, on display sex show. “We need to focus on her.”

Fuck. Your eyes roll back in your head, and his words are sending shivers through your whole body. Up your spine and over all your nerves, and he’s nowhere near you now, but he’s still fucking talking, and that seems to be more than enough.

“Whatever was in that gas, it’s making her- She can’t walk without falling over. And she’s got a fever.”

“A fever?” You can hear the frown in Yelena’s voice. “How bad of a fever?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a thermometer. But,” you turn your head slightly to see the screen, just in time to watch Walker’s mouth snap shut. “I can feel her skin burning. It’s bad. I need options.”

“Options?”

“What can we do.” Bucky mutters, and you can’t see his face, but there’s a strain in his voice that just makes you want to moan for him again. “We’re miles from a hospital, and it’s a two-day flight back. I gotta know how to make it better until we get pickup.”

Yelena hums, her eyes meeting yours through the camera. “Why is there a gag in her mouth.”

“I- Uh-“ Bucky glances over his shoulder, and you choke on another whimper. “She did that. To herself.”

“Can she talk?”

“Yelena-“

“Take the gag out.” Yelena shrugs, still holding your gaze. “She can tell us what she feels.”

No. 

That’s a horrible idea. 

And you’re trying to tell Bucky that, before it’s too late. Trying to plead with him, using an open, desperate expression. Begging him with your eyes to ignore Yelena and say that he can see that you’re in pain, so the best thing to do is just send the jet. 

But he just glances at you, his jaw tenses, and he shakes his head.  

It doesn’t look like it’s for you. 

It still pulls an almost broken howl from your throat. Like he’s driving a blade right into your chest. 

His knuckles brush your lips as he moves the cloth out of your mouth. He won’t look you in the eyes.

The howl splits through the room, falling into more of a whimper by the end, and if the ground opened up, you’d jump down to hell without a second thought.

There’s a long, taut silence—Bucky still won’t look at you—and Yelena clears her throat.

“Are you in pain?” She says your name carefully, and you nod. “Can you speak?”

“Yes.” Your voice is barely a breath, and Yelena’s lips move into a thin line. 

“Bucky, she needs to be closer. I cannot hear her from there.”

Bucky grunts, and suddenly you’re being scooped up into his arms. Your face is near his neck again, and you’re being cradled right against his chest, and you can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat, or his-

“Why didn’t you just move the computer, man.”

Bucky tenses around you. “Shut up, Walker.”

“No, I’m not insane about this one. I mean, Alexei, he could have moved the computer right- Fuck!”

“You are not helping.” Yelena snaps, and Walker groans from somewhere off the screen. “Be quiet, or go.”

Walker sighs, but doesn’t move away. There’s a tightness to his face that’s mirror on Bucky and Yelena’s, and that can’t be a good sign. You haven’t even said anything yet. 

Yelena says your name carefully, leaning closer to the camera. “What are you feeling.”

“A- a lot.” You whisper, and someone’s—you’re still not clear on if it’s yours or Bucky’s—heart stumbles slightly. “My- Skin. It’s on fire. And, um- I- My throat hurts, and it’s so much and empty and cold-“

“Cold?” Yelena cuts you off with a frown. “You are feeling cold?”

You nod, then shake your head. “It- I’m feeling everything. I- It’s- It’s like I’ve been turned up to a million and it all hurts-“

“Does anything feel good?”

Bucky. Bucky feels good. The feeling of him all around you and the smell of that shampoo and his woodsy body wash. The strength of him around you. Bucky feels so good-

The line.

You nod, and bite your tongue again. You can’t say it. Everything falls apart if you say it.

And Yelena sighs, scanning over you carefully, and shakes her head.

“Bucky, leave the room.”

He goes rigid. You don’t love the idea either. “What.”

“Put her back on the counter and go outside.”

“I am not-“

“Do you want to help her?”

“Of course I-“

“Then go.”

No. 

No, no, no. He can’t leave. If he pushes you away it will be like shooting you with a toxin, he can’t, no-

Bucky sets you down with far too much care, and you’re not fast enough to squeeze your eyes shut. He’s cupping your face. Forcing your gaze onto his, looking right into you with an unreadable expression, and your mouth is falling open—a split second from begging him to stay—but he shakes his head. 

“Call for me. If you need anything.” His grip tightens, and your hand flies up to his wrist. “I’ll be upstairs. I-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and something flashes over his face. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you’re asking for. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Bucky flinches back as if you’ve burned him, grumbles something to Yelena you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears—it was his heartbeat—and then stomps away. When your vision clears—it’s unclear when you started crying, but you’re really starting to lose track on everything—the laptop is right next to you, and nobody is on the screen but Yelena. 

“Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your nose with your sleeve, and she lets out a slow breath.

“Good. I mean, keep… Letting it out. As you have to. But if you are done, we can talk.”

“Yelena-“

“I am going to ask you a question.” She holds your gaze, and your arms wrap around your stomach. It’s honestly a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the side. “And you will need to be honest.”

Your voice is still too soft. “Okay.”

“What are you thinking about, right now. And,” Yelena raises her brows before you can answer. “Honest. Whatever you are thinking, I have seen and thought worse-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and the floodgates open. “And his hands. And arms. And legs. And his face, his face is so nice, and his beard and hair look so good, and I- I need him- His hands- In me. And he smells so good, and I think he’ll taste good too, and if he kisses me I’m going to die- And if he doesn’t touch me I’m going to die- and he- he won’t look at me-“ You’re fucking crying again. You can’t stop. “And if he doesn’t look at me I’m going to die- But if he does look at me I’m going to- Shit, I want him to look at me and touch me and kiss me and his hands-“

You take a long, shaking breath as darkness creeps at the corner of your vision, and Yelena blinks at you.

“So you are… Thinking about Bucky.”

Fuck.

You give a tiny nod, and she- 

Grins.

“Oh, thank God.” Yelena leans back in her chair, running a hand over her face. “I was actually worried. I mean- If I say Bucky’s cock, what-“

You let out a loud, lewd moan, and Yelena’s still grinning. 

“And if I say we all hate you-“

It’s immediate. The rush of pain tightening in your chest, almost like an electric shock. You burst into tears, pulling your knees right up to your chest, and Yelena’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, shit-“

Something slams, and Bucky’s shouting your name far too close to your body. He shouldn’t be close to him. He hates you, they all hate you, you’re going to get fired and die alone and empty and you can’t breathe-

“What the fuck did you do to her-“

“I was testing it! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“Obviously you didn’t fucking think-“

“Don’t yell at me, Bucky, I was helping-“

“She’s fucking crying-“

“I know, I-“ Yelena says your name, and you curl into a tighter ball. “We don’t hate you. Nobody hates you. You’re the bumblebee. You do all the work, and you’re sweet, I was- I was just kidding-“

“Just-“ A hand rests on your shoulder. You’d recognize it as Bucky’s even if there were a million others, pulling you right down into Hell. “You told her we hate her?!”

“It was a test-“

“What the hell, Yelena-“

“I can fix it! Listen,” she repeats your name, and you choke on the air. “We do not hate you! Shit, it’s- Bucky loves you!”

That’s your heart. Doing the scratch and break and rewind. Stumbling over itself before kicking up to pace that’s going to burst right out of your chest. And the silence in the air is too long, and too heavy, and you want to keep crying but you also feel like you’re sort of high. He loves you. Yelena might be lying, but she’s not the type to lie about that, so Bucky loves you-

You’re giggling again.

Something is seriously fucking wrong with you.

“Yelena.” Bucky grunts, and at least he’s still touching you. Because he loves you. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“A lot, but- Look! She’s smiling! And I know what she got hit with!”

There’s a long pause, the only sound your soft, breathy laughs—Bucky’s starting to rub circles on your back, and you can feel the moan building back up—and Bucky clear his throat. 

“Are you going to fucking tell me?”

“I was getting to it. Keep your pants on.” Yelena laughs. “I mean, for now-“

“Yelena-“

“It is an old gas. The red room used to use it for torture.”

Broad, strong fingers still on your back. “Torture.”

“Yep, that is what I said-“

“What kind of torture-“

“Physical and mental. Her brain is scrambled soup. All of her feelings have been dialed up to a bajillion, so she is going to be very suggestive, and very overwhelmed.” Yelena sighs. “Emotionally. And, ah- Her reservations maybe be… Broken.”

Bucky’s silent for a little too long, and all you can do is focus on your breathing. That explains a lot. You really wish it didn’t.

“Do we wait it out?” Bucky’s voice is impossibly neutral. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t love you, Yelena had been lying to calm you down, and the tears are pricking back into your eyes-

“No. It has to be sweat out. Exercise or torture.”

Fuck. Something low and heavy, dreadful and tight, is starting to bubble in your gut. You can’t walk, let alone exercise. And you’re not strong enough to withstand torture. Not from anyone, but definitely not from Bucky, that’s going to shatter you into nothing more than scattered sand and glass on the floor-

“Or,” there’s a drawling kind of glee in Yelena’s voice, and you keep your face buried in your knees. “Sex. Sex should work.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes land on Bucky’s own, wide ones, his mouth hanging open and something that’s either sweat or the other thing is wet between your legs. He’s still touching you. 

“I-“ He coughs, still staring at you, and you’re feeling a little light-headed. “I can’t-“

Oh. 

Okay.

You don’t get a chance to cry this time. 

Everything just goes black.

———

“No.”

“Bucky-“

“I won’t.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Yelena. “Stop trying to convince me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you, I am trying to get you to save her life-“

Bucky shook his head. She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that what was being painted as the solution was really just the worst crime he could ever commit. 

He’d done a lot of fucked up things, as the Soldat. And being at war hadn’t exactly been a picnic before that. But he’d never crossed that line. There were some fogged over memories—the kind that stung at his brain when they bubbled to the surface—where Hydra had told him to, but he’d resisted. Throttled that last bit of his humanity by the throat, and said no. He wouldn’t. 

It had been the only thing he’d always been able to fight back against, even when he couldn’t remember his own fucking name. The last thing he’d been able to identify as wrong.

And doing it to Her- When She was trusting him to take care of Her, and it was his own fault this was happening at all, because that gas had been meant for him-

Bucky would rather jump off a tower or shoot himself in the goddamn skull. 

“This isn’t saving her life.” He muttered. “It’s ruining it. We’ll wait it out until you can send a jet to us, and then we’ll put her in a sauna or some shit.”

Yelena’s nose wrinkled. “Or you could just fuck the girl you are obviously in love with-“

“I am not-“

“Yes, you are. Do not lie to me, Bucky. You make a really pathetic expression at her, it’s all-“ 

Yelena’s face went slack, her brows raising and drawing slightly, and Bucky scowled. 

“I’m hanging up-“

“No, wait- Just-“ Yelena sighed. “I know you’re a man, and feelings are scary, but this gas is- It will be the worst days of her life, if you do not just get over yourself, and stick your dick inside of her.”

Jesus Christ. If She hadn’t been trying to kill him before—moaning his name and opening Her mouth when he touched it, looking at him with pretty eyes and snuggling into his chest—Yelena was trying to kill him now. All Bucky could see was Her sprawled out below him, Her eyes blown-out with lust as he slid into Her, head thrown back as she whined for more, and Bucky gave it to Her with his lips biting and sucking on Her throat- 

These were the type of things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Not now. Not when She was rolling around in bed upstairs, and the last time Bucky had checked on Her, he’d gotten too good a look at Her breasts. Flushed with peaked nipples as the sheets stuck to Her skin, and he could’ve goddamn sworn She’d moaned his name in her sleep-

Not thinking about it. He couldn’t think about it. For so many reasons, Bucky couldn’t think about it, and he’d never do it.

He’d sworn to himself he’d never do it. That the well-played fantasies would remain fantasies, because he had no right. 

He was Her boss had been the first reason. The obvious one, when She’d been bouncing in Her heels and looking around the meeting room with an open, sweet expression. Valentina had said meet your new admin, it had clicked in Bucky’s head what that meant, and then suddenly asking Her to get a drink or something had been forcibly tossed out the window. 

Then that reason had become… less effective. She’d kept being beautiful—which just wasn’t fucking fair to anyone—and She was smart and charismatic and patient, and her hips swayed a little when she walked, and Bucky’s attraction had grown. Bloomed and spread and burrowed roots over his ribs, where it was impossible to dig them out. He liked Her wide smile, and he liked Her voice, and he liked how She could shut Walker up with just a look. 

He liked Her enough to take risks. Risks like walking closer to Her than he needed to, and convincing the rest of the team that She did actually need a room in the tower. And they’d all seen right goddamn through him—he’d heard Bob whisper to Yelena it’s because he has a crush on her, right, after the meeting was over—but they’d let it slide. So he’d taken more risks. Eating lunch with Her in a very professional way. Bringing He to events and keeping Her on his arm, for safety. Casual, flirty comments that were nothing if She didn’t want them to be, but did manage to take an edge off of his own pent-up hunger for Her.

Boss hadn’t been enough. 

So he’d turned to young. She was too young. Bucky was over a hundred and She was younger than Bob. 

Then he’d walked in on Her watching a TV show with Alexei and Ava, the former looking downright terrified about the comments that were being thrown at the screen. About how hot the actors were. And She’d pointed to one with a beard and longer hair—this hadn’t helped the situation—and said I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. 

Bucky had been a fucking idiot and googled the actor. The guy was almost fifty.

He’d needed another reason. 

Too kind. She was nice to everyone, and it wasn’t just for Her job. She never got frustrated at stupid questions, and She’d listen to anyone’s stupid rants—She’d somehow sat through a whole I just think I’d have been a good Roman General speech from Walker without one eyeroll—and Bucky wasn’t rude, but he didn’t deserve that.

The too kind reason had lasted the shortest amount of time. She’d kept being kind, and then She’d made Bucky cookies for his birthday, and he’d wanted to kiss Her right goddamn there. 

His current reason was She deserved better. That one had been serving him well. She deserved someone who hadn’t done the things Bucky had, who was all smiles and kindness, who She’d want. That was a second, incredibly useful reason. She didn’t want Bucky. 

So he wouldn’t think about Her breasts anywhere but in the privacy of his own room, alone, while he beat his cock into his hand. And he wouldn’t stick his dick in Her, because it would be wrong. He’d be taking advantage of Her while she was vulnerable. 

He wouldn’t cross that line.

“Just send the jet.” He grunted, moving his hand the top of the laptop. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “Bucky-“

He closed the laptop, and let out a long, heavy breath. 

He wouldn’t.

No matter how much this was one of his fantasies come to life, Bucky had to remember that it was really more of a nightmare. 

For Her. 

For Her, she was stuck in a painful looking state of unpredictable emotion. Bucky tried to bring Her tea, and She’d started crying again because he’d remembered the way she liked it and that was apparently tear-worthy. Then he told Her that she needed a shower—she was drenched in sweat and other things that Bucky was trying really fucking hard pretend he couldn’t smell—and Her odd, soft and happy tears changed to weak, broken sobs. 

“Shit- What’s-“

“You think I’m disgusting.” She looking up at him with glossy, watering eyes and trembling lips, and Bucky felt like he was being goddamn shot. “You- You hate me-“

“No.” He grunted. “I don’t hate you-“

“Yes, you do-“

“No. I don’t.” Bucky grabbed Her face between his hands, forcing Her attention onto him. “Trust me. You’d know if I hated you, doll.”

It was a sight, before him. Her lips parted, literal drool falling from them—that Bucky would like to kiss away, but he wasn’t allowed to—and Her hands wrapped around his wrists with an almost strangling grip. 

“I don’t hate you.” He muttered, forcing himself to hold Her gaze. “Got it?”

She nodded, sitting up a little up She was on her knees, and Bucky didn’t have enough willpower for this-

His thumb moved of its own accord. Wiping just a little bit of drool from away.

She moaned. 

Fuck.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathless, and almost songlike. “Please. I- I need it, I need it so bad-“

“Doll-“

“Please.” Her eyes were welling with more and more tear, and a few were starting to slide down Her cheeks. “I- I’m sorry- It just hurts- You can fire me after or call the cops-“

He frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’m-“ She hiccupped slightly. “You’re saying no, and I’m asking again-“

“Jesus- I know you can’t help it, doll, it’s the gas-“

“So fuck it out of me.” She rose higher, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she was pushing Her boobs up on purpose or not. “I- I’m sorry- I need you, Bucky, I’ll do anything, I’ll suck your cock first or after and it can be however you want but please-“

Bucky had to let go of Her. He had to release Her and take a stumbling step back, or else he would have damned it all and listened to Her. She was drugged. Her mind was being altered, and when it left her system, She’d already be embarrassed about what happened. Bucky would rather still be at Her side to assure Her, then cast out into the dirt because he’d been a selfish dick and taken advantage of Her. She only wanted him because he was the only option. If Walker was here, She’d be throwing herself at him, too. 

That made Bucky feel fucking sick. Walker wouldn’t do that—at the very least, they all seemed to clear that last, impossibly low bar—but now Bucky was fucking thinking about Her on her knees, whining for Walker to fuck Her. Promising to suck his dick. And now he was thinking about Her under Walker, and there was a bad taste in the back of his throat, and he didn’t even care that it was Walker, Bucky just goddamn hated that it wasn’t him-

No right. Bucky had no goddamn right over the sour feeling in his chest, or the sickness in his gut. If he had a right, none of this would be a problem. She’d actually want him, and there wouldn’t be any complexities, and Bucky could help Her.

But this was Hell for Her. And all Bucky could do was help Her.

She was all that mattered. 

So he wouldn’t cross the line.

The rest of the night was hell. The two days for a jet thing hadn’t been an exaggeration. It was even looking more like three. They were trapped together. And Bucky was doing everything he could to make it better, but it only seemed to be getting worse. Bringing Her more tea just led to Her begging for sex. Avoiding Her just meant he could hear Her crying about how much he hated Her, but when he’d try to remind Her that he didn’t, She’d just ask him to fuck Her again. Then She’d start apologizing for asking, all while still pleading, and Bucky would shuffle away to hide in his own room. 

A lot of sleep was lost trying not to get a boner to the sounds of Her fucking herself into Her pillows. As the next day progressed, Her activities seemed to be limited to cry, beg for sex, sleep, masturbate.  

It was going to drive Bucky goddamn insane. 

And She had no way of knowing. No way to understand exactly what She was doing to him. 

She’d plead with him, and he said no, and his heart split in two as She’d start crying once more. There had to be some way he could help. He couldn’t just fucking sit here and-

“Bucky.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut. She was calling for him again, and he couldn’t ignore Her—what if something was actually wrong—but he didn’t know how many more Bucky, please fuck me’s or I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, it just hurts he could take. 

He murmured Her name as he opened the door, but She didn’t respond. 

The whole room smelled like sex. 

He had to ignore it.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathy. Soft.

And when he moved to the mattress, She was knocked the hell out. Holding the sheets bunched around Her legs and pressing her face into the covers. 

Bucky whispered Her name, moving to pull a little hair out of Her mouth, and she snuggled further into the mattress. 

But his knuckles brushed Her cheek, and she let out a sweet little sound that was going to haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life. 

She was shivering. Breathing too shallow, with Her fever building, and Bucky didn’t know what the hell to do. Yelena said She needed to sweat, but She was only shaking and whimpering. Running wasn’t an option. They didn’t exactly have warm, sunny days outside. Torture had never even been on the table, and touching Her- 

She leaned into his hand. The human one, cupping Her cheek because Bucky had gotten lost in thought, and failed to realize what he was doing. 

But She leaning into him. Into the warmth of his skin. 

That wouldn’t be crossing any line. Body heat was body heat. Soldiers shared it all the time. It was a necessity. 

He stared at Her for another long moment, trying to weigh it out in his mind, and then She whispered his name again. Whispered it and shivered, and that was enough. Bucky wouldn’t do that.

But he wouldn’t just let Her fucking suffer either. 

“Hold on, doll.” He muttered, and She shifted slightly on the mattress. “You’ll be alright.”

She would be. Bucky would make sure of it. 

He detached his metal arm, first. She’d never had a problem with it—that was one of the things he’d liked about Her a lot, at first—but it wasn’t warm.

Then he crawled into bed at Her side, and used his remaining arm to pull Her right into his body. Her face tucked under his chin and Her fingers curled against his chest. She wasn’t sweating, but She was getting warmer. She stopped shaking, then a lot of the tension left Her body, and within what could only be an hour, Her breathing was steady. 

Bucky should go now. His work was done. 

He couldn’t move. 

And maybe if he moved, he’d have to come back. They hadn’t gotten it out of Her system. It might be better, just for it to worsen the moment he was gone. 

It was a good an excuse as any. The closest he’d ever get to Her without losing Her. 

So Bucky stopped trying to force himself to move. She felt to right in his arms to push Her away. 

And he held Her until morning. 

He’d like to hold Her longer. 

But he could also die a happy man with only this. 

———

He was here. It wasn’t a fever dream. 

You know Bucky was here.

The mattress is still dipped where he’d lain. The sheets have been more awkwardly shoved into your arms than caught in them by restless sleep.

You can fucking smell him. Vanilla and cedar, hanging in the silent air around you. 

He was here. 

But he’s gone. 

You don’t understand why he’d be here, just to go. Why he won’t help you. 

He must know about your crush, and he thinks that once he indulges you, you’ll be weird. You won’t be weird. You’ll suck it up. You know he’s off-limits, and this would just be a favor to stop how much this hurts. He can see that you’re just in pain from the drug, and it’s amplifying all your emotions, and one of your emotions just happens to be love for Bucky. 

Maybe he’s disgusted by that.

By you.

Maybe he hates you, and that’s why he won’t just save you from this hell and fuck you.

But if he hated you, he wouldn’t have been in bed with you. He would have heard you moaning his name—you’ve done that before, only in the privacy of your own room, but the drug doesn’t seem to be doing wonders for your self-control—and curled his lip and turned a blind eye.

He hasn’t turned a blind eye all day. He’s brought you food and made you drink water and helped you stumble to the bathroom. He checks on you every hour, and his jaw always clenches whenever he tells you no, and you burst into tears.

It could be frustration. He’s told you no, and you keep asking, and that isn’t cool. It’s mean. Cruel. Wrong. And a lump is forming in your throat because he’s trying to take care of you and you’re pushing him-

But he crawled into bed with you. Without you asking him to.

And you don’t know why.

You don’t call for him. Your legs feel like paper underneath you, but you’re standing on them. Taking shaking steps to the door, and- 

You fall in a second. 

Bucky’s there faster.

“What the hell,” he’s scooping you into his arms. They’re so big. “Do you think you’re doing.”

You swallow, trying to fight off a whimper at the firmness of his tone. He hates you-

The bed. He’d been in your bed.

You’re going to figure this out. Your brain feels like a hazy of very loud songs about pain and Bucky and love and it hurts and Bucky again, but you’re going to get to the fucking bottom of this.

“I was walking.” 

“You were walking?” Bucky’s expression is incredulous, as he sets you down. You’d laugh if you didn’t think you’d cry at the same time. “Why-“

“Was coming to find you.” You mumble, staring at your hands, and Bucky sighs. 

He’s holding your face between his hands. 

Why does he keep doing that.

“Could’ve just called, doll.” He mutters. “Nothin’ is so urgent you gotta hurt yourself-“

“Why were you in bed with me?”

He freezes. “What.”

“You were in bed with me.” You whisper, ignoring the blur in your eyes as you hold his gaze. “I know you were. And I- I don’t understand why you’d do that-“

“I-“

“But you won’t fuck me!” You push up on your knees, and Bucky’s so tall over you. Tall and firm, and you want to him to wrap around you forever-

Not now.

Bucky’s staring at you, and you’re trying not to fall into him, and no matter what this ends—either in your head, or real life—with Bucky over you. Right now you just have to push through the white-hot pain in your gut and over your head, and get through this.

“You-“ Bucky clear his throat, his voice suddenly a little hoarse. “You’re not mad. That I was in bed with you.”

“Yes. No. I-“ You take a shaking breath. You won’t moan. “I- I’m mad you were in bed with me and didn’t fuck me-“

“I’ve told you, I won’t-“

“But you will get in bed with me? Without me asking?” You raise your brows, and Bucky lets out a long breath. 

“I- You don’t get it.”

“I don’t. Bucky I- I know you don’t want me like that-“

“I never said that-“

“But it hurts.” You sound pathetic. You can’t remember how to care. “I- I just need it to stop hurting, and I’m sorry, I know it’s- I shouldn’t be asking more than once, but it hurts, and if you really don’t want to I’ll survive, but-“

Stop telling me what I- Fuck.” Bucky snaps your name, and pain shooting through your head. “I never said I didn’t want to.”

You’re both silent. Far too silent, for a little too long, and the air grows thin as you stare at Bucky, and he stares right back. Jaw clenched and arms folded over his chest, and you’re either floating or falling but you can’t really fucking tell. You can still smell him. Feel the heat from his body, only a foot away. 

Words come slow. Everything that isn’t Bucky is sort of far away.

“I-“ You swallow, your skin on fire and an iron is wrapping around your lungs. “You- Bucky-“

“Breathe.” He mutters. “Slow.”

You take a loud, stuttering gasp, and his eyes flare in slight surprise.

“You should lie back down, doll-“

“No- I-“ You shift around, bunching the sheets between your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure that’s pounding in your core. 

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly, and you’re really trying to not make him uncomfortable—if not only because, if his lips curl in disgust, you’ll start sobbing again and maybe pass out—but it hurts. 

“Bucky.” You whisper, and he grunts, his eyes suddenly fixed right over your head. “Can you please-“

“I won’t.”

“Look at me.” You dig your fingers into your thighs, just to stop them from reaching for him. “Please keep looking at me.”

His throat bobs, and if he says no, that will be fine. Right now it feels like a death sentence, but in the long run you’ll get over it. You will get over it. You’ll change your name and move to Mongolia. You don’t speak Mongolian. You’ll figure out how to speak Mongolian, then move to Mongolia. You’ll build a life there. And Bucky will never find you, and nobody will ever have to think about you ever again except for your future Mongolian husband-

Bucky’s eyes drop to yours, and they’re darkened and pretty, and the whine that escapes your throat is involuntary. But Bucky’s jaw only ticks, and he holds your gaze.

You try to mimic Yelena’s cooperate or die tone when you speak.

“I’m going to ask you a question.” You whisper, and in your voice, the authority just comes out as breathless and needy. “Can you please be honest with me?”

Bucky grunts, giving you a tight nod, and you let out a slow breath. 

“Do- Do you want to?”

“Fuck-“ He runs a hand over his face, and your whole body braces for the no- 

“I’m sor-“

“Of course I want to.” He snaps, and this is floating, not falling. “You look so- I can fucking hear you, and I’d do goddamn anything to make this better for you-“

“Then please-“

“No.”

You gape at him, your heart shooting right into your throat. No. He wants to, but no, and every single nerve in your body is burning and freezing all at once. You can’t even find tears. It’s all just fogged thoughts and pain, torn between Bucky wants to help, wants to fuck you, and no.

“Why?”

Bucky mutters your name, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, Buck, I’d- It’s your choice and I’ll be fine-“ You won’t be. But that’s not Bucky’s responsibility, how you broke your own heart into a million pieces because you were an idiot, and this was how it was always going to end, but picking up the mess you made of yourself is still going to slice your hands open and leave your heart bleeding and lonely on the floor. “I- I’ll be okay, but tell me why-“

“I wouldn’t be right.” He mutters, and your chest is going to split open. 

“Why not-“

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer-“

“Doll-“

“Please, just tell me-“ You take a stuttering breath, curling slightly away from him. You can’t be close. It’s only making the pain worse. “I promise, I’ll stop asking, but I- Just tell me why-“

“Be-“

“Don’t say because.” You glare up at him, and his mouth snaps shut. 

Now there’s a pain in your gut that’s hot and bitter. Sore. You were mean, and it’s not his fault-

“I- I’m sorry.” You whisper, staring down at his knees. “It hurts, Bucky, and you say you want to, but you won’t, and that doesn’t make any sense-“

He grunts your name, and you wrap your arms around your stomach. 

“I just- I want to know why-“

“Because it can’t happen like this!”

Your world does the sane little stutter-stop from yesterday. That must be your own heartbeat in your ears, but- Maybe you’ve just lost your mind, and this is all a dream, yet the sound of Bucky’s ragged breathing is very loud. And you’re leaning forward. To Bucky. 

When you drag your gaze up his body—your mouth hanging open and your heart still stumbling in your ears—he’s staring at you. His voice is hoarse when he speaks. 

“You’re not in your right mind, sweetheart.” There’s a softness to his words, and this must be a dream. “I’m not gonna do this to you, when it’s not even you askin’ for it.”

“I- I am-“

“No. You’re not. It’s the gas talking-“

“And where do you think it’s getting the words?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“Nothing I’m feeling is new.” You stare at him, and his frown deepens. “I- I’m not- Yelena said it amplifies things, not creates them-“

“You’re looking for relief-“

“Why do you think I need relief?!”

His stare is cutting right into your body. There’s no fucking way it’s been this easy. That he thought that you just- That you wouldn’t, all the time, every single time you take a breath or lay in bed alone-

“I- I giggled.” You whisper. “And cried. When Yelena said you- That you felt something for me.”

“You were crying about everything.” He counters, but even his voice is dropping to a rasp. “And- Sex is just one of the ways to get rid of it, and I’m here-“

“I wouldn’t be desperate for sex if I didn’t want you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing, and you push a little higher off the mattress. 

“I- I want you, Bucky. It’s not the drugs, it’s me, wanting you, and I- It hurts how much I want you-“

He whispers your name, but you just fucking push on. Too late to turn back now, anyway.

“I want you to touch me and fuck me and use me and let me touch you and- And I want you to sleep next to me and kiss me and l-“

Your words fall into a long, loud moan as Bucky grabs your face between his hands. You don’t fight him. You could never fight him. It’s just waiting for him, and you’re really good at that.

He’s examining you so carefully. Slowly. Trying to give you one last chance to tell him no.

You’re not going to take it. 

So you hold his gaze, and let out a soft little sigh when he licks his lips.

That seems to be what he was waiting for. 

Bucky leans down, his nose bumping against yours ever so slightly, and then he’s kissing you. 

He’s fucking kissing you.

And God, you were right. It’s going to kill you. It’s slow and deliberate, Bucky humming against you as his mouth slots perfectly over yours, taking far too much—and still not enough—time to let you sigh and get lost in the taste of him. Somehow exactly what you imagined—coffee and mint and vanilla—and far, far better.

His tongue starts to trace over your lips before pressing down, and you open for him without a thought. Letting him push in deeper, until you’re moaning into his mouth and he’s eating the sound with low grunts, angling your head in his hands to grant him further access. All you can think about is the warmth spreading through your whole body in a way that doesn’t hurt, and how euphoria is building up like fireworks and light under your skin, and if this is just one kiss, sex might kill you. 

It will be a good way to go. 

When Bucky pulls back—his gaze blown out and your mouth still hanging open—you’re not above begging again. If he kisses you like that then walks away, you’ll crumble into a million, dented pieces that will scatter on the wind and sink into gutters-

“Is that okay?” His brow is tightened, his thumb toying slightly with the corner of your mouth. “I can do more, but-“

“More.” You nod a little like a bobblehead. “More is good, Bucky, please-“

He shakes his head, and a sob almost breaks out of your throat—he can’t do this to you, not after kissing you first—before you hear the borderline awe in his voice. 

“You’re- I can’t believe you’re real.” He murmurs your name, and his hands are so careful on your face. “You need to tell me-“

“I’m real.” 

Bucky chuckles, and the sound only spurs your need for him, rushing right between your legs. “Was going to ask if you were sure, doll.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and nod. “I- I’m sure. I’m so sure, Bucky, I- I want you- So bad-“

“How bad?” There’s something dark and hungry in his voice, and you don’t bother to stop your moan.

“So bad, I- I need you, Bucky- Just you, I- I love you-“

There it is. 

The second kiss is a little harsher than the first. More demanding, with teeth and spit and Bucky pressing you down onto the mattress. You let him move over you, his hands finding your thighs and slowly pushing them apart-

You gasp into his mouth when the metal hand traces over your core, your hips jerking slightly off the bed your fingers scratching at his back, and Bucky chuckles.

“You like that, babygirl?”

Oh.

That’s nice. 

And whatever sound that escapes you must echo that—high and blissful—because Bucky only laughs again.

“Yeah, I think you like that.” He nips at the corner of your mouth, then starts to trail a line of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses down your throat. “Been waitin’ for this so long, think-“

He cuts himself off, pushing up to frown at you. 

“You think you can take it slow, doll? Or, uh-“ He slaps your pussy lightly over your underwear, and you squeak. “Y’know.”

He’s still rubbing you with his palm, as he waits for you to answer. And slow sounds like fucking torture, but it’s Bucky asking, and there’s already some sort of relief being offered by him liking you back, he likes you back and it’s making the world slip from under you as your heart floats away-

Bucky grunts your name. “Words would be helpful.”

“Slow is fine.” You whisper, trying to spread your legs a little wider. “Just- Don’t stop touching me, please.” 

His nostrils flare, his hand gliding up your stomach to palm at your breasts with a look of what might be wonder on his face. “You want me to touch you?”

You nod weakly, and his tongue flicks over his lips as he mimics the movement. 

“Yeah, alright.” His thumb starts to flick over your nipple as he examines your face. “I can do that. Think you can take what I give you?” He lowers back down, just enough for his lips to brush yours as he speaks. “Think you can be good?”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Ye- Yes. Please.”

“Yeah.” His face splits into a wide grin, right as his hand moves away from your chest. “I think you can too.”

You’re about to shove him for the teasing tone—or just whine about how he’s not touching you anymore—but then his hand returns to your core, and he’s just rubbing, but his mouth has attached to your breasts and he’s sucking small marks all over your body, and you’re going to fly out of your skin from nothing at all. 

“Jesus, I can feel how wet you are.” Bucky words are muffled against your skin, and you start to grind against his hand. “Slow down, doll, I told you-“

Bucky cuts himself off with a groan that rolls through your body, and in the effort to stop your own movements, you’d yanked on his hair. 

Hard.

And you swallow when he tilts his gaze up to yours. He looks like he’s going to eat you alive. 

“Don’t stop doin’ that.” His voice is almost a growl. You might be able to cum from only that. “You like these?”

You frown at him. “Like wha- Oh.”

A metal finger shoves your panties to the side, his finger shoving right into your cunt without warning, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

He’s moving so slow. Pumping in and out at a torturous pace, holding your gaze as he kisses his way back up your body. Then Bucky slams his lips back over yours right as a second finger splits you open, and his thumb finds your clit. 

“Feel good?” He mutters, and you make a weak sound into his mouth. “Words-“

“So good.” You mumble, clenching around him slightly. “I- I like it- want more-“

Bucky hums, kissing the tip of your nose with mock charity, picking up the pace ever so slightly. “Can you tell me what kinda more you want?”

“I- I don’t-“ 

He slows down again, and you shake your head, your fingers tugging at his hair. 

“Bucky-“

“I want to hear you, pretty girl.” His drawl is lighting a small fire over your skin. “Tell me what you want-“

“I-“ He presses his thumb right over your clit, and gasp. “Mouth. Want your mouth. And your fingers. At- Shit- At the same time.”

Bucky’s brows raise, and if it wasn’t for the way his was still slowly pumping in and out of you, you would’ve pleased for the mattress to swallow you whole. “You want my mouth.”

You nod, and then add. “And the metal hand. Keep using the metal hand.”

“You- Jesus.” He shakes his head, and before you can try to take it back, he’s kissing you again. It’s getting rougher every time, and your hips jerk sightly as his fingers find that deep, spongey spot inside of you. 

“I- Bucky- Fuck-“

“Such a good girl, using your words.” He starts to kiss back down your body, following the trail of spots he left before with perfect precision. “Hold on, doll.”

Before you can register what’s happening, Bucky’s shoving your legs fully apart, and-

“Oh- Bucky-“

You arch off the bed as his mouth replaces his thumb, and the speed on his fingers triples in half a second. Pumping in and out of you at an inhuman pace, pressing up and stroking inside you as his tongue leaves small, teasing licks on your clit. His free arm is pinning you down with a splayed hand on your abdomen, and his lips are latched around you and sucking, and every time you tug on his hair it only spurs him on- 

It’s building so fast. The tight, hot coil in your gut. And it might be built up frustration from the gas, or the hypersensitivity of your body, or just fucking Bucky, but you’re- 

“Fuck- I- I’m gonna-“ You can’t get the full sentence out. Bucky doesn’t seem to care. “Bucky- Please-“

He understands. He hums against you and nods slightly, and you know he understands.

But he doesn’t slow down. 

And when his fingers press into your already burning g-spot and rub so fast it feels impossible, you cum with a high scream of his name. Stars cloud your vision and warmth crashes through your whole body, but when the fog clears, you’re not coming down.

Bucky’s not stopping. He’s finger-fucking you harder than before, his tongue moving with almost a fervor and his beard scraping at your inner thighs, and before you know what’s happening you’re flying over the edge again, and again, and soon you can’t tell where one orgasm is ending and the next one is rising. It’s all just a rolling, swirling storm of Bucky and heat and perfect, torturous pleasure. 

It’s only when you’re shaking below him that he pulls away. Leaving a soft, gentle kiss over your swollen clit before crawling back over you, and you’re a needy, dazed mess, but he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. 

“You doin’ okay down there?” He brushes a little hair from your face, and you nod weakly. 

“S’- Yeah.”

He grins. Your arousal is stuck to his beard. “Yeah?”

You hum, finding enough strength to trail your fingers down his chest. “You’re so big. And hot.”

“Thanks.” He says your name, and when you drag your gaze away from his, there’s a slight blush near his ears. “You look like a painting, doll.”

Your smile is love drunk and stupid, and you don’t care. “Thank you. Bucky?”

He hums, and you let your fingers trail a little lower.

“Can I?” You palm him over his pants—why the fuck are those still on—and he jaw clenches.

“You want to?” 

You nod and give him your sweetest smile, and he lets out a long, slow breath. 

“A- Just a little, but- Shit.” His eyes flutter closed as you squeeze him. “You’re the one who needs to attention, sweetheart-“

“I feel better.”

That earns you a flat look. “Really.”

You hum, your smile widening. “I feel good, Buck-“

“Uh huh.” Bucky rolls his thumb around your clit, his mouth lowering to rest back over yours. “I love you.”

You go slack beneath him in a second, and breathless sound escaping you as tears prick at your eyes and a giggle bubbles out of your lips, and Bucky looks way too fucking smug with himself. 

“Look at that.” He hums your name, and you pout up at him.

“That’s not fair, James-“

He groans, his cock jumping against your hand, and that’s a fun discovery.

Your mouth opens, and he silences you with a deep, rough kiss. 

“You can touch me a little, baby. Since you’ve been so good for me. But then,” he ruts into your hand, and you moan into his mouth. “I’m fuckin’ you until you can’t walk.”

He’s trying to distract you from the James thing. Trying to make you forget by rising back up and ripping his pants away, displaying his impossibly pretty cock—the perfect length and thick and making your mouth water—before stroking himself over you with a lazy grin. He’s trying to divert your attention by helping you sit up and guiding your hand up to replace his.

The strategy is working.

He fits so well in just your hand, and he’s making the most sinful, beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard as you pump him slowly. His head is thrown back, letting you suck and kiss at his neck, and deep rumbles roll from his chest whenever you squeeze the base of him or swipe your fingers over the angry head of him. You’re all but folded against him, grinding against his thigh as your hand picks up speed and he moans your name-

You’re being flipped back in a second. Bucky grabs your wrists and moves you back to the mattress with your hands pinned over your head and his mouth attacking yours. Bucky teases his cock against your dripping pussy for only a second—sliding between your folds and slapping it against your clit—and then he’s pushing into you with one, long thrust. 

“Shit-“ Bucky’s face drops to the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged against your skin. “You’re so tight, and- Fuck.”

He cuts himself off with another groan, and you understand. You didn’t know you could be this full. That someone could fit so right. And he’s staying so still, trying to let you adjust, but-

You clench around him, and Bucky hisses your name in your ear.

“Don’t do that, babygirl, you’re lookin’ to start something-“

You roll your hips, and Bucky draws over you with a narrowed gaze. 

“Askin’ for trouble, doll.” He gives you one, sharp thrust, and you gasp. “Yeah, I said you’d take it. And you told me you’d be good. You gonna keep bein’ good?”

You nod, not bothering to hide the eagerness on your face, and Bucky leans back down with one sharp thrust. 

“Say it.”

“I- I’ll be good-“

Another thrust, this one impossibly deeper. “Say you love me.”

“I- Bucky-“ His free hand is hiking your legs up, and he’s so big- “I love you-“

He groans, and his movements start to pick up. “Tell me- Fuck-“ His brow presses against yours. “Say you know I love you-“

“You love me, James, please-“

Tears are just starting to prick at your eyes when Bucky kisses you, and this one is borderline feral. The time for words seems to be over.

Now it’s just Bucky.

You can’t move, with his weight a heavy comfort over your body. He’s hammering into you and bruising against your humming and aching g-spot, but your hands remain trapped above you and whenever you try to bite at his lips he only moans and fucks you harder. Splitting you open on his cock as the bed squeaks below you, and twisting his on your thighs to rub furious circles on your clit, and you’re already ruined but now you’re never going to recover-

This orgasm hits you like a hurricane. Flipping the world on its head and drowning you in the high of Bucky, still pounding into your cunt and roaring your name against your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm, and there’s dirty praise falling out of his lips but it only sounds like a song. Then he’s kissing you down into the mattress and you can feel him painting your insides and inner thighs as he jerks a last few times, and a small, sweet aftershock hits you with a fucked-out sigh. 

Bucky’s face drops to your neck as he lets out a long, slow breath, and your smile might look fucking insane. 

You don’t really care. 

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you’re going to sit in the feeling of him as long as he lets you. Breathing him in and letting this last, small waves of pleasure wash away the rest of the pain. 

There’s still an ache between your thighs, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You might need help walking to the jet, in the morning. 

You’ll ask Bucky to carry you. And maybe ask him to keep putting that ache there, until he gets bored of you- 

“You feelin’ better?” Bucky mumbles in to your skin, and you swat that last thought far away. 

He might get bored of you. Right now, he’s still buried in your cunt and kissing a soft line over your neck. You won’t ruin this before you even have it. If you do have it. Maybe you’d just pressured him, and you’re going to lose your job, and Bucky, and he won’t get bored of you because he was never even interested in the first place-

Bucky mutters your name, pushing up over you, and you swallow. “What’re you thinking.”

“I-“ You shake your head, fixing your gaze on his neck. On the little bruises you left there. “Nothing.”

He chuckles, and there’s something so open on his face. Like all the smiles he’s given you in passing, but with a veil lifted. “You’re not a good liar doll.”

You frown at him. “Yes I am-“

“No,” Bucky lowers himself down, ghosting a soft kiss over your lips. “You’re not. You’re thinkin’ about something. Tell me.”

You shake your head, but wrap your arms around his neck all the same. You don’t want him to move away. Not yet. “It’s- It’s stupid-“

“Doubt that.”

“Bucky-“

He repeats your name back to you, his gaze driving right into yours that makes you somehow feel more bare than you already are. “If it’s- If you’re having second thoughts-“

“No!” Your voice is almost a yelp. “It’s- It’s not that-“

“Thank Christ.” Bucky lets out a slow sigh, his grin a little sheepish. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry-“

“No, you’re not.” He squeezes a hand on your hip, and you all but melt into the mattress. “Tell me, pretty girl. What are you thinking.”

“I- I’m-“ He’s still inside you. And when you squirm slightly, his cock jumps. “Bucky-“

“Shit-“ He groans, and suddenly his hand is pinning you down, stopping your movements. “Nope. No distracting me.”

“But-“

“I won’t fuck you again until you tell me.”

Again. 

He’s going to fuck you again. 

And some of the drug must still be in your system, because your face splits back into a wide, easy smile, and Bucky raises his brows.

“Did you…” He tilts his head slightly. “Were you worried we were done, doll?”

You nod, not trusting your voice, and Bucky sighs.

“Did you miss the part when I said I love you-“

“No. Told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” Another kiss. This one softer, and a little more on your cheek. “We’ve both been kinda stupid today. Think I’d like to keep being stupid together, though. If you’re up for it.”

You blink at him. “Like, together together?”

He nods. “You can keep your job. I’ll do all my own shit, or we can get a second admin who’s not fucking me-“

“But what if you fall in love with that admin too?” You whisper, keeping your smile wide on your face, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Nothin’ is coming close to you.”

You can’t stop the clench that his deep voice and promise spark in you, and a low groan is pulled from Bucky’s throat.

“You want a round two?”

You nod, and he grunts, rolling his hips slightly. 

“Tell me what you want, baby-“

“You. All of you.” Your hands move to cup Bucky’s face. “This and… that. Please.”

He nods, and the last kiss is just as slow as the first. Deep and gentle, filled with the knowledge that now, you have the time in the world.

“You’re mine?” He mutters, and you don’t know why it’s a question. 

You have been for months. Maybe, even without knowing it, your whole life.

“Yes.” Your voice is soft against his lips, and Bucky grins.

“Good.” He nips on your lower lip, and the gas might be gone, but you don’t think anything about him is ever going to make you not want more. “Cause I’m yours.”

End Note: his hair in the post-credit scene.... nature is healing.

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[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

Such a wondrous and painful thing to be loved

Remmick x female!reader

Warnings; somnophilia, non-con touching, non-con oral sex, messy kissing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, bodily fluids, blood exchange, SELF HARM, SUICIDE, murder, vampire transformation, mentally unstable character, bad parent-child relationships, awful family dynamics, stalking, obsession. Summary: Remmick survives that night in Mississippi and wonders around the world for decades. Until he sees you, a quiet girl from a dysfunctional family. Word count: 11.8 k A/N: very little proofreading, sorry if there are mistakes. Don’t forget the check the warnings pls.

“Get the damn suitcase girl.” Your mother’s loathsome voice echoed in the open field as your father was walking back and forth between the old car and the house. You picked up the suitcase from your mother’s hand and looked up to the house your parents bought just few days ago. Your dad was swearing under his breath about the amount of things your mother packed, and your mother was screaming in the house about how everything was broken.

You took a deep breath as you watched your father enter the house to scream back at her. When you were left alone outside, you looked around the field. You were middle of nowhere with closest neighbours an hour away with car. No cars drove past. No electricity. It was quite literally pure silence. Nothing at all. The thought sent shivers down your spine as the cool wind surrounded you. The weather was chilling out here, grey clouds covering the sun light that barely reached the surface.

Your hair covered your vision for a moment with the wind and you felt like seeing a silhouette in the horizon, near that one big tree that was slowly dying yards away from your new home. When you were seeing clearly again, there was no one. You blinked once or twice before your feet moved to enter the house.

“Cannot believe you dragged us with you into this shithole.” Your mother spoke aloud, almost like a scream as she was trying to move the old, creaking rocking chair into the corner of the living room. You moved quickly to help her which she responded only with a grunt.

“Ya can go back to your own shithole if you want, bitch.” Your father said from the kitchen that was right next to the living room. You saw him standing next to the window and smoke his cheap cigarettes. Your mother said something under her breath which you did not pay attention to.

That was your normal at this point. Since you knew yourself, your father and mother hated one another. Yet none of them had dared to part their union as they knew no one could put up with their shit as each other did. You did not know if there was a time they loved one another. Maybe it was before you came into this world. You were not asking questions about their relationship or your family dynamics anymore. The questions were not fixing them, only giving you headaches.

You all sat down and ate dinner together. A dinner that was full of your silence and their bickering. After dinner everyone found a place for themselves in the old house and ended the night.

You had chosen the bedroom on the second floor, end of the corridor. It was a small room with a double sized bed, a small wardrobe and a very tiny desk that looked like it was about to collapse. You walked to the window that was at the foot of the bed and saw the backyard. Like before, it was just nothingness for kilometres. The sun was setting, and the chilling weather was getting proper cold.

You changed into your nightgown and got into bed as moonlight already filled the room. You knew you were going to struggle to sleep in your new bed, new room. The place gave you the creeps but you had no other choice. You were already missing your life in the city and would go back if you could. If your whole family wasn’t searched by the money collectors your father was in debt to. You knew about his gambling and alcohol addiction. And you knew how it always got him and rest of you in trouble. Your family was always in debt to somebody. A friend, a neighbour, the bank, the boss… but it was a different matter when they were trying to get either their money or your life. So the only choice left was collecting everything you owned and move into a countryside house that your parents bought in the time of life and death.

You had no friends to tell about your departure, no boyfriend to give you a goodbye hug. No one cared if you just disappeared or died. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. And your breathing slowed down with the exhaustion of the day.

—

A hand was on your thigh. The touch was cold as ice and soft as feather. It went up and down on your skin, caressing so gently that you felt your breathing get stuck in your throat. Then you felt nails, sharp nails like claws dig into your skin, deep enough to draw blood. You hissed with the pain before a hand covered your mouth. You opened your eyes immediately, only to be greeted by a pair of red eyes looking down at you.

Your heart was beating so fast that you wanted to cry with the pain in your chest. The hand on your thigh moved up, until it reached your stomach then your breasts. Cold, cruel fingers pinched your perked nipple, twisted it until your body trembled in pain again. The red eyes were so close to your face that you could not see the owners of them.

That was a demon on top of you, you were sure. A demon from hell, came to ruin you. Tears spilled from your eyes and dropped to his hand that was covering the half of your face. You heard him hiss when your tears touched his skin. Then you felt him press himself down, letting his body go on top of yours. You were sure you were going to die tonight, in seconds maybe. He was going to kill you or your heart was going to fail.

“Do you think you know what it means to be loved?” He leaned in closer, until there was only inches left between your eyes and his own. His whisper came in like a dagger, cutting, butchering trough your senses. You felt your skin tingle and burn. Your tears were burning your eyes and his touch on your skin was making you shake like you were freezing.

This was something unholy. This was something from hell. This was something that made you feel unclean.

“It is such a precious thing to be loved.” He spoke like a snake hissing. His words and his eyes were making you want to cry. Was this a punishment because you never knew how to love? Was God this unfair when he was the one who cursed you with this life?

His hand traveled to your throat and his finger wrapped around your delicate neck. The pressure made your breath get stuck in your lungs, unable to escape. It was then, the hand that covered your mouth lifted. You could not speak, you could not breath. Your lips were parted, your tongue slightly sticking out with the hope of getting any oxygen. Instead you felt something foreign on your tongue. Something that felt like sin.

His tongue was on yours. He was not kissing you, no. It was just his tongue entering your mouth and taking the last breath in your system away. Unlike his hands, his tongue was warm. So warm that it made your loins burn. His body between your legs, pressing himself hard against you and his warm tongue in your mouth made your underwear get wet in seconds. His tongue played with yours, his spit dripping into your mouth and making you open your lips more.

Your tongue traced over his lips and his teeth. You winced in pain when his sharp teeth poked the flesh of your mouth. Then you realised what you were doing. This was not a man on top of you, it was the devil. You heard him laugh when your body trembled under him in terror.

“What a beautiful girl waiting to be loved.” He whispered and you opened your eyes, drenched in sweat and moonlight filling your room, making you almost blind.

You sat ip on your bed in rush, hands finding your throat as your breathing echoed in your new room. Your whole body was burning and your legs were shaking. Your fingers found your underwear, and met with the wetness of your arousal, bringing the rosy tint of shame onto your cheeks.

You looked at your window, it was still dark outside early in the morning. Was it all a dream? No, a nightmare. A nightmare that felt too real. A nightmare that messed with your body. You threw the covers away and got up. Your gaze immediately found the blood stains on your white nightgown. You stopped breathing as you lifted the skirt up. There they were. Wounds that were freshly cut on your legs, blood smeared around them. Your heart started to beat faster, your fight or flight instincts kicking in. How could this be happening?

You jumped in the spot when your mother’s voice echoed in the house, reaching up to the second floor and you. She was calling your name. What time it was? Barely 5 in the morning and she was wide awake which was unusual.

“Come down, help me with this shit.” She spat out as you heard a loud knock at the front door. You quickly changed into your daily clothes and tossed the bloody nightgown into the corner of the room.

As you were going downstairs, you heard your mother and father talking, rather arguing about something again. They were at the entrance, the door wide open, wind blowing into the house and making the long white curtains of the living room float. They did not pay attention to you as you stood next to stairs and listened to their conversation about the kitchen sink not working. Then someone appeared behind your father, a man holding a box. Your father moved to side with the noise behind him and you saw him have the biggest smile you have ever seen in your entire life. Your cold, piece of shit of a father was smiling. Genuinely smiling at this man at the door.

“Come on in son.” Your father said and you looked at the man carefully for the first time. He had dark blonde hair, blue eyes that pierced trough your soul and a smirk that made the hairs on your neck stand up. He did not look at your father, or your mother. For those few seconds his gaze found you and never left you. You wanted to run up to your room and hide under your blankets. You wanted to get behind your mother and beg your father to shut the door to this man’s face.

He stepped into the house and left the box next to the door. Then your father turned to you and your mother, his hand on the man’s shoulder, patting softly. He was so gentle with him that it felt strange. It was like you were seeing another side of your father. It was like this was not your father at all.

“This is Remmick.” Your father uttered the words and your chest got tight. “He lives in the town. He helped me carry some things and gave me a lift.”

“My mama always said that I should help my neighbours, sir.” He said, and hearing his voice made you want to vomit.

“What a good son she had raised.” Your mother said, cheerfully, her earlier grumpiness long gone. Remmick smiled shyly at your mother's words and he kept his smile on his face until he looked at you again.

“My daughter.” Your father introduced you to Remmick. He gave you a small nod, his smile still stretching his lips and his eyes shining with something you could not name. He did not look genuinely happy nor kind. He looked like he had something sinister in his eyes. The way he gazed at you made your stomach twist.

“Hello.” You said, your voice cold compared to your parents who were watching the interaction between you two.

“Hi.” He said, his voice low and deep, coming from his throat. You felt chills run down your spine. “Nice to meet ya.” He extended his hand out.

You looked at his hand, your throat going dry. Then your palm found his own, his fingers hugging your hand and holding tight. Your lips parted with need to suck a breath in. The coldness of his hands made your body shake and the make the pit in your belly grow. It felt like he opened a black hole somewhere in you, and it was swallowing everything.

“Come, have breakfast with us, son.” Your father said as he kept patting Remmick’s shoulder. For a moment you saw Remmick frown in annoyance, as if your father disrupted something. Then his mask came back on, a smile widening on his lips. You looked at his lips for a second. They were pale and looked dry. You felt your mouth water.

“I cannot sir, I gotta head back. Thank you. Welcome to town.” He said as he escaped from your father’s hands and stepped outside. The sun was slowly rising and bringing the new day. Three of you stood at the entrance, your father and mother looking at him with a smile as he walked to his truck. You could only watch as suspicion and fear creeped into your heart. You heard your mother and father walk back into house as his truck’s engine started to work.

Before he drove away, he looked back at the door. When his deep blue eyes found your figure, standing, looking at him with curious eyes, he smiled again. A smile that was vastly different from the ones he gave to your parents. You felt breeze hit your skin as he looked up and down at you, like some wild animal examining his prey and trying to decide if you were worth the hunt. You shut the door as your breathing quickened. The sounds of his wheels filled your ear.

After breakfast you picked up your book and notebook, made your way outside. You could not stay in the house, with your parents who seemed to go back to their usual selves after Remmick left. For the whole breakfast, he was the only thought that occupied your mind. You could not erase the image of him looking at you, deep into your eyes and holding your hand in his own cold ones.

It was strange, very strange. For some reason meeting him right after waking up from that horrible nightmare made you feel sick. Your mother made some comments about you not helping her settling down in the new house but you did not say anything back as you left. You looked around the empty countryside. The sun was at the top, burning mercilessly and making it difficult to breath. It was a nice day compared the yesterday. You held your bag in your shoulder tighter and started to walk on the sidewalk. Your attention got caught by the big, old tree that was few acres away again.

You sat down by the tree and leaned against the trunk. It was nice under the shade. You grabbed your book and continued from the chapter you left. The sweet autumn wind cooled the heat of your body and the sounds of birds filled your ears. This was peaceful, you thought. Far away from the arguments and screams of your parents, far away from the questions that busied your mind, far away from the dangers of the world. It was just you and the silence.

“Hi.” You jumped with the voice of the stranger that came from somewhere close. When you turned around quickly, it was a young man in a jumpsuit and large hat, looking at you under his long eyelashes and smiling awkwardly.

“What the hell?” Your voice came out shocked and scared when you stood up and took a step away from him. His expression changed immediately and a look of concern filled the lines of his face.

“Sorry for scaring you.” He said as he took his hat off and pressed it against his chest in the kindest way possible. “I live down the town. I’m the preacher’s son.”

His accent was strong and from the clothes he was wearing, you could see that he was from this area. You took a deep breath before you introduced yourself.

“I’m Jimmy. Nice to meet you.” He said and looked at you shyly.

“You scared the hell out of me Jimmy.” You said as you sat back down. He giggled at your words before he took his place next to you.

“Sorry. I just got excited when I saw a new face around here. Not many people come to countryside these days.” He pointed at the open field as he spoke. You could see your house from the point you were at. And it felt liberating to be away from it.

“Is that so Preacher’s son?” You said with a small smile on your face. Jimmy laughed with your words before he looked at you. His eyes were emerald green and his eyelashes were dark as night. His nose was straight just like his defined jawline. You could see the freckles and little sunburn over his cheeks. God, you thought to yourself, he was very much beautiful.

“Are y’all planning on staying long?” He asked. You shook your head to confirm.

“It looks like it.” You answered as you looked back at the house. The thought of staying at this place with your parents for long time sounded dreadful.

“You should be careful around this place.” You frowned with his words. Then the pit in your stomach seemed to come back when you looked at him again and saw his shy, playful expression had faded away.

“What is that mean?” He seemed to not to know how to answer your question. Yet he knew he had to answer it now since he changed the mood of the conversation.

“How to say… there are things in this town, I mean that’s what people around says. I personally never saw something but we always lived by some rules.” He took a deep breath and pulled out a cigarette from his jumpsuit’s pocket before he started to speak again. “Don’t let anyone in that comes to your door after sunset. Don’t even open the door. Don’t talk to them.”

The seriousness of his voice sent shivers down your spine. He took a deep breath from his cigarette. You opened your mouth to speak yet no words came out of your mouth. What was that mean? Who could knock on your door after sunset when there was no one living around? Or why shouldn’t you let them in? Were people that dangerous in this area? You felt cool breeze shake the branches of the tree above you.

“It’s getting late. You should head back.” Jimmy said as he tossed the finished cigarettes to the ground. He got up and offered his hand for you to hold. His calloused hands felt warm against your skin. He grabbed your book and bag before he smiled and looked at your house.

“I can walk you home.” He said as you were fixing your dress. You shook your head to decline his polite gesture.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want to bother you. Thanks for the company.” You said before you started to walk away. You could feel his eyes on your back as you got away from the tree. Before you were not too far away, he called out your name.

“Remember the things I said. Maybe it’s just superstitions but it wouldn’t hurt to follow them.” He said as he put his large straw hat back onto his dark brunette, wavy hair. The sun was setting and the orange lights were washing all over you. For a moment you saw his green eyes shine under the sun light and realised he could be one of the most beautiful humans you ever saw.

“I will.” You said with a small smile and walked away from him and the tree.

The days were coming to an end quickly with the upcoming winter and you hated it. It was getting dark very early and it was not getting any brighter until it was late in the morning. There was nothing to do other than reading, writing and sleeping. The days were warm enough yet the night was freezing cold.

After dinner with your parents who seemed to be very calm after you got back, you found yourself in your room, in your bed again. The blood covered nightgown was still in the corner, tossed around on the dirty floor. You could not bring yourself to pick it up and see the small blood stains again. For some reason not seeing them made them feel unreal and did not remind you of the nightmare. You got under the covers, bringing your book with you. it was easier to fall asleep when you were not thinking of other things.

As you were embraced by the comfortable arms of sleep, you felt like floating. There was a noise that sounded like wind in your ears. Every breath that you took in, you felt like rising up and up. The weight of your body was not there. The weight of your thoughts weren’t there. Everything was light as feather. There was a warmth all over your body. There was warmth between your legs. The tingling sensation under your belly made you squeeze your thighs in need for some sort of friction. You could feel yourself getting wet and your clit throbbing in need.

Then came the warmth of something unfamiliar. The wet, warm thing went between your folds and made you shriek like an animal in heat. You threw your head back when the unfamiliar tongue licked up and down between your folds. The lips that wrapped around your clit in the most delicious way brought you into the high levels of pleasure. He sticked his tongue into your clenching, awaiting hole, his skilful muscle moving in and out as if it was made for it. A loud moan escaped your mouth when his nose was nudging against your clit. The pleasure was too much that you tried to close your legs and get away to breath properly.

Yet his strong hands grabbed your hips harshly and he pressed his head deeper into your cunt. He was just breathing in your scent and getting drunk with your taste. You were about to pass out with his tongue deep in you. Then suddenly the tip of his tongue hit that one spot that made you scream until your vision went completely black and you stoped breathing. Your body was shaking uncontrollably as you tried to catch your breath and open your eyes.

It felt like you were in another dimension. It was so dark in your room that you could not even see your own hands.

“Look at me.” He said, his voice low and deep in the darkness of night. Your gaze met with pair of red eyes and the bliss of your extraordinary orgasm left you in seconds. You wanted to scream for help and get away from him. Yet your body was not moving nor a sound was coming out of your mouth.

“When you were young you wished that someone loved you. All those nights you cried yourself to sleep as a little child and expected someone to come to your room.” He said as he leaned closer to you, his cheek pressed against yours and his lips right next to your ear.

“Expected someone to ease your pain and soothe your heart. Yet no one came.” He whispered, his voice is cold. You could hear the smirk in his tone. He was smiling as he spoke your pain out. You wanted to throw up and cry until you could not move anymore.

“No one loved you. But I do.” He said as the weight of his body suffocated you. There was a musky smell that came from his body. It was dominating and off putting. He smelled like death and it was filling all your senses. Only thing you could feel on your exposed skin was him. Only thing you could smell was him. Only thing you could hear was his cruel words and only thing you could taste was him when his lips found yours. His mouth tasted like you and every life he had consumed to this day. You kissed him back with a hunger that scared you. His warm tongue entered your mouth just like it entered your hole moments ago.

His sharp teeth cut your lips and tongue yet you did not care. All you wanted was kissing him until he consumed you too. There was an urge in you that wanted to be eaten by him. You imagined him feasting on your flesh, his teeth crashing into your bones and your beautiful, thick blood flowing down his chin as he ate. The image made you moan into his mouth.

“I’ll come for you, little dove.” He said and you gasped as you rose in your bed from your sleep. Your hands came up your chest immediately to ease your fast breathing and heart beats. It was broad daylight outside. The sunlight was creeping into your room and warming your skin. You just looked at the white covers of your bed as the moments from your dream filled your mind. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you remembered his red eyes looking at you from between your legs. Your body trembled when you remembered him looking down at you as you crawled underneath him, your mouth covered in your own blood.

These dreams were getting so realistic that you could feel the effects of them all day. Your gaze met with the tossed nightgown in the corner. You wondered if you were getting possessed by some kind of demon or you were just going insane in the countryside. The second option seemed more reasonable.

You walked downstairs to be only greeted by your mom smoking in the kitchen, sitting by herself with the most sorrowful expression you have ever seen.

“Where’s dad?” You asked as you made yourself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. You heard her scoff as you sat down in front of her. Her under eyes were purple and hallow, her cheeks sucked in and her face pale like she was sick.

“God knows where that bastard is.” She said, her voice stern and angry. She finished her cigarette and lit another one right after. You looked at her with a confused expression as you ate your cereal.

“Did he not come back this morning?” Your mother nodded as she looked out of the window. Why this was a big deal this time? He would always leave and not come back for some days, drink himself to death on the streets and get into some sort of trouble.

“I’m sure he will be back by afternoon.” You said to reassure your mother. But she did not look like she was convinced. She just kept looking out of the window as her cigarette burned.

And in fact your father did not come back. At first you did not pay much attention to it. It was actually nice without him in the house. There was silence and no arguments which was something you craved for. But your mother grew restless every passing hour. She wanted to call everyone possibly could know where he was yet the phone wasn’t working. You were not surprised that there was no signal out here. Even though your mother was losing her mind over this for some reason, you did not mind, truly.

Until sun was setting and the countryside got swallowed by dark again, days after your father’s disappearance. Those few days you could truly sleep with no nightmares unlike your mother who did not even eat something healthy. That evening your mother took a sleeping pill and locked herself into her room. You were down in the living room, reading your book. You could not get yourself to sleep, your mind now occupied by your father and his strange absence that took too long this time.

It was quiet in the house. Yet it did not make you feel comfortable or peaceful as it usually did. There was not a single sound even outside of the house. No birds singing, no foxes screaming, not even crickets. It was just pure darkness covering your house. You could not look out of the window as you just kept reading your book. Your head down and facing away from the entrance.

Someone knocked on the door.

The sudden noise made you jump on the couch, your book falling into your lap. Your head turned to the closed door immediately. After the knock there was a silence as if both sides were trying to hear something from behind. You slowly got up and walked to the door. Your hand was reaching for the handle before the person at the other side knocked again. This time it was louder and harsher. You saw the door wiggle in its frame with the amount of force. You gasped and took a step away with shaky knees. A familiar voice from the other side called out your name.

“It’s me, dad.” Your father said with a cracked voice that sent shivers down your spine.

“Dad?” You asked as you got close to the door again. You heard his raggedy breaths.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, open the door and let me in.” He said, the words coming out of his mouth rushed and breathless. He sounded like he was in pain and the thought made your heart ache. Your hand went to the handle again, and your fingers grabbed the cold metal tight.

“Do not open the door!” You heard Jimmy shout from outside suddenly. Your hand on the handle froze as you heard screams and grunts on the other side. Your father was swearing, Jimmy was swearing back. You rushed to the window that was facing the front porch. Your father was on top of Jimmy, his face close to his neck. Jimmy was holding your dad away from himself by trying to push him trough his shoulders. You saw them rolling over the porch, fighting like animals. You could not speak or move.

Jimmy threw your father away from himself and rushed back to his small van. Your father distracted by the fall, his gaze found you watching them trough the window. He run towards you, his hands pressing against the glass, alongside his face right in front of yours. You felt like your world shatter, when you were greeted by a pair of red eyes looking back at you. Red just like the ones that gave you sleepless nights and brought endless amount of shame to you. Your breath got stuck in your throat as your father looked like some starving feral animal with drool flowing down his chin, his teeth sharp abnormally, and his eyes mirroring a demon.

“You used to listen to me when you were my little girl.” He said, his voice now sounding foreign to your ears. You shook your head as tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“Be my good little girl again and let your father in before this fucker-“ his words got cut with a sound of gunshot. You felt like your heart stopped beating. Your father’s eyes were locked with yours before more gunshots were heard. Last one was straight to his head, shattering his brain and making it explode right in front of your face. Blood and brain pieces hit the glass that separated you and your father. His lifeless body sunk into the ground. You could not look away as his blood was forming a pool beneath him.

Jimmy walked to him, the shotgun on his left hand, and a piece of sharp wood in his right. He didn’t look at you as he kneeled by your father’s body and stabbed him trough his heart with the wood. Your father’s body trembled, shaking as Jimmy sinked the wood deeper into his chest. When he was satisfied with his work, he looked at you for the first time since you heard him. There were drops of sweat flowing down his temples, his eyes looking tired and his face covered in blood. You didn’t know if it was his own blood or your father’s. He stood up and looked at you from the exact spot your father did moments ago.

Your tears were making your vision blurry. Your jaw was shaking and you did not know how long your legs could keep you standing. This was all a nightmare for sure. A very realistic one that you would always have since you came to this place. Jimmy gave you a look, as if he was pitying you.

“Do not open the door to anyone until sunrise.” He said before he walked to his van. You silently watched him walk away from your dead father’s body and you. Your chest was aching and your tears were keep flowing down your face without your control.

You couldn’t look at your father for last time before you started to walk upstairs. Your steps were silent, like a ghost as you walked passed your mother’s room and entered your own. Window was open. The chilling wind of the night was filling your room. The bed sheets were cold and your pillow was too hard to sleep on. It felt like laying on spikes. Your body was hurting, your soul was hurting. Yet there was no thought on your mind. Your piece of shit of a father was dead.

You woke to an eery silence of the house. You rose from your bed, catching a glimpse of your swollen eyes and purple under eyes in the mirror before you left your room. The long corridor of the second floor was empty, as it always was. You walked to your mother’s room and knocked on her door. Yet she didn’t answer. She was probably still asleep or didn't want to be disturbed, you thought to yourself. Then made your way to downstairs.

It was just like how you left last night. Your book was on the couch, next to your mother’s favourite blanket and your father’s favourite mug that you used to drink tea last night. You walked to the kitchen to open the window. The weather was cloudy and rainy. You wished to see a glimpse of sunlight yet walked away disappointed. You checked the fridge to make some breakfast for you and your mother yet the fridge was empty.

You sighed with annoyance before you walked upstairs again, to alert your mother of lack of food in the house and ask to go to shopping to town. You knocked on her door. There was no response. The pit in your stomach was there again. It was eating away your insides with worry and fear. You slowly opened the door and stepped into her room. She wasn’t here. Her bed was tidy, as if she never slept on it last night. The windows were shut, the air was suffocating with the lack of oxygen. You saw her glass of water, untouched on the nightstand next to her bed.

Your steps were slow and steady as you walked to the small bathroom in her room. The door was shut yet you could hear a sound of water dripping. You frowned in confusion as you reached for the handle. The first thing you saw was blood. The blood mixed into water that was flowing down the bathtub reached at your feet in seconds. Then the smell. The metallic, heavy smell of blood hit your nose. The sight of it came last. Your mother, your own mother was laying in the overflowing bathtub, in her own blood, her eyes wide open just like her mouth, facing the ceiling and looking into nothingness. You saw her slit wrists on either side of her, blood still dripping down in a thick form. You wanted to throw up yet nothing came out from your mouth. No words, no scrams, no cry. You silently looked and looked at her.

There was a strange silence in the house. Silence was something you had always craved. Yet in this moment you wished nothing more than the chaos that was always present in your household since you knew yourself. You wished to hear your parent’s argument again. Wished to carry your drunk father to his bed with your mother’s help. You wished to separate your mother and the neighbours fight. You wished to scream back at them when they decided to mess with you after getting bored of messing with one another. You craved for what you always knew. Was it possible to ask for the pain you knew because the comfort was a too much of a stranger?

You walked back to your room, your body was about to collapse. You sat on your bed. Maybe minutes, maybe for hours. You just sat there. Your eyes were on the nightgown that was tossed in the corner. You sat there until sun was setting, until darkness of the evil came rushing back to the countryside. You sat there until someone knocked on your door. The sound from downstairs echoed in your house. Your heart beats fastened again, your lips going dry.

“It’s me Jimmy. I came to take you to town. I spoke with my father. We’re concerned for ya.” He said as you walked downstairs silently. You stood right in front of the door, your heart at your throat, your palms sweating and drops of sweat flowing down your back.

“You said never open the door to anyone after sunset.” You spoke for the first time since yesterday, your throat hurting as the words left your mouth. You heard him grunt and swear under his breath. You looked around your living room to see if there was something you could use to defend yourself.

“Not me, I won’t hurt you. Would you not like me to take you somewhere safe? He might come any moment.” He said with clear worry and fear in his voice. You wondered what he was so scared of after he killed your father right in front of your eyes. What if it was also him who killed your mother? Why would he want to destroy your family, your life like this?

‘How to say… there are things in this town.’

His words echoed in your head. Maybe the things were him from the very start? You felt like throwing up when he knocked the door loudly. He was trying to open it. The tears formed in your eyes when you felt the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Open the damn door and let me help you. You will die out here.” He screamed as he tried to break the door by kicking it. Your feet carried you to the kitchen, to the backyard door that you kept shut since you moved here. You tried to open it yet it was locked. Jimmy threw another kick to the door and the lock broke down immediately, letting him in. You turned around and saw him standing at the entrance, his shotgun in his hand, looking at you who was struggling to open the back door. As he was about to step into the house, you screamed in terror and forced the door more. But he didn't come in. You dint hear any footsteps approaching you or his voice calling your name.

You slowly looked back at the front door over your shoulder. He wasn't there. There was in fact no one looking at you or stepping into the house. It was just darkness and cool wind blowing in. You walked to the door after grabbing a knife from the kitchen. You would kill him if you had to, if he didn't shoot you first. The porch was empty. His van was parked in front of your house, engine on yet no one at the driver seat. The small light at your porch was flashing fast but weakly.

You walked away from the porch, made your way to the right side of your house that was facing the main road to the town. You kept your back on the wall and moved silently, checking your back and corners every second to see if he was coming back or hiding somewhere. Was he trying to lure you outside so it would be easier to kill you? You shook with fear and cold weather. You weren’t feeling pain or hunger anymore. You wondered if you were going to survive this night and see the run rise one more time.

There were no cars passing. Was it possible to walk to town all that way and find someone to help you? Your eyes found someone in the darkness. There was someone standing next to the tree that you sat by just a day ago. He was shorter than Jimmy and had broader shoulders. Yet it could be just you trying to convince yourself. You wanted to walk to him and beg him to help you to get away from that psycho.

“There you are.” You heard Jimmy’s voice right next to you as you were still looking at the strange figure. You screamed in terror and started to run away before he could catch you. The man next to the tree turned to look at you with the shouts and screams. It was this Remmick guy. You felt relief settle into you as you run towards him. He smiled when he saw you, his eyes not even looking at what was behind you. He opened his arms as you got close. You were crying your lungs out when you found yourself in his arms.

“No! Get away from him!” Jimmy raged when he saw Remmick holding you against him. Remmick’s grip was tight and cold. His body against yours cooled you down, your breathing going back to normal and your heart beats getting slow. You felt Remmick move your body slightly.

“No, no, no preacher’s boy. We wouldn’t want to have you hurt this precious girl.” He said as his hands went up and down on your back. You took a deep breath of calmness when your face found a comfortable place in the crook of his neck. Just like you remembered, he smelled strange yet this time this smell brought you the feeling of safety and security. You didn’t question why you remembered how he smelled like. He giggled when you snuggled against him more. You were going to survive.

“You made me work hard for you, little dove.” He said, his voice calm yet playful. The peace lasted short when you heard the last words he said. You wanted to pull away yet he didn't let you. You were not thinking of Jimmy anymore. Only thing you could think of was Remmick. As if he was conquering your mind, your senses and making you unable to think of anything else.

“It is such a precious, magnificent thing to be loved.” He whispered to your ear. His warm, flaming lips moving down to your neck. You felt him leave a small, soft kiss on the skin of your neck. His kiss, his touch didn't feel unfamiliar. Your body knew his touch, your body knew his words.

“W-what?” You managed to bubble a word out of your mouth. He laughed at your state, his chest falling and rising against you.

“The preacher’s son Jimmy wanted to be your hero. But I cannot let him, unfortunately.” He said, his mouth right on your pulse. You felt your heart sink when you felt his sharp teeth on your skin. These were the teeth you had already felt on you for nights. They were not dreams. It was him.

“I met a preacher’s son long time ago. They’re always, how to say… interesting. Maybe he is still out there somewhere.” He said, his voice curious, still playful, scratching your brain. His arms got tighter around you, until you could’t breath anymore. You held his arms, tried to break away from him yet you couldn't do anything against his inhuman strength. You wished that Jimmy would shoot both of you in this moment.

Your vision went black when you felt sharp, stinging, burning pain on your neck. It was so unbearable that you couldn't even scream when his teeth sinked deep into you. You could feel blood flowing out of you, filling his mouth and rest spilling down his chin. The coldness of his fangs burned the fresh wound on your neck. The air that was hitting the wetness of your blood made you dizzy. He sucked on your neck like he was starving as his hands roamed all over your body.

That wasn't a demon or it wasn't you getting possessed by some kind of entity. It wasn't your brain making up things either. It was Remmick from the very beginning. You realised it was him Jimmy was warning you about. It was his voice that was making your heart skip a beat in the dead of the night. It was his hands touching your body and making you tremble under him.

“You taste better than any mortal I have ever tasted, little dove.” His voice echoed in your mind. You didn’t know if he was actually talking or you were going insane at this point. Your legs gave up but his arms held you up in the air. You were floating in his arms as he started to kiss the wound on your neck. The pain was too much that your heart beats slowed down alongside your breathing. Your ears were ringing, your mouth going dry.

“I’ll love you forever.” He whispered as your consciousness slipped out of your body. Everything went black. No sound, no light. It was pure nothingness. Your senses were dull and you couldn’t feel your body. Everything was too light around you. There were no feelings. You were not scared anymore. Nor you were calm.

When you opened your eyes again, the darkness of the night seemed brighter than any other time. Your eyes scanned the field, seeing small animals hidden amongst haystacks. Your ears filled with the sounds of small crickets, birds breathing on the tree branches, people laughing in the distance, your mother’s blood dripping down in the bathtub. You felt the dryness of your throat first. It hurt so much that you wanted to scream out. Remmick rocked you gently in his arms. He was saying something yet you could not focus on his words.

The delicious smell of him hit your nose so suddenly, with the wind carrying his scent to you. You pushed and manage to get Remmick away from you. There he was. The preacher’s son. The poor boy Jimmy who only wanted to help you and risked his life for you. He was standing not so far away from you, frozen and shaking in fear. You wondered if your eyes were shining with the soul of devil within you. Remmick was in you from now on, from the moment he sinked his teeth into. From the first moment he laid his eyes on you. From the first moment he tasted your skin.

You took a step towards Jimmy only for him to raise the shotgun to you. You did not care if you were going to die. The urge to feed yourself was so strong, almost blinding. You took another step, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit your shoulder. It felt like a bee sting that was spreading over your flesh. Then the bullet slowly fell off the wound, dropping to ground. You heard Jimmy gasp, start to whisper prayers under his breath as you walked to him. Your hands found his shoulders, forced him to get closer.

“Jimmy…” You almost pleaded as your teeth cut trough his skin. He screamed and tried to push you away in terror, yet everything was happening too fast. Before you could even stop yourself from harming him, his tasty blood touched your tongue. And you felt a wave of energy travel trough your body. Life was breathed back into you with his sweet liquid of life. You felt it burn trough your throat and mix into your system in seconds. Every drop of his blood was burning your insides in the most pleasurable way possible. You drank it like madwoman. It was dripping from your mouth, escaping from the corner of your mouth. You tried to catch it as if your life was depended on it, licking everything possible. You were so hungry, the feeling in your stomach hurting you, making your headache and your fangs sizzle with soreness.

“That’s enough little dove. You drained the poor boy.” Remmick said as he laughed. He wrapped his one arm around your waist and picked you up easily. The lifeless body of Jimmy dropped to ground as he slipped away from your grasp. You saw him fall, his face pale, his lips colourless, his once cheerful, shy eyes looking dead more than ever. You jaw dropped, tears filled your eyes as Remmick carried you away as if you were piece of feather. You tried to push him away, get away from his touch but he looked unbothered by your attempts.

“We can go back to your house and spend the day there until sunset. What do you say little dove?” He asked, his face close to yours, his eyes twitching with mischief. He disgusted you beyond imagination with the smirk on his face.

“Get away from me!” You said, your voice coming out like an animal growl. His eyebrows raised in curiosity when you tried to scratch his face. He put you down suddenly when two of you were on the porch, holding your arms tight enough to break your now very strong bones. Every sensation was still too new. You could still smell Jimmy’s blood, still hear the noises coming from afar, still feel Remmick’s bite burn and ache.

“I have waited for you for so long.” Remmick whispered with a gentle voice you didn't expect to hear from him. His fingers found your face, caressing your cheek that was wet because of your tears. His fingertips that once felt ice cold now felt like they were belong on your skin.

“Wondered around for centuries to find someone like myself only to find no one. Until you.” He said as his eyes never left your face. He was looking deep into your eyes, seeing your deprived soul behind them. You wanted to get away yet your body was frozen as if he put some spell on you. What was this nightmare? Had God abandoned you in this countryside? Had he left you into the arms of this devil?

“I am no devil.” Remmick said, mirroring your words. “I only have love to give you, little dove.”

“You have taken my humanity from me.” You said, your voice shaking with sorrow and rage. The soft look on his face disappeared in seconds. His hand on your face grabbed your cheek tight, bringing your face closer to his own.

“What a humanity that was?! That humanity killed my people, destroyed cities, burned children, enslaved men. There’s nothing glories about that humanity that you grieve.” His words were full of poison as he spat them out. His eyes were scanning your face, looking at every detail possible. Under his gaze, you felt your skin burn. The bite he left on your neck sizzled again, making you hiss.

“I will show you great things. Things you could never imagine in your human life.” He said as his body was pressed right against yours. You felt your skin tingle against him, making you shift uncomfortably under his touch.

He brought his face closer, until there was few inches between your lips. His fingertips were pressing into your flesh, leaving possible marks on you. The thought of carrying the marks he left on you made you thighs clench. As if he was reading your mind, he held you tighter, his nails cutting trough your skin like it did nights ago.

“Let me show you my most precious thing. My love…” He said as his lips gently touched the corner of your mouth. His short moustache tickled your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted his lips on you but he wasn't kissing you. His mouth was slightly open as his lips went right and left at the corner of your mouth. His warm breath was licking your face, making you forget everything that you had on your mind just seconds ago.

His lips captured your bottom lip first. He gently kissed your mouth as if you were a piece of glass. Then his tongue slowly made its way into your mouth. With this new body, the taste of his tongue was exquisite now. He tasted like wave of destruction, the plague, the angel of death, your sweet blood that he drank minutes ago. He tasted like the end and foreverness. You kissed him back like an animal, hungry, wild and in need for killing. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, pressing your body against him so hard that you thought your bones were crushing into one another.

He first got rid of his own clothes. His pale, smooth skin was shining under the cold moonlight. You felt your mouth water as his hands ripped your clothes away. The stretch of the ripping clothes on your skin made the wetness between your legs grow bigger. Before you knew what was happening, his hand was in your hair, gently tugging the strands to expose your neck. He leaned closer and breathed your scent in. Then his wet lips left a shaky, small kiss that made you moan out loud in frustration. His touch was so gentle that it made you feel like you were walking on a thin sword. You wanted to get cut by that sword more than anything in this moment.

“I watched you, listened to you, touched you. I waited to make you mine so patiently.” He whispered as if he was talking to himself. His hand on your hair pulled harsher this time, making you fall onto your knees. He followed you down soon after, laying you onto the ground. You didn't care about the hard, uncomfortable surface of the porch. Only thing you cared was him between your legs, looking down at you like you were a part of his whole being.

“I won't be gentle.“ he said, as he left a kiss to your temple and caressed your hair. You did nothing but nodding as he waited for your reaction. His eyes didn't leave your face as he grabbed his dick and aligned himself with your awaiting, clenching wet entrance. The first stretch took your breath away. Everything was too foreign to your body. His tip went in and stretched your walls that sent a wave of shock trough your whole body. He kept looking at you and you could not take your eyes off of him. It was like your were one with him in this moment. Your very existence was full of him. Your insides were full of him.

His dick made a room for itself as he mercilessly stretched you out. When he was all the way in, his tip close to your cervix, a cry came out of your throat. Your chest was hurting and your eyes were burning. You felt sick. Pleasure of the pain was making your vision cloudy. You could not think anything other then him being inside you, against you, on top of you. He rolled his hips once and you couldn't control the noises that came out of you. It sounded like an animal crying out in pain, a shriek of sorrow, a moan that was full of pleasure and sin.

“Let it go.” He whispered and captured your lips once more. You moaned into his mouth as he started to roll his hips again and again. His skin was slapping against your skin, the sounds that came from both of you echoed in the field. There in the darkness, two wild monsters, seeds of the devil were making love.

His pubic bone was pressed against your clit, going up and down and providing the friction you were craving. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and bit you again on the same spot. This time the pain of his teeth made you shake in ecstasy. You were scratching his back, drawing blood and sinking your nails deep enough to make him hiss. You could feel your blood once again fill his mouth. You felt your tongue go dry, your fangs get sore in need of biting something. You could feel your thirst get worse as his hips slapped against yours, your walls clenching around him tight and wet.

“Go on, bite me.” He whispered between his bites. Your eyes widened with his words and the pit in your stomach made you tremble.

Without even thinking you took a long lick of the skin of his neck and bit him. He hissed and you felt him twitch inside you, going deeper in you as if it was possible. His ancient blood touched your tongue and you felt euphoric. It was much different than Jimmy’s blood. Remmick’s blood was full of wisdom and evilness. It was bitter and addicting. You felt it get into your veins, mix into you in seconds and fill you up with darkness.

“Harder!” You moaned as you licked the bite on his neck like a lunatic. His thrusts became harsher, leaving your skin burning and bruised. He was digging into you, making you squeal and cry his name out.

“Fucking hell woman!” He grunted as he held your thighs and pushed them against your bare breasts. He pressed his body against yours, trapping you between him and ground. With the new position, you could feel him deeper in you. Your walls were clenching and getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Your mixed liquids were flowing down his balls to the ground, pooling under your hips.

His name was like a prayer on your lips. In this moment he was all you knew, with your new body and mind, with your new nature. He was your creator, as he eliminated the first one that trapped you into a miserable life. You hugged his shoulders and kissed him again. The kiss was mixing with your tears that were flowing down your cheeks. He moaned when he tastes the salty liquid. He was liking everything better when it pained you. How sick and twisted someone could be?

“You tasted way better than your father.” He whispered, making sure you heard it clearly. Your hips that were thrusting up and meeting him halfway stopped. Your tears dried on your cheeks and your arms fell to your sides from his back. He buried his face into your neck as his thrusts started to get sloppy and carelessly deep. Your face was blankly looking at the black sky that was full of stars. He was going in and out, his hands holding your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh and his lips sucking on the sweet spot on your collarbone.

He was terrorising you from the moment you had came to this place. He was haunting your dreams, making you doubt what was real and what was not. He had taken your father first, turning him into a monster like himself, like you. Then he had taken your mother, on an early cold morning. He wasn’t satisfied with any of this until he had taken your humanity, your innocence and mercy from you. He had made you kill an innocent person who only wanted to help you. And now he was never going to let you go. You felt your chest tighten with the thought of spending one more day with him.

His moans got louder, eventually turning into screams of pleasure. With one last hard roll of his hips, he spent himself in you, painting your clenching walls white with his dead seed. You wanted to throw up as he was still caressing your skin and kissing your neck. He was smiling against you, his dick still inside you, keeping you full. Your eyes turned to the side and you saw horizon line lighten slightly by the rising sun. Your breathing stop. It was going to be bright soon.

“I want to be on top.” You said as you ran your fingers trough his dirty blonde locks. His dick started to harden inside you with your words. Then he immersed flipped you over, laying himself on the ground that was warmed by your body. He was already hard when you aligned his tip at your entrance. The stretch was better than first time, going easier with the slick of your folds. You went down until he was all the way inside you. The new feeling took the breath out of your lungs. Your loins were fitting together like pieces of puzzle. He looked at you under his eyelashes, a sweet smile on his face as his hands grabbed your breasts. You started to roll your hips without letting your body adjust to him first.

“I love you.” He whispered breathlessly, the smile on his face never fading away and his eyes dropping in the bliss of your body. You held onto his chest as your movements got faster. Your whole body was burning with the knowledge of sun slowly rising in the horizon. He was lost in you, unaware of the new day coming.

With the force of your knees you started to bounce up and down, taking Remmick’s breath away. His legs were shaking just like your knees that were about to give up. Your body was tired but your mind was wide awake. You were not going to spend the rest of your life with him. You were not going to let him go either. He had to pay for what he did to you and even if it meant to die with him, you were willing to do so.

“I love you.” He said again. His eyes were closed, hands on your legs, his chest rising slowly with the deep breaths he was taking in.

“Come here.” You said when the friction on your clit made you tremble on top of him. You were going to come. He opened his eyes and rose up to hold you on his lap. Your arms were wrapped around one another, body tangled and hips meeting in order to get satisfaction out of one another. He pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing and making your eyes tear.

“I love you… I love you…” he kept repeating as your legs started to shake and your eyes rolled back into your skull. You saw flashing lights and stars in your vision as your clenching walls made him grunt like an animal. The knot in your belly exploded and pleasure burst into your veins. You cried out, tears flowing down your cheeks and he licked every each one.

“I love you.” He said as you kept rolling your hips. You could not say that you loved him back. Though of uttering those words disgusted you. You guided his mouth back to the wound on your neck which he gladly accepted once again tonight. You sinked your own teeth onto his shoulder. Your bodies exchanged blood and pleasure at the same time. With that he was sent over the edge and his orgasm hit him for the last time.

Two of you slowly laid back, you on top of him, him still deep inside you. You could feel his seed leaking out of you. The feeling made your legs shake and your clit throb. You feasted on him from the last time. You were going to die with his taste on your tongue and his seed in you. No matter how hard you tried to get your self away from him, you were his.

The sun lights came first. Then the warmth. It was sweet sensation first. As you drank from one another, it warmed your skin. You didn’t look up to sunlight but the feeling was bringing you peace maybe for the last time in your life. The thought made you want to cry. Remmick slowly raised his head up from your neck but you didn’t let him.

“Please drink more.” You said as you pushed his back to your skin. Your loins were burning. You smelled burning flesh. Then felt the pain on your skin. Remmick’s skin was starting to turn red, looking raw and painful. You were feeling his pain on top of your own. Tears kept running down your cheeks as he kept drinking your blood. He was consuming you as if he was drunk on your essence. He was keep repeating the same few words even when the sun was getting higher in the sky;

‘I love you.’

The sun was brighter today. It was warmer, more blinding. The sun was rising for you today. Today, sun was rising to clean the world from evil. And you had accepted without fighting against. You pressed your head against Remmick’s shoulder and started to hum a song that was from a distant memory. A song that was sang by a mother, to her baby. A lullaby it was. This wasn't your memory, no. Your family was full of too much hate and contempt towards one another. You had never truly loved your parents and even though they had little love for you in their heart, they had never liked you as a person. All of your memories were full of arguments and screams.

The lullaby was from Jimmy’s memories. The same one that his mother sang to him nights before she had died. The same lullaby he sang by himself to remember her. And it was the same one that he had imagined to sing to his kids one day.

Sun lights were coming directly now. You could feel them getting under your skin and make their way into you in order to destroy your existence. Remmick shifted beneath you, as if his consciousness was coming back. He tried to push you away yet you didn't let him. With your last strength you held him tight and close to you.

“What are you-“

“You said you loved me more than anyone ever did. I want you to die with your love.” You said as you looked into his eyes. There it was again, his mischief smile that made your blood boil with rage.

He tried to get away from you but you were not letting him go. Sunlights were frying his skin now. The smoke that came from your bodied filled the air with the smell of burning flesh. The flames were coming from your insides. It was burning from your belly to your throat to your bones. You wondered if every death was this painful.

The flames got bigger and higher. Only thing you could see were orange-red flames and his eyes that never left your face. He was looking at you as if he was trying to understand if he was actually dying. Being on this earth for centuries, seeing empires rise and fall, being the most powerful being on the planet and take thousands of lives wasn’t something someone could leave behind easily.

“After everything I did for you?” He said, but you could not tell if he was actually talking or you were hearing things as you died.

“I never wanted any of this. ” You said, tears flowing down your cheeks and your heart aching.

“Why?” His voice is now full of sadness and his eyebrows raised up in hope. The possibility of you never loving him was now crossing his mind for the first time. You didn’t love Remmick. Yet the problem was, you couldn’t hate him either. You knew you were supposed to. And the guilt of not hating him was eating you away.

“Only someone who knows how to love could hate.” Remmick’s grip on you disappeared when the words left your mouth. “Anything other than hate and love is nothing at all.” He shook his head as if your words getting carved into his head. He pulled away from you, facing the creeping sunlights from the horizon line. You looked at him, and gasped with his beauty. His body was like a statue against the shimmering lights. You wondered what was the last time he properly seen the sun.

He looked at the horizon line, didn’t speak for some time until you touched his cheek. His side profile was perfect with his red eyes shining and reflecting the upcoming light. His mouth was covered in your blood and his body was covered in bites and scratches all over. The corner of your mouth curled up with proudness of your work. You were truly going insane.

“I don’t remember the last time someone loved me.” He whispered. Yet the weights of his words were so loud that it was heard in the whole field.

“I searched for something that could make me feel close to what I had before I was this.” He said as his hands pointed at himself.

“But I have been on this earth too long. Nothing, no one of my time survived yet I am here.” He said as he finally turned to you. You realised in that moment how similar you were. Since you spent your life trying to fit into a world that never tried to make you feel included. Your parents were dead, you had no home to go back. Your hands were covered in the blood of an innocent.

“Maybe we weren’t meant t survive this long.” You said. He smiled and nodded.

You did not know if he said something after that. It felt burning, then cold. Then nothing at all. Your existence turned into a bunch of ash and wind took it away.

As the sun rose in the sky, there were ashes on the ground of the porch. There were torn clothes, and blood. Not so far away from the house, there was a dead man, laying on the haystacks, a shotgun by his side.

A naked man who was covered in burns disappeared into the house, seen by the cars passing by. Yet they only found the bodies of the woman out of the family that moved into the house and the preacher’s poor son. There were no traces of the father and the daughter. Not a single trace of any body else other than them.

A/N: hope you liked it. Feel free to share your thoughts on it.

[leafyeyes417]

Added to the chat

So I’ve seen this done in BNHA fandom quite often but never for DPxDC so lets do it

—————————————————————————

Danny and Tucker were tinkering with their gear, trying to make things easier for themselves. Currently they were making their phones run on ecto so they would both be untraceable and never run out of energy.

Danny, his tongue sticking out, said “I think… I’m finished.” There was a beep and he closed up the back and started making sure it all worked. “Alright Tuck, time for your stuff while I do your phone.” Swapping phones Tuck began adding in all the info from their old phones and added a ghost firewall. Wouldn’t hold Technus if he was determined but made it so he couldn’t just possess the tech immediately.

Later, Danny is lying in his bed when he notices a new chat on his phone. It confused him because he already had his friend chat, who else would he have a chat with?

————

The Batfam were in their family chat just speaking about their day when there was an alert.

New member added: Phantom

Coffee-not-sleep: Uh? Did we get a new family member?

UnDead: Seriously?! Again?!

Bendy_Pretzel: No? B said nothing about any adoptions when I saw him today.

SilentShadow: New sibling!

I-See-All: Not sure how but they were not added to the chat the normal way.

BloodSon: Tt. So they are an intruder then? Can you not remove them?

PurpleGlitter: I mean, could be fun? Just need to make a new chat for the private things!

Daylight: Maybe they are a meta? Could be nice to not be the only one.

I-See-All: Unable to remove them. Not sure how but the code is almost alive and I would probably pass out before I could get through it.

Phantom: Uh? How did I get added to some chat? I mean I was fixing my phone today but it shouldn’t have added me anywhere?

BloodSon: Speak Intruder. Who are you and what do you want? *sword drawn*

Bendy_Pretzel: Dami that isn’t going to make them want to talk to us.

Phantom: Nah it’s fine. Name’s Danny. I do gotta ask though, you want me to leave? I can probably delete my chat or get my hacker friend to do it if you want.

PurpleGlitter: No way! This will be fun! Need to get an outside perspective. Gotham is weird so we need someone normal!

UnDead: As long as we don’t tell B I’m game.

SilentShadow: ❤️❤️❤️

Coffee-not-sleep: Stay. I will figure out this living firewall. How the hell do you even do this?

Phantom: yeah first of all if you wanted a normal outside perspective that is not me. Second, the firewall isn’t living. But I’m not saying any more than that.

[chronicowboy]

Eddie calls Chris after the kitchen incident. Buck locks himself away in his room, and Eddie can't blame him for it really. Wishes he had a door he could close on himself. Wishes he could pack it all away into one room and let it drown him. Just for a little while. But he doesn't. Because this isn't his house anymore. It hasn't been for a while.

Instead, he sits on the couch in the dark, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, and he tries to pinpoint the exact moment it all went wrong. Like he doesn't know. Like he didn't walk into the kitchen itching for it. Wanting to feel something, anything but the grief and the guilt and the desolate helplessness he hasn't been able to escape since the call came in.

He'd just wanted—and maybe it was unfair, but Bobby was gone, so what the fuck was fair?—he'd just wanted Buck to hold him. To ask him what it was like finding out over the phone, so Eddie could fall apart. And Buck would pick up his pieces and stitch them all back together. Fix it the way he always fixes things. And then Eddie would have been solid enough to do the same for Buck.

But no. The blunt, bludgeoning stones of their grief had caught each other, sparking in the charged air of the kitchen and catching light. Neither of them stood a chance.

Eddie sighs. Scrubs a rough hand down his face. Glances back at the hallway. He could get up, go knock on Buck's door and say he's sorry, say they can figure this out together. He could. Except Eddie's not sure he can. He's not sure he knows how to fix this. Can it even be fixed? They lost Bobby. And instead of finding comfort in shared grief, they used the sharp edge of it to sever their bond, rip a chasm in the ground between them.

He doesn't know how to fix this, and for once, he thinks Buck has no idea either.

Eddie catches sight of the time on his watch, curses as he lunges for his phone on the coffee table. It's an hour past the time he normally calls Christopher to check-in. Fuck. He can only hope his parents haven't herded Chris up to bed yet. He hits the call button and brings it up to his ear, leg bouncing as he waits for—

"Hey, Dad." His voice is so soft, so steady it brings tears to Eddie's eyes almost instantly. He squeezes his eyes shut, screws up his face, takes a deep breath.

"Hey, Chris." His voice, however, is rough and trembling, broken.

"You okay?" Chris asks, sweet baby, Eddie wishes he was here, wishes he could send Chris down the hall to knock on Buck's door and give him the hug Eddie so wishes he was gentle enough to offer. But no, his hands were made for pushing and shoving and hurting.

"Eh." Eddie laughs wetly. "Been better, kid."

"Want to talk about it?" God. Yeah. Yeah, he does. Except, this is another thing he's not sure he knows how to do. Doesn't know how he ended up on this couch alone in the dark and desperate for something he can't even put a name to.

"I messed up." He sighs, sniffs, shakes his head. "I really messed up with Buck, bud."

"He'll forgive you." And it's immediate. So goddamn sure. There's a faith to it that Eddie thinks he's never felt in his whole life. If he was standing, it would have brought him to his knees. "What happened?"

"I told Hen I finally got hired by EPFD, and she told Chimney, and Chimney told Ravi, and he let it slip to Buck before I had chance to tell him." Eddie should have known. A family of fucking loose lips. "He was hurt, and then he brought Bobby into it, and I just... Snapped." He huffs out a breath, bites down on the lump in his throat, lets it bleed bitter guilt down his esophagus.

And that was it really. That was why it had taken him two weeks to book a planet ticket. Because he couldn't face coming home—back to LA—just to look in the eyes of the people who were there. He knew he'd find no blame there, but still. He wondered if somewhere inside themselves they'd think he didn't deserve his grief half as much as they did because he was the one who left.

He'd hoped when he got to the airport, when Buck had got him home, when all was said and done, Buck would read the guilt on him plain as day. Would wrap him up and tell him that it was okay, that he was allowed to feel it, that this grief was theirs, and they'd shoulder it together. But Buck had been bouncing around houses carrying out psych evals and holding himself together with that shitty off-brand tape that never stays down at the corners. And Eddie's hands were only made for breaking, so what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

"I don't know how to fix this, Chris." Eddie bites at his lip, sits back, looks up at the ceiling to stop the tears from rolling. "I wish you were here. I think you'd be able to fix him with just a hug."

The silence that comes down the line has Eddie's heart leaping. He's pushed too far. Too soon. This is still the city he left. Still the house Eddie tarnished forever.

"Actually, I've been thinking..." Christopher clears his throat and gets quiet in that mousy way that means he's not quite sure how to say it. "I thought, maybe, maybe I could come home?"

And Chris starts rambling about how Buck and Eddie need him and how he misses Bobby and everyone else and how he'd like to see them again, but Eddie's back on the floor of his bedroom with a hand pressed over his mouth, choking on silent sobs.

Home.

"And I know you're pretty broke right now and plane tickets are super expensive and you'd never let me fly on my own but—"

"Chris," he croaks. Christopher's mouth snaps shut. "Chris, do you mean it?"

"Yeah, Dad. You were there for me when Buck was in his coma. Now, I want to be there for Buck now Bobby's—gone."

"God, kid, what the hell did we do to deserve you?"

"Beats me," Chris mumbles cheekily. Eddie barks a laugh.

"I love you, you know that?"

"I love you too."

God. He's never gonna get used to that.

"Pepa's still visiting Abuela, right?" Chris hums in assent. "Right, okay, so I-I'll call her and see if she wouldn't mind flying home with you tomorrow and then I'll book you tickets and we'll figure it out, okay?"

"The three of us will figure it out," Chris tells him. And somehow Eddie knows that he's not talking about Pepa.

[saltynsassy31]

Full disclaimer, I have to read any of the fics written for Shockwave and the kids yet as I've been busy and off Tumblr for a bit for my own mental health lol

But I recently saw a photo of an abandoned carousel in some underground area filled with puddles and it reminded me of that one deleted scene from Detroit: Become Human where the Jerry's make a broken carousel work again for Alice and they all just watched her happily play on it as the world around them crumbled.

And, with that thought, it also reminded me of Shockwave and the kids and I simply HAD to write a small drabble fic of it. Sorry if it isn't accurate for the characters or the story already made, but I hope it's enjoyed regardless :3

And, I hope, with all the angst going on, this fluffy story will satisfy yall a bit XD

[This is the post I saw that inspired me to write this, if anyone wants a visual of the place: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGog_W_vDiR/?igsh=b3FsYm50enJhM3ln ]

AU belongs to @keferon

Carousel

~☆~

As the days went by, the situation they all found themselves in was slowly starting to get far too real. It was fun, at first, running around abandoned buildings and scavenging for whatever they could find, spending time with their newly acquired aquatic dad friend who kept them safe and well fed.

But then things started to show up and it scared them. Shockwave tried to avoid the areas with the most floating bodies, the children having seen enough of that (and he hoped they hadn't seen any they would recognise), but every now and then something would float up and startle them. Other times they'd run into bigger problems while scavenging and they had far too many close calls for Shockwave's liking.

They tend to keep themselves entertained, for the most part. Shockwave only occasionally indulged. But, usually, he could simply gently float on the surface of the water and let the kids tire themselves out. However, they've become more quiet lately.

It was hard to tell what caused it. Could be a myriad of things, as listed before, maybe it was finally starting to dawn on them how the situation was far from ideal. Maybe it was the conversation they had with that Orca - Jazz, was it? Shockwave couldn't tell, and it bothered him.

He missed their lively chatter (it still happened, but few and far between). A part of him was starting to wonder if the humans who called him out on the fact that this wasn't normal behaviour for human children were right, a small pang of regret reaching the back of his mind.

But he shook those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Nothing about their situation was normal anyway, he was already providing more than enough for them to survive this cruel world.

Shockwave was aggressively pulled out of his drifting thoughts by an ear piercing screech that immediately put him on high alert.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” He heard Skids say. Turning to look at him, he followed where the boy was pointing at.

It looked to be some kind of fair or theme part, it was a little hard to tell. Half of it was submerged, but there were some areas in which the water had receded. Shockwave relaxed once he deemed the situation safe, but still gave a small scrutinising glare at Skids for causing unnecessary concern - which went, of course, completely ignored.

“Oh wow, it looks pretty banged up, huh?” Tc noted, crawling closer to the edge of Shockwave's back to get a better look.

“But there might still be some things left over. You know how much they tend to sell in these places? And now we can just snag them!” Warp argued, already getting excited at the thought.

“Do we really need more useless things to carry around?” Trailbreaker argued, the bag he carried strangely heavier on his back.

“There are other things we could do there.” Skids quickly chimed in. “We could check out some of the games they have.”

“Would there be any still working?”

“Carnival games easy to fix, Soundwave up to the task.”

They all turned to look at Soundwave, seemingly to silently fall into an agreement.

Warp turned to face Shockwave, clasping his hands together as he pleaded. “Can we go there? Pretty pleaaaase?” Before he could even answer, the others had joined them.

He wasn't going to say no. This was the exact type of fun distraction they needed, maybe it would help them go back to their usual, energetic selves. So the theatrics were unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help the small amusement it brought him. He pretended to think it over, as if he didn't already have their answer.

“Hmm, I don't know…”

Those simple words were enough to make them all Start to plead harder, making their eyes as big as possible, throwing promises he knew they'd never actually follow through.

That broke the façade he was trying to play up, causing him to laugh. “Alright, alright. We can go.” The kids erupted into celebratory cheers, hugging each other and jumping on Shockwave's back. “But don't stray so far where I can't reach you, okay?”

They all nodded, but he only had trust in some of them to actually obey his orders.

Regardless, he swam over to the abandoned park and waited until they had slid off of him before crawling over onto land. The ground was still pretty wet, so it made it easier for him to slide around and follow them, keeping himself to the more deeper puddles when possible.

He watched as they all went to different directions with their own, small group. Tc and Warp, always tied to the hip, ran over to some of the stands that still had some prizes hanging. Windcharger and Trailbreaker followed Damus as he ran to play some of the games that didn't require power to work. And Skids and Soundwave went…

Where did they go?

Panic immediately followed the realisation. Shockwave stood up straighter and began to spin his head around in search of the two missing kids. The others didn't seem to have noticed their absence, too enthralled in their own activity.

He was about to start calling when he heard a familiar boisterous voice call from not too far. “Guys! Over here! Come see what me and Soundwave just discovered!”

Immediately, all of the attention was on Skids who had a smile so wide Shockwave was worried he'd hurt himself with it. The others looked at each other briefly before making their way over, Damus hesitating a bit before putting down the fishing rod he held and following the rest.

Shockwave did so as well, to the best of his abilities anyway. The further they went, the tighter the space became and less water reached the surface for him to easily slide around. He wanted to voice his complaint of them going too far, like he had explicitly told them not to before coming here (and really, he thought Warp would have disobeyed first before Soundwave. Skids made sense, but him?) But before he could even think of what to say, Skids noticed his struggle and seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” He jogged over to the mer shark and gently grabbed at one of his fingers to guide him elsewhere. “There's an opening that takes you directly to the area we found. You have to swim underneath some rubble, but it should fit you.”

The boy took him to some dilapidated attraction of the park, it was too broken to tell what it used to be, but it did create an opening that allowed Shockwave to fit through perfectly fine. “Just swim straight ahead and it should take you to the area, we'll meet you there.”

Immediately, Shockwave didn't like that idea, and he didn't need to voice his thoughts for the teen to catch on, his glare doing the job just fine. “It'll be fine, don't worry! It's not that far. Less than a minute, probably less than a second for you since you're so big you'll just have to slide in and out. Besides, there's nothing here, the place is completely barren.”

Shockwave was still unconvinced.

Skids took to pleading. “Please! It'll be quick, I promise you. And worth it too! It's the exact thing we've been needing, and Soundwave put a lot of work on it. I know you don't like leaving us alone for even a second, but give it a chance?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Skids making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and Shockwave hoping the stubborn teen would dispel this idea with his glare alone.

In the end, Skids guppy eyes were far too powerful even for a great shak such as Shockwave. And the kid was right, wasn't this what he wanted for them to begin with?

He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and reluctantly agreed to it. “Fine. I trust you, but if anything shows up–”

“We don't engage with it and call for you, yes, I know. Now go! Soundwave is waiting!” Skids ushered Shockwave to submerge himself into the large opening with the wave of his hands and only joined back with the others once he could no longer see the large mer.

One relief Shockwave had was that the tunnel formed was large enough that he could easily turn around and pop back out if he heard any of the kids in danger, though it also lacked any proper escape for him as it only had one direction for him to go. Straight ahead or backwards. 

But Skids was right in saying the trip was short, he could already hear the muffled voices of his children. Soon enough, he found himself resurfacing, the lively chatter being the first thing his senses picked up on.

When the children heard the splash of water, they all turned to look towards the source of the noise, their excitement almost blindingly radiat in contrast to the dark, murky room they found themselves in.

The place was closed off by fallen buildings that created a sort of cave around them, plenty of fauna already making its home here. It was fairly empty as well, save for the large, round attraction in the middle of the room. It had horses stuck to poles inside it, a dim pink and gold decorating the whole thing, the paintings that littered it had long since faded and it was hard to tell what it once was.

“Okay, you're here, good.” Skids turned to Soundwave, who was standing next to what looked to be a control panel. “Soundwave, would you do us the honours?”

The other teen nodded, bending down to start pulling at some wires in place of pressing the buttons offered. Warp scoffed, crossing his arms and looking skeptically at his friend. “There's no power here, how in the world are you going to get it to work? I swear, if you brought us all the way here for nothing I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of music and light echoed loudly around the empty space, causing everyone to flinch back and cover their ears. Shockwave nervously looked around, worried that the loud noise might have attracted some unwanted attention. Once the shock faded, Skids ran up to Soundwave and gestured proudly at the now working carousel.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh…how is this possible!?” Warp questioned, looking at Soundwave for answers, to not only be ignored, but shoved around by the other kids who ran towards the attraction. “Seriously?! Is no one else even a little bit concerned on how this is possible?”

Tc placed a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “Warp, just enjoy the miracle. When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Warp could only grumble. Tc was right, they wouldn't, not for a long time. That didn't mean he had to accept it though.

Shockwave watched as they all walked over and picked their favourite horse, Tc and Skids fighting over the same blue one before Trailbreaker broke their fight up and offered his to Tc, walking up to help Damus up and sit with him instead. Shockwave observed the way Soundwave continued to pick at the control panel and looked up at the other children, waiting for their confirmation that they were ready before clicking something and closing the panel. As soon as he did that, the carousel began to slowly move, the horses bobbing up and down in gentle motions, causing the kids to excitedly cheer.

Soundwave stepped on the moving platform while it was still picking up speed and sat on a random horse near Windcharger. Although not as vocal as the others, he was clearly enjoying it.

Shockwave couldn't quite get what was so entertaining about the thing. It was slow, even after it picked up some speed, and the music was painful to the ears. But that didn't quite matter, did it? They were happy, and they were having fun.

It clearly was something they knew about before the tsunami, before their civilization fell apart. A simple joy of life that they missed.

And, in a world dimmed by tragedy and destruction, where at every corner something threatens their very existence, isn't that all they could ask for?

So, in a small moment of peace, Shockwave let himself relax. He bent forward and rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched as his children sang along with the screechy music, bouncing on their fake horses and pretending they were in some high chase in their little imaginary world.

In this dreary reality, even the artificial light of a broken past could make it all worth it. 

[kiarst]

little late night thought:

yandere! batfam x neglected!reader but soul eater. hc that its another universe accessible via magic.

had this idea floating around but what if neglected reader nearly died in an accident or is on the brink of death after being attacked by a criminal on their way home and when they wake up, they're in the world of soul eater. They get found, fixed up and are basically adopted. I dont know by who but I'm thinking stein or marie (pre-medusa). if reader is found by stein then reader knows he's got a few screws loose but sees he surprisingly cares about them more than the batfam did.

I don't know if they'd be a weapon or a meister but I like the idea that they're a meister with yandere weapon who they don't mind is a yandere. Dunno how they'd meet tho or what weapon or what kind of meister their partner is if reader is the weapon.

mc goes to the dwma, no knows they are stein's assistant/kid (aside from the main group who find out when they go to fight stein) or that they're from another world and think they're just the normal student who's only oddball thing is their obsessive partner and their calm behavior towards them. maybe they're also friends with the main group or smth.

Now batfam is devastated once they hear the news that mc is most likely dead and definitely missing (cuz there was no body but there was blood left at the crime scene). theyre blaming themselves and bruce is tryna find a way to bring them back. he enlists the help of everyone, including magic users. Maybe he asks constantine or zatara for help. Either way, batfam finds mc and is surprised and protective when they see them fight a kishin the day they meet again. theyre like what are you doing? you could get hurt. youre coming home with us right now and mc and her partner are like nope and dip. They know the world better than batfam so they manage to evade them for a bit before being found cuz batfam is persistent but mc has a crazy obsessive guard dog for a weapon and a (maybe and definitely) much crazier father figure. shenanigans ensue.

thoughts? feel free to take this idea and make something w it.

[elodieunderglass]

Hi there! I need to write A Guy who is Extremely Narrowboat, for reasons, and the Narrowboat Guy you just posted is. well. Very much that-adjacent, I suspect. Do you have advice for a) what this Guy is like, and some tips on conjuring them into existence, or b) a good place to look for Narrowboat Things? (if this ask has come in twice I am sorry. Cursed)

No worries at all!

Post references: description of original character Ken who lives on a narrowboat, post about Ken describing characteristics of a quite normal boatie, picture of Ken trying to recruit you into his band (he will teach you how to sing maybe.)

Ken is a Very Boatie Boatie so you should be able to pick or extrapolate some aspects of his character from some of those. The overall smell, of course, being woodsmoke and diesel and slightly damp wool. Personalities range from shifty and feral, to surly, to normies, to chirpy influencers, to wide-eyed wanderers, but boaters are often (not always) daytime drunk. Ken’s a sunny inclusive one that strikes a careful balance between many boatie extremes; practical enough to do a lot of his own repair and maintenance, but silly enough to always have oil on his nose. Your character can fall anywhere on these spectrums!

People who live full-time on narrowboats are incredibly diverse, ranging from prosperous retirees in custom-designed floating houses worth hundreds of K, to people who are functionally homeless. They can be people who live permanently on moorings or marinas, or continuous cruisers who are completely nomadic, (or sensible plan-ahead people who pay a “winter mooring” fee to pause the “continuous cruising” rules during winter and get the best of both worlds.) Ask five boaters and get ten opinions. There are a thousand nuances and reasons why. Some people choose the lifestyle with excitement; for some, it’s forced on them. Some are right-wingers and some are left-wing and some are anarchists, but all of them are living in someone else’s back garden on charity-owned property. The only things they have in common are some basic boater characteristics, like cork-ball keyrings and a lofty resentment against anglers, and the fact that every boater has willingly chosen to marginalise themselves.

The UK has always been hostile to nomads, but is increasingly so now, and the various inconveniences of living without a fixed address add up to some material penalties. It’s not just slightly harder to pay bills, do admin, arrange childcare, commute, vote, etc. The liveaboard narrowboat community once prided themselves on being “the last legal nomads” in the British Isles; anti-traveller legislation has increasingly soured this, with laws being passed limiting everything from the use of wood-burning stoves (positioned by the anti-biofuel lobby in the Guardian as an eco thing. In London. I ask you.) to laws making it easier to remove off-grid children from their parents. And yet, due to housing pressures and the cheap sustainability of the lifestyle, the liveaboard population hasn’t dropped.

By going off-grid you are commenting, politically, in some way, about the grid. By stepping out of society you are agreeing to be a little bit out of society. You simultaneously cross many social classes, and don’t leave your own life at all. Your rights and worries are now shared with the legal rights of Travellers, the Roma, fairground workers, and the unhoused - to the point where the collective term for your community is G****y, Traveller, Roma, Showmen & Boater (GTRSB). (Yes the first one’s a slur, yes people know that - it’s still a community self-description for some, and essentially you’re expected to ignore it and not use the word.) ultimately, a boatie only has to be slightly sideways. A bit self-reliant. A bit willing to be outside.

Reference books? Well, Narrow Dog to Carcassonne is an exciting account; I read Narrow Escape by Marie Browne before moving aboard and appreciated her honesty. There are a lot of influencers living aboard nowadays, but plenty of books abound. My friend Dru remains brave and true and is a trans woman in some tricky days, so you can buy some poetry books from her Etsy shop to keep her afloat and hear from boaters.

I lived aboard for years and am happy to answer questions - maybe Ken could do his own information post! A boater character is a wonderful, rich, textured thing. What would you like to know?

[toournextadventure]

seven things

Summary: Life back with the living is difficult enough without Yelena contributing r own brand of chaos to it.

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: swearing, mentions of past deaths, injuries, mental illness Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!Reader

First, you will be cold. So incredibly cold. You could feel each nerve throughout your body, and they ached. They ached with every step, every breath. Even after all this time as you sat in your chair, waiting for the next person to be brought in for help. And you were still cold.

Most of your days in the medbay were spent in long sleeves and, if it was slow enough, blankets. Gloves were helpful, if you could find the right ones. Hugs, hugs were always nice. Especially the ones from Alexei, he was especially warm. It felt like stepping into a warm bath after catching hypothermia, but it was worth the pain. Sometimes you would just stay in his arms until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hugging?”

You turned your head to face the doorway. Beneath your ear, you could hear Alexei’s heartbeat, loud and strong. Yelena stood in the doorway, looking entirely unimpressed. With her skin covered in dirt and bruises and the remnants of blood, you felt similarly.

“She’s cold,” Alexei said defensively. “Huggings are the cure.”

“What did you need, Yelena?” You asked.

“Walker came back with a gunshot or two.” She looked to have a few injuries of her own that needed attention. “Want him to come down?”

“Yes, send him-”

“-Not until she’s warm.”

Alexei’s arms tightened around your shoulders, holding you suffocatingly close to him. He was warm. You had blamed the Super Soldier Serum; after all, Bucky and Walker were also warmer than normal. You later concluded, through vast points of comparison, that he was just warm. Maybe it was part of being a dad.

You jumped. A second pair of arms wrapped themselves firmly around your waist, snaking between you and Alexei. Strategic. Yelena’s forehead was painfully warm against your shoulder. You didn’t care. Your arms were planted snugly between your and Alexei’s chest. The cold at your fingertips tingled painfully and your waist throbbed, but the warmth was there. It didn’t fix anything; it didn’t ease the cold. But the warmth was there.

The three of you stood there for you didn’t know how long. The longer they stayed wrapped around you, the more it hurt. You let your head drop to rest on Yelena’s. A small touch, something you wouldn’t normally let anyone else see, but you could trust Alexei. After all, he just wanted his remaining daughter to be safe.

You snaked a hand down until your fingers brushed against Yelena’s. She twitched but otherwise remained still. You had made a mistake. Why would she wish to feel your skin against hers? You made to pull your hand away, but her fingers wiggled against yours until they were as tangled between yours as could be possible.

“Warm yet?” Yelena asked softly.

No. No, you weren’t warm. You didn’t think you would ever be warm again.

You nodded.

When they pulled away, the cold felt all the more painful. Perhaps you simply needed the physical touch. Or to fill the empty hole that had situated itself firmly in the centre of whatever had replaced your soul. You didn’t know. Maybe you never would.

“I told you,” Alexei said in his booming voice. He just couldn’t help it. “Huggings help.”

Yelena reached over and held your hand by your pinkies.

Looking down at her, you could more closely see the imperfections marring her face. The shallow scratch near her eyebrow, now red and angry from lack of care. Dirt was rubbed underneath and behind her ear, and lightly coated the lobe. Blood was smeared across her face.

Your pinky burned.

“Why are you two just lookin-”

“-So can you fix Walker or not?” Yelena asked, interrupting her father. You could have laughed.

“I can fix him,” you answered.

“I’ll go send him down.”

She unhooked her finger from yours and left without a second glance. The cold rushed back through every cell until you wanted to scream. But your mouth remained closed, and you watched pitifully as Yelena walked out of the medbay door. You should have told her thank you for the hug.

“Always so cranky,” Alexei said once Yelena was long gone. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”

You patted him on his sturdy, muscular shoulder. “Let’s finish checking you over.”

Yelena would be back.

Second, you will wake up screaming. Initially, you thought it only meant when you came back; that would have been okay. It could’ve been worked with. A temporary moment of insanity, rightfully earned. It wasn’t. After every nap, every single time you woke up, you were screaming. You had worked out a way to stop rather quickly once conscious, but it didn’t prevent the screams. Your throat was eternally raw. Water was your closest friend.

Bucky understood that pain more than most. He tried giving you the most reliable tips. Don’t move too fast, keep at least three glasses of water by your bed at all times, don’t sleep around others. The first two tips were easy enough to keep up with; you already tried to drown yourself with the amount of water you consumed throughout the day.

Sometimes you would avoid sleeping. Staying in the medbay, doing whatever research you could. New breakthroughs, new advances. You didn’t need them, but you did your best to stay up to date. Not everyone knew of your abilities, and you weren’t too keen on sharing the small bit of information you had.

All those late nights inevitably lead to your waking up in the medbay. Where everyone could hear.

You heard the footsteps rushing to the medbay. You heard everything. The glass from your cup was sprawled across the floor, creating a hazardous situation for all involved. As the steps got closer, you continued picking up the pieces, being careful not to knick yourself in the process.

“Are you okay?”

Yelena slid through the open doorway, stopping herself just short of the disaster radius you had created. She looked at you (only ever at you) with tired eyes. Something creaked as she bent down to start picking up the pieces of your mess.

“I heard screaming,” she said, “and glass.”

You picked up a piece that had part of the pattern etched into it. The old Avengers logo with their signatures all around it. A little pretentious considering they already had an entire tower named after them. And cartoons. And commercials. And merch. Okay, it was incredibly pretentious. The piece was broken in the middle of Romanoff.

“Nightmare,” you said, putting the glass shards into the specified bin. “Sorry for waking you.”

“You thought I was sleeping?”

Yelena picked up the pieces a little slower. You knew she hadn’t been sleeping, you were no fool. No one in the tower could sleep soundly at any point, day or night. They would sleep when they were dead. They had too much trauma, too many regrets, to get a restful night. No, you knew better.

“What were you doing down here?” You asked. Both of you pushed yourselves up to your feet after grabbing the last of the big pieces.

Yelena handed you the broom, your fingertips brushing. “If Walker tries to impress me with his military bullshit one more time, I will kill him.”

“And my office is the better option?”

Glass clinked in the metal trash can as Yelena practically flopped onto your couch. “You know how to mind your own business.”

Right. Not for any other reason, you thought, even as her eyes never left you. That was something you… cherished about the Widow. She only came down to your office, or your suite, or met you at the little bookshop down the street because you minded your own business. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

“Can I get you some tea?” You asked. The broom was leaned against the wall carefully so it wouldn’t slip and clash against the floor. Your hands shook.

“No.” She patted the spot on the couch beside her. “You can join me, though.”

There was no hesitation in your steps. You quickly made your way to the couch and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. It was childish; a habit you had created after coming back. Maybe you had done it when you were younger. Either way, it brought the smallest sense of comfort.

The couch shifted until Yelena’s head rested gently on your shoulder, her hair tickling your nose. You sat there silently, listening to her steady breathing. Her heart beat rapidly. Her hand stuck under your leg and wrapped around your ankle; a habit she had picked up. It was grounding for both of you.

“What was your nightmare about?” You asked.

“I thought that was you,” she deflected.

“Humour me.”

Her hand tightened around your ankle. Softly, her finger started rubbing against the little scar underneath the protruding part of your ankle bone, a scar you had no memory of receiving. If she kept at it, as she often did, it would leave a raw spot, increasing the size of the scar. You never minded.

“That girl I killed,” she said quietly, “in the Red Room.”

You hummed and let your head fall gently onto hers. The usual nightmare, it would seem. The thing that usually kept her awake and aware. You had tried to talk to her about it once. Only once. She would never say it again, and you wouldn’t ask.

“What was yours?” She asked.

“My what?”

“Your nightmare.”

Right. Your nightmare, the thing that you weren’t even sure was a nightmare. It was… the real thing, wasn’t it? Part of you felt it had actually happened, it wasn’t just some irrational fear created by your broken mind. But every time you woke up, you couldn’t exactly remember the details.

You thought of something different.

“Walker kissed me.”

“That makes mine sound like a dream,” she teased.

“Yelena.”

“I’m serious. I would rather kill myself.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Worth kissing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The malice she felt toward Walker was wonderful. It was distracting enough for both of you to get your heads out of whatever trauma was haunting you. You could laugh about him - though you felt no genuine ill will toward the veteran - and move on with your lives.

Yelena’s head stayed on your shoulder. In the distance, you could hear someone playing music on another floor. Something loud, deafening, necessary. You understood. No one was getting any sleep in the tower, just like usual. Hopefully, they wouldn’t come down and ask for a sedative. Again.

Somehow much louder than the music echoing in the vents, you heard Yelena’s heartbeat finally slow to its resting rate. You refused to move even an inch. Her finger had stopped rubbing the sore spot on your skin, and your own shoulders relaxed.  Perhaps she was finally asleep.

“This is not comfortable.”

Never mind.

“The couch turns into a bed,” you suggested. “Not much comfier, but at least you can lie down.”

“Are you going to join me?”

“Propositioning me?”

Yelena lifted her head from your shoulder and held you captive with the mesmerising look in her eyes. If she ever asked you to kill for her, you would. If she asked you to live for her, you would. And the worst part of it all? She knew it.

“If I must sleep, then so do you,” she said with the smallest smile you had ever seen.

You sighed and stretched your legs, feeling the ache of the scar before standing up and pulling her with you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“Don’t worry,” she said as she helped you pull the bed out and get it set up. “I’ll keep Walker away from your dreams.”

If she slept next to you, you knew she would.

Third, your entire body will throb. They told you the pain would subside, but they lied. Being brought back is never a painless task, they said. You understood, you really did. Being a healer of your… particular talents, you knew how painful any sort of life-giving could be. You just wished it would go away after all this time.

If the pain was especially bad, Ava would sit with you. She’d situate herself behind your curled body and watch the medbay door. If anyone came in, she quickly directed them to one of the other medics. You tried to thank her just once, but she told you to shut up and that was that. She still showed up the next time.

“You’re getting worse,” Ava said, her hand gently rubbing up and down your curved back.

“It can’t get worse,” you argued in a weak voice. “It’s already debilitating.”

“It can get worse,” she said.

Your head remained tucked firmly underneath your arms. Your chest was pressed against your chest in a hopeless attempt to ease the pain. Nothing ever helped, not really. But Ava’s hand on your spine was comforting. You weren’t alone in your pain. Never alone.

“Shall I get Yelena?” Ava’s hand ceased its ministrations.

“No.”

“But you-”

“-No.”

In the time you had known Yelena, she had never seen you so… pathetic. Sleep deprived, of course. Angry on occasion. She had helped you clean the mess left from a rampage or two and had been your assistant for one or two emergency operations on her team. Never had she seen you in such a vulnerable position.

If you had anything to do with it, she never would.

Ava’s hand slowly started moving again. Your entire body shook at her gentle, soothing touch. Thankfully, she wasn’t as painfully warm as the men, so her skin left a subtle ache instead of a scorching inferno. Uncomfortable, but doable. 

“Would you like to hear it again?”

You nodded, and Ava told her story. The story of the original Avengers, with much more reality added to it. It wasn’t a happy story, but it wasn’t depressing. Showcasing the horrors they left behind, the destruction, but also the hope. A realistic story was more hopeful than anything else.

“My sister was better than that.”

Your entire body tensed, and you shot up until you were sitting. The sudden movement shocked your nerves, shooting lightning across your skin. Yelena was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and looking down at your spot on the floor. Ava’s hand shifted until it gripped your shoulder.

“Then tell your own story,” Ava said.

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, still looking directly at you.

“What do you need?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Are you dying?”

“Why would she be dying?”

“Is she?”

“I know you’re not stupid enough to believe pain equates to dying.”

“You’re in pain?”

“Both of you shut up!”

Your voice was rough and unkind. Both Ava and Yelena froze, looking at you with something akin to pity. They knew you never yelled, especially not at them. Walker, perhaps, but not them. Yet you had done just that, and you didn’t even feel the least bit sorry.

That was a lie.

“What do you want?” You asked again.

“It can wait.”

“Just say it,” you growled.

Yelena stared at you. Not at Ava, at you. You hated it when she looked at you that way. It left an uneasiness in your stomach that wouldn’t go away for days at a time. She knew you inside and out, whether you wanted her to or not. And you didn’t. You didn’t want her to know you at all. It was safer.

You raised a brow.

She glanced at Ava. “I was going to ask if you wanted to get food.” Her eyes fell back to you. “But we can go another time.”

No. That’s what you should have said. You should have told her no. It wouldn’t be wise to get lunch with Yelena Belova, the infamous Black Widow. Danger was attracted to her, and Death was attracted to you. If anything happened to her, you wouldn’t fight the inevitable any longer, because what would be the point?

But you couldn’t help yourself.

“Let’s go.”

“You’re sure?” Ava asked, but she was already helping you stand. Your hand gripped hers while her other hand rested comfortably on your hip, steadying your shaking body.

“Only if you help me,” you told Yelena.

Her eyes narrowed before she got the hint and lunged to your side, taking over for Ava, who hesitantly handed you over. It was humiliating, but what could you do? The pain was nearly overwhelming, every breath sending a new wave through your body. Yelena’s hands burned on your skin.

For more than one reason.

“Nothing too crazy, Belova,” Ava said.

“We can take the car,” she answered.

“Drive carefully.”

“I’m not an invalid,” you snapped. They fell silent.

You ripped your hand out of Yelena’s and walked out of her grasp. Each step sent a shock up your legs. It didn’t matter. You kept walking out of the room, knowing Yelena would follow after you. She always followed after you. You waited in the elevator for her, and she quickly took her place beside you.

The floors ticked by at a steady pace.

“I can order food,” Yelena said softly. “We can eat at my place.”

“Shut up,” you said just as softly.

You reached out and wrapped your arm through hers, leaning on her slightly. It eased the pain in your hip just enough not to be miserable. She stiffened before quickly regaining composure, steeling herself to keep you steady.

Walking out of the elevator was much easier with her by your side.

Fourth, you will try to return. Death does not let go of her wards so easily. She’s a possessive one, that Lady Death. From the moment she wrapped you in her arms, she never wanted to let go, and you were content to let her keep you. Each moment is a struggle to remain with the living.

You didn’t exactly want to die again. It wasn’t so much a conscious thing, at least not to your knowledge. You found comfort in spending time with the team you had become a part of. Yelena made things easier, even as you both navigated the unusual relationship between you.

The lack of desire did not stop you from subconsciously running into danger.

Explosions rocked the ground beneath your feet. Each step was calculated to prevent tripping or, worse, falling on your face. How many times had you asked them not to blow shit up? But oh, Bucky and Alexei loved it so much, how could they ever stay true to their word?

You grumbled and held your ears as another explosion went off to your right. They were going to make you deaf, and you were going to make them suffer for it. Slow healing for the rest of their fucking lives, mark your words.

Bunch of assholes, you thought.

They were talking over the comms that you also unfortunately had lodged firmly in your ear. Every comment, every snarky reply, every swear and groan and injury, both given and received. All the while, you remained silent. You weren’t dumb enough to clog their communications with your little internal dialogue you had going on.

“Civilian to your left,” Walker said. “Behind the fire hydrant.”

You looked to your left and sighed.

“The broken one?”

“Roger that.”

Of course it was.

Bullets whizzed past your ear, and you fell to the ground. Your sleeve caught in the small fire next to you. It burned, and you didn’t bother pulling yourself away until the bullets ceased. When you crawled forward, the water raining down from the broken hydrant put the fire out, and you were left with singed, aching skin.

The “civilian,” as Walker so politely called her, was nothing more than a teenager at best. Blood pooled underneath her, originating from what looked to be shrapnel stuck in her left leg. You pressed down around the wound until you felt what you were looking for.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, even though you were sure she couldn’t hear you.

You put your hands completely over the wound and pressed down. The girl groaned but didn’t wake up. Warmth flowed from your palms into the open skin. Energy leaked from you like an open faucet. Your eyes fluttered, but you remained focused. The wound slowly stitched itself back together, taking its sweet time before closing completely. Blood trickled from your nose.

It left a scar; it always did. You found that more people were okay with scars as long as they were still breathing. The girl moved, her head shaking back and forth across the rubble slowly. Good, it was working. You never should have doubted yourself.

“Come on,” you said as you slipped your hands underneath her arms and pulled. Her feet dragged across the ground. The muscles in your thighs pulled tight; perhaps you needed to take Yelena up on her offer of training.

Hidden behind a half-standing wall, you laid the girl back to the ground. It was out of sight, out of danger. Or so you thought. Bullets slammed into the other side of the wall, blasting dust into the air. It tickled your nose. You didn’t duck, staying upright and listening to the warfare going on around you.

Something exploded overhead. Debris rained down, clipping you in the shoulder. You shifted away out of reflex, but otherwise remained still. Across the street you saw Her. She held your gaze, drawing you closer until-

“-Move.”

Yelena slammed into you like a train, knocking you onto the ground. Her body covered yours; her weight pressing down on you was a comfort. Your face pressed into the rubble - unintentionally, of course - and you felt the tiny pinprick of splitting skin on your cheek.

“Do you want to die?” She asked harshly.

Her weight disappeared from your back, and you sat up. She was giving you the look that made your hands shake. Something within you started stitching itself back together, slowly. You looked over her shoulder, and Death looked back. She smiled.

“Listen to me,” Yelena said, shaking your shoulders roughly. It felt like your brain rattled in your skull. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“No,” you said quickly. Your eyes looked over her shoulder again. “I thought I saw-”

“-You didn’t,” she interrupted. “You didn’t see Her.”

You did. You saw her, the same way you saw her any other time on any other day. In the reflection of the tea kettle in your suite. In the always-empty booth at the cafe down the road. In the shimmer of the scalpel down in the medbay while you were patching everyone up. Sometimes even in the dark hallways when you couldn’t sleep and you were desperately trying to run yourself ragged in the hopes of blacking out.

Something screamed past your heads. Yelena pulled you down to the ground again. You met her eyes and immediately started crawling across the ground until you were both behind some sort of wall. As one, you both sat with your backs to the wall, breathing hard as it shook and rattled with each hit.

“Can you shoot?” Yelena asked.

“I’m a healer,” you pleaded, but she was already holding out a gun for you to take.

“But?”

She dropped the gun in your lap, and you fumbled it. You didn’t like it, it was a weapon. You didn’t remember ever taking the Hippocratic Oath, but Valentina’s records said you did. A gun went against everything you stood for. Now Yelena wanted you to use it? Against other people?!

You sighed. The gun was heavy in your hands, but you at least remembered how to hold it. Hopefully. You took three quick, ragged breaths before kneeling and turning around. Your finger squeezed around the trigger until you heard a *click* and you dropped back to the ground. You looked at Yelena.

“You missed.”

“What?” You cried.

“Every single shot.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ve never seen someone shoot that bad before.”

“I told you I was a healer.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Are you getting us out of here or not?”

“Hold on.”

You didn’t bother looking as Yelena stood up and started shooting. It would��ve been humiliating, and you couldn’t handle it. Even before that moment she had jumped at the chance to tease you over the smallest of things. Now she could add “horrible shot” to the list and you could never get that reputation back.

As Yelena continued to shoot and duck, you saw Death standing across from you, hand stretched in your direction. It would be simple to take it, to let her walk you back home. Her cold hand would be a comfort; one of the only things to not contribute to the burning pain in your skin from every touch. There would be a comfort in it, a feeling that nothing could compare to.

A scalding hand grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back to the ground.

“Suka,” Yelena growled.

A hole formed in your chest as you watched Death step backward, disappearing within the dust and chaos. You were alone.

“Why would you do that?” You asked. It took too long for you to realise what you had asked; your mouth snapped shut.

“If She wanted you so badly, She shouldn’t have let you go,” she answered harshly.

You just stared at her.

“She kept my sister,” Yelena said in a softer tone. “She doesn’t get to keep you too.”

You could have said something snarky. You should have. ‘I didn’t know you liked me that much.’ Maybe even ‘Tad possessive, are we?’ Nothing came out of your mouth, not when she couldn’t even look at you. She just looked where Death had been standing, almost as if she could see Her too. You knew she couldn’t; it was just as well.

Instead, you reached over and grabbed her hand, linking your fingers between hers. She flinched. You could feel every injury that littered her body, from the big gashes to the small bruises. With the slightest effort, you let your energy flow between your hands, healing everything along the way. Yelena looked at you in horror and tried to pull away. You held on tight.

Her entire body shivered when you were done; you didn’t think you had ever done a full body heal before. Warmth trickled from your nose and over your lips. It tasted coppery. You licked your lips clean - very coppery - and looked back at Yelena.

“That was weird,” she said simply.

“I… will ask first next time,” you answered.

She squeezed your hand once. You squeezed back three times. It was the closest you could be. For now.

Fifth, you will only remember how you died. Every waking moment is spent with the fear that you will return to Death at any moment. Each night as you slept, you dreamt of the moment you died. Each ounce of pain and fear filled your body and soul until you woke. The images would never leave. That is the only thing you remember. Not even your own name.

Not knowing anything about yourself was an unusual feeling. Sure, you made new memories, but you couldn’t recall a single moment of your life before you came back to the mortal plane. It was unsettling, and left you disoriented. Even hearing how the others had awful childhoods left you envious for something you would never relate to.

It never occured to you that some things were worth forgetting. Walker wanted to forget the death of his best friend. Ava and Yelena wished to forget their childhood trauma. Bucky wished to forget just near everything. And Alexei… well, you didn’t know what he wanted to forget, maybe it was nothing. He seemed to be in pretty chipper spirits most of the time.

You were reading through your file when Yelena stormed into your suite. She threw her keys against the wall, chipping the paint where it made contact. You frowned. It was impossible to colour match in the Tower, you were going to have an off-coloured spot for the rest of your tenure.

“Where were you?”

Your mouth snapped shut. What did she mean? You looked around your suite. The empty tea cups littered the kitchen, leaving tea rings on the counter and wooden end table. A half-eaten donut was on a paper towel in front of you, now probably stale.

“Here?” You questioned. Where else could you have been?

“We needed you and you weren’t there.” Yelena stepped closer, staying a few feet away from you.

“I wasn’t called,” you said with a small, humourless laugh. Yelena wasn’t smiling.

“People died,” she said, “and you didn’t save them.”

“I wasn’t called,” you reiterated, standing up slowly from your spot on the couch. “On top of that, I maybe could’ve saved one or two, not-” you gestured vaguely in front of you “-however many there were.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a miracle worker, Yelena.” You huffed and gave her an uncomfortable smile. She stared at you with hard, angry eyes.

“Then what good are you?” 

She spat the question like a curse. If the couch hadn’t already been pressing against the backs of your knees, you would’ve put some distance between you. Yelena had never questioned you before. Initially she had questioned the lengths of your ability, sure, but never you.

“I’m sorry?” You asked quietly.

She doubled down. “What kind of a healer are you if you can’t even keep people alive?”

“A normal one?” You paused, head tilted at her. “I’m not an endless source.”

“Then you need to do better.”

All the blood in your body seemed to freeze, leaving your skin feeling colder than usual. You hadn’t heard her right. She was angry, understandably so if the mission had gone wrong. Angry Yelena was a force to be reckoned with, but she was never overly cruel. Just honest.

“What did you say?”

“You need to do better.”

“I need to do better?” Your frozen blood flash boiled in your veins until the anger bubbled over. “How about you keep them alive instead of calling me all the time to clean up your mess?”

Yelena held your eyes as she ripped the gloves off her hands and threw them to the floor. They had resided on your floor a lot the past few weeks. Some small part of your brain dedicated itself to finding a proper spot for them later.

“Why?” She asked. “So you can run away from your responsibilities?”

“What responsibilities?” You asked incredulously, extending your arms to envelope the room. “In case you forgot, I was hired to fix your team.” She blinked. “Anyone else is on a first-come, first-served basis.”

“You’ve saved plenty,” she said, stepping forward to tap her finger against your temple. “Did this 'first-come, first-served’ belief come before or after you failed?”

Her finger burned a hole through your temple and deep into your brain, searching desperately for the memory that wasn’t there. Failure. Your failure. Holding the girl’s hand, listening to her scream and beg for help that wouldn’t come. Help that couldn’t even hear her under the rubble.

You shook your head and averted your gaze. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Yelena repeated. “Then what do you know?”

You shook your head again and looked at the folder sitting on the small table. It housed only a handful of papers, each giving you the most minute insight into what you couldn’t remember. Maybe you should have talked to her about this before.

“What do you know?” She asked. Her frown remained.

No answer came to your mind. Nothing. What did you know? Nothing. You knew nothing, remembered nothing, felt nothing. There was nothing to say, and every atom of your body screamed to run, to escape the torrent of questions. Your hands shook.

“Because it seems more and more like you don’t know anything.”

A dam burst deep within your chest.

“You want to know what I know?” You asked. She took half a step back. “You want to know what I-” you snatched the folder and threw it at her chest “-read it!” Her brows furrowed. “Everything I know is in this fucking folder!”

Yelena stood there with wide eyes.

“What?” You asked. “You don’t want to read it?” She looked at you with something you couldn’t understand; she didn’t make a move. “Here,” you said, forcing the papers into the folder and holding it up, “I’ll read it to you.”

It was childish on your part, you knew. You could understand that much. That didn’t mean you could stop yourself from flipping through the papers to find the beginning; a meager beginning that answered nothing.

“Born to two surgeons in redacted. Possesses the ability to heal physical injuries at the cost of her own energy and body function, discovered after redacted. Graduated salutatorian at redacted before attending redacted. Completed a residency at redacted before moving on to redacted. Was working at redacted during the redacted, where she was killed in a building collapse caused by redacted.”

You ignored the way the look in her eyes had your stomach turning. It wouldn’t fix anything, it didn’t matter, you were angry. Her lips were pressed tight, and she just looked at you. Always looking at you.

“Does that clear things up for you?” You asked. “Or would you like me to read it again?”

Your voice cracked on the last few words; it was humiliating. You opened your mouth to try and say something, anything that would distract her from your weakness. Yelena was quicker. The air was knocked out of your lungs as her arms wrapped too tightly around your shoulders. You didn’t have enough mobility to hug her back.

The rubble pressed tight against your chest. Each exhale gave it milliliters of space to press tighter, and it did. Every time. Every breath. You couldn’t move and if you could have afforded to lose the space, you would have screamed from desperation. Panic. The girl kept yanking your hand as she futilely tried to escape.

Yelena squeezed tighter, and the panic dissipated. Oh. It was just a hug. A safe hug. One that didn’t trap you but instead kept you grounded. She… could do that? You did your best to hug her back with the limited space you had available for movement.

She pulled away, her eyes locking with yours. You let yourself fall to the ground, pulling your knees up tight to your chest. Behind you, the couch remained a stable constant. Yelena hesitated, standing in the spot you had left her, before following your lead and kneeling down to sit beside you.

Her arm curled around your leg and rested on your ankle. She rubbed the scar.

“You don’t remember anything?” She asked quietly.

You shook your head. “I remember holding a little girl’s hand,” you said. “I remember giving her my literal life.” She struggled more as your eyes went out of focus. “I remember she didn’t even make it.”

Her fingers rubbed the skin harder; it burned.

“I’m sorry.”

The suite was silent. All the anger chomping at your heels had dissipated, leaving nothing but a hollow cove in the middle of your belly. But it wasn’t all bad. The hole was slowly filling itself up with the warmth from Yelena’s hand, and her head resting on  your shoulder. She was so close you could feel her steady, controlled breath against your knee.

“Tell me about your sister,” you said softly, pouring vulnerability into the very essence of the words.

Yelena’s fingers stopped rubbing your scar for a fraction of a second, but it quickly resumed its ministrations.

“You really want to know?”

You shrugged and rested your head on top of hers.

“My folder is awfully empty,” you said. “Plenty of space for some new memories.”

Almost instantly her voice started filling the empty space, telling tales of her sister from youth to adulthood. And you sat there, shivering underneath her warmth, drowning in every word she had to say. Yelena would make for some nice, new memories.

Sixth, all your emotions are borrowed from who you used to be. You will fake laughter and comfort, not for yourself, but for the sake of those who knew you. All except anger; that is yours. The anger is made up of all the pieces of Death that still cling to your soul. The anger is yours because Death has nowhere else to go.

Unlike most of your… teammates (you use the term lightly, they’re acquaintances at best), you’re more than capable of controlling your anger. You clamped your mouth shut and separated yourself until the feeling subsided. It always worked. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel it, but it worked.

Up till now, that was.

It shouldn’t have made you upset. You knew most of your triggers and this hadn’t been one of them. At least, not that you were aware of. It was unusual. Why did it make you so upset? There was nothing more pathetic than becoming irrationally angry when someone was just talking with you!

Your hands left sticky, dirty tracks down your face over and over again. Pacing wasn’t helping, and you had nothing to throw or bite on or distract yourself with. You were simply left alone, taking the stairs up to the top of the tower where no one but your thoughts could find you.

Or so you thought.

The pool was empty, as predicted. You stood at the edge of the deeper end, looking down into the water. Death was left laying at the bottom, looking up at you with that skeletal grin. All the anger bubbling up in your throat evaporated. With clothes on, you let yourself fall into the water.

In the water, everything was manageable. The pain across your skin eased and the emotions - or lack thereof - vanished. Weightless, you could just exist. No thoughts, no fears, no anger. Just you and the water that surrounded you, enveloping you in a consoling, suffocating embrace.

Your lungs burned from the strain of holding your breath. With how little time you could stay underwater, you were left to assume you were never much of a swimmer. Deduction was becoming your best friend, and if you hadn’t been in the water, it would’ve made you mad. Borderline furious.

A warm hand gripped your bicep and yanked. Death reached out to you in a final gesture; your fingers brushed Hers before you erupted from the water. You laid on the edge of the pool, nothing more than gasps and heavy clothes.

“I’m always dragging you out of things,” Yelena’s voice forced itself through the water in your ears. “It’s becoming a bad habit of yours.”

Your breath still came out in gasps and shallow pants. The water of the pool was almost entirely settled, leaving little evidence that you had even been swallowed by it in the first place. You craved it, and the absence left you, unsurprisingly, angry.

“I know Valentina was boring but I didn’t think she was that bad.” Yelena stopped and thought. “By Valentina standards.”

Valentina. Her. Your fingers dug uselessly into the concrete surrounding the pool, leaving no mark except the blood that welled from the freshly grated skin. She had said that… that word, and hadn’t felt the least bit of remorse. She hadn’t cared! The woman was shameless!

“What was the final straw?” Yelena asked, letting herself practically drop to the ground beside you.

She looked wonderful in the dress she was wearing. Nothing flashy or overly vulnerable, but classy. It suited her, truly. You always enjoyed seeing her in such clothing, it was a wonderful break from what she wore on missions. That alone always set you on edge; you knew what could happen on missions.

“She,” you huffed. “She- she said- she called me a- a mutant.”

Yelena remained silent. Her knee rubbed against yours lightly.

“I’m not- I’m not a- why would she say that?” Death looked at you through the water, but you turned to face Yelena. “In front of all those people?”

“Does it bother you that bad?” She asked. “Bob is a mutant, no?”

“Why would she say that about me?” You asked quickly. “I’m not Bob, I’m not some- some mutant.”

She was right to keep her mouth shut. You felt a certain way about Yelena, and you would’ve hated to yell at her. It had only happened a handful of times and that was enough for you to feel the ghost of guilt. You were still haunted by the evening you threw your file at her. Not your best moment.

“Which part are you upset about?” She asked. “That she said it, or that she said it in front of people?”

“Both,” you said without giving yourself time to think of the proper answer.

“So instead of talking it out like we’re all practicing,” Yelena heavily emphasised, “you decided to come up here and drown?”

“Yes.” You looked down at the water and pulled your knees up. “No.”

You weren’t a mutant, of that you were fairly sure. Or, you weren’t sure at all, but it didn’t feel proper. No one really knew what you were, and that was okay, but Valentina was out there spewing her unfounded beliefs for the media and populace to hear.

It was such a small thing in the grand scheme of things. The anger was still there, lingering underneath the surface of the water, waiting to erupt. But Yelena had a point; the entire time was learning to talk about their feelings instead of hiding them. You weren’t part of the New Avengers, but you were part of the team in some way.

“We can work on it later,” Yelena said.

You reached over and grabbed her hand, linking your fingers between hers. Death looked at you through the glassy water; you were content to let her wait. Maybe Yelena could help you get rid of Her anger once and for all. Maybe there was another feeling leftover from your past; something other than anger.

Seventh, your eyes will be wrong. You’re the only one to notice. The irises were the wrong colour, and your vision was perfected. Seeing through different realms did that to the human body. No one will understand what it’s like to look at a stranger in the mirror.

The mirrors were covered; every single one. You only kept the mirrors in the medical wing left untouched seeing as the others found it unusual to keep them covered. They enjoyed seeing the scars left behind after their mighty battles. Or at least, Alexei enjoyed it. Everyone else seemed to look out of morbid curiosity.

There was nothing morbidly curious about what you saw in those mirrors. It was horrifying; it wasn’t right. You passed mirrors on occasion, mostly when you were out with Yelena and Ava. Standing in club bathrooms, trying to steady yourself by gripping the sink, focusing on the person in the mirror that was supposed to be you.

If you had lost all your memories, you wish you wouldn’t have been stuck with the overwhelming feeling of Other. You weren’t sure who you had been before but this all felt wrong. The hands gripping the sink were connected to your body, but they didn’t grip properly; they were weak and soft. Your clothes fit weird and your face… it was wrong.

You found yourself in that same bathroom now; looking at yourself in the cracked mirror of some rundown club that you hadn’t bothered learning the name of. On the glass were lipstick drawings, numbers, and sweet sayings that were honestly rather inspiring. There was something comforting about the homeliness of it all. Maybe you should start doing the same in the tower.

A group of girls stumbled into the bathroom, looking far more put together than they had any right to be. They looked stunning and just the right amount of disheveled. Yelena could manage looking that way and still looking good. Clearly it was a skill that you needed to improve upon.

“The sink isn’t gonna run away, honey,” said the lone girl who didn’t go into one of the stalls.

You instantly let go of the sink and stood there awkwardly.

“What’s got you so bummed in the club?” She asked. Her eyes narrowed, almost as if she was focusing. You knew she wasn’t; you could see it in her eyes how incredibly drunk she was. “Wait, you’re her!”

At the sound of yelling, all the other girls rushed to finish what they were doing and burst out of the stalls. You stood there like an animal in a zoo as they crowded around you, talking amongst themselves so quickly it made your head spin. More than it already was; a few more drinks and you’d be able to match their buzz.

“You’re with that blondie hottie,” one of the girls said.

They gave you no time to answer.

“What are you hiding in here for?”

“If that hottie was mine, you’d have to pry me off her with a crowbar.”

“Listen to me,” the first girl said. She held your face gently between her noticeably sticky hands. “That Yelena girl has been raving about you all night.” Something tumbled around in your stomach. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to kiss her.”

“I don’t think-”

“-You’re gonna kiss her so sloppy and so heavy that you’re both gonna go home and have the most bangin’ night of your life.”

Baffled, you could do nothing but smile. All the girls mumbled their agreements that yes, that was exactly what you were going to do, trust us. And honestly? You did. Why not? You couldn’t remember if you had any experience with the phenomenon, but you weren’t dumb; you knew drunk girls in club bathrooms were the most trustworthy people in the universe.

“Go,” the ring leader said softly. “Rock her world.”

She gave you a gentle, sticky kiss on the forehead before letting go and following the rest of her posse out of the bathroom. Well. That happened. You turned back to the sink and looked in the mirror, taking note of the lipstick mark that now stained your skin.

Would the person looking back at you be bold enough to kiss Yelena? You didn’t know; you weren’t entirely sure the original you would have done it either. Perhaps you would have, and it would’ve been wonderful. For now? You didn’t know this person’s limits, and you weren’t convinced you would be able to test them.

You sighed. This was humiliating.

“There you are.”

There was no point in seeing who had come into the bathroom; you would know that voice anywhere. Yelena was quick to lock the door and sidle up next to you, meeting your eyes through the mirror. Did she see the you who used to exist? Or did she also see the differences, take note of the things that were Other?

“Who kissed your head?” She asked, pushing aside any belief that she was thinking deeper. Why would she? She was out at the club having the time of her drunken life.

“Some girls came in and gave me some,” you hesitated and exhaled harshly, “life advice.”

“Was it any good?”

“Don’t know,” you answered.

The girls’ words echoed in your head, and you quickly turned to face Yelena. Even if she was drunk, you wouldn’t have known. She was masterful at her craft, hiding any sort of weakness even on a typical girls’ night out. But you could see a softness in her eyes, and that was vulnerability enough.

“They said some things that got me thinking,” you said. She raised her brow for you to continue. “There are rumours about us.”

“I know,” she commented as quickly as you had finished. “I spread them.”

“You did?” You asked.

“Yup,” she said, popping the “p” loudly. “I needed to get your attention somehow.”

“Liar,” you said, bumping her with your hip. Where that move had come from, you had no clue. “You’ve always got my attention.”

“Then quit hiding in the bathroom and come dance,” Yelena said.

She reached out and grabbed your hand. It wasn’t the first time she had held it; you both reached for the other like a lifeline. But her hands were painfully hot, and you didn’t mind. You liked the pain if it was coming from her.

You looked back in the mirror one last time, taking note of the differences. The colour of your eyes was wrong and you weren’t too keen on the shape of your mouth. But looking at your reflection standing next to Yelena… you fit. A smile teased the edges of your mouth and you allowed Yelena to pull you out of the bathroom.

Perhaps coming back from the dead would open the way for some rather new adventures. And maybe rediscover how to feel along the way.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Biscuits and Gravy

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Buck x Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Notes: Lolololol just fell out with one of my best friends let’s see if I make it to the end of the month

“Hey… have you heard from Y/N yet today?”

Buck comes up the break area stairs, his phone in hand. He squints down at the device and taps the messages closed before opening it again.

“I don’t think my phone is working.”

Eddie looks up from his plate of pasta and unlocks his phone next to him.

“I was literally going to ask you the same thing, she hasn’t said a thing.”

“She always says good morning to us”

“Right! Like, always. First you say it and then I say it and then we send her a picture from work and she sends one of her in bed.”

“You guys do that every morning?” Chimney’s fork hovers over his salad.

“Yeah, it’s kinda our thing.” Buck gushes and plops down into the chair next to Eddie. “Should we call her?”

“Yeah… she doesn’t usually miss this.” He scoots his chair closer to Buck’s as the phone rings. They watch themselves on the screen and Eddie fixes that stupid hair that always falls in his face. Buck smirks and puts it back, he kisses his forehead and Eddie blushes.

“In front of my salad??” Chimney tosses his fork down, his appetite fully gone.

“Hello?”

The screen is black and that immediately sobers them a bit. It’s 11 am and you should already be out of bed… or at least sending them dirty pictures from it.

Buck inwardly cringes at how small your voice sounds, he feels his heart drop and Eddie puts his arm on the back of his chair.

“Hey Princess… We uh- we missed your text this morning. Maybe our phones aren’t working?”

“Oh”

It’s not an answer and that hits hard. Buck pulls the phone a little closer to them and his worry is painfully evident on his face. Eddie sits back in his chair, running a hand smoothly over Buck’s back.

“What’s up bunny? You workin' early or somethin’? It’s just us right here.”

Maybe you didn’t want to turn on the lights because you thought they were around everyone… they knew what you did for work and maybe you weren’t dressed appropriately.

“No. Just- hold on.”

They hear the blankets rustling and Buck looks at Eddie. The communication is silent but clear, today is not a good day for you. Eddie pulls up your latest video and starts scrolling through the comments, they’re pretty normal until he gets to a particular one.

His mood immediately sinks and he passes Buck the phone. The energy in the room changes so fast Hen hesitates at the top of the stairs. She looks at Chimney who is staring at them cautiously, their usually good moods gone.

Buck sends the comment to Athena and Tommy, if anyone can handle things for you it’s them.

The lights come on and you come into view. You’re sat against the plush headboard with a soft-looking sheer robe on. It’s one of your favorites and your “comfort” robe. Buck always calls it your “Newly widowed” robe.

“I must have overslept, I’m sorry,” you say quietly, avoiding looking at the camera. You’re usually quiet but this is a different kind of quiet and it’s unsettling.

“Is everything okay? Eddie’s voice has an edge to it and you finally look at them. Your lavender eyes lock on his and he can see the turmoil running through them. His hands flex and he has to cross his arms to keep some sort of control. You know he knows, and he knows you know he knows.

“I just need a distraction.”

Buck perks up when you say that, he might not have Eddie’s steel fortitude of moodiness but a distraction. Oh, he can do that, he can so do that.

“That’s something we can do for you” Buck chimes in “Call me from your iPad in 10 minutes okay? Can you do that for me bunny?” He keeps his tone soft and coaxing and you nod.

“10 minutes?”

“10 minutes.” He hangs up and takes Eddie’s hand, pulling him from the table and leading him downstairs.

“Where are we going? Shouldn’t we be on the phone with her?” Eddie follows already knowing this plan is about to be either the greatest thing they’ve done or the stupidest. He’s inclined to think it’s the latter when it comes to Buck…

“We need some privacy and a phone stand”

You’re not really sure what you expected when you call back but it’s not Buck and Eddie in the backseat of Eddie’s truck. Eddie looks just as confused as you do as he sits back against the seat with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Buck fiddle with the camera for a moment.

“Hey baby” Buck coos at the camera, the corner of your mouth quirks up and you give them a little wave.

“Hi… what are you doing?”

You’ve got your iPad on its stand in front of your bed and you’re watching the screen curiously while Buck finally sits back next to Eddie.

“Well, I just thought it might be nice for you to take the morning off you know? Maybe…do some watching of your own?”

Oh, now Eddie’s catching on. He reaches out, slowly stroking Buck’s thigh and a light blush creeps up his neck the further his hand inches upwards.

“A-are you about to do, what I think you’re gonna do?” You lean on your hands on the bed, getting closer to the screen with your legs in that W shape and Buck has to clear his throat. He always gets flustered when you approach with your guard down like that.

“U-uh huh,” He confirms and Eddie reaches over, taking his chin and making him turn to face him.

“Were you gonna fill me in at any point that this is what you wanted to do?” He chuckles, but flicks his eyes down to his pants and Bucks hands fly to his belt.

“I thought you’d totally chicken out!” He fumbles with the buckle for a second and Eddie lifts his hips just enough to pull them down to his thighs.

“You so would have chickened out” you mumble, watching the screen intently and Eddie scoffs.

“Not if it were for you, Princess.”

Buck tugs Eddie’s boxers down enough to let his cock fall out. It bounces up hard as a rock, and curves away from his torso and you’re both already drooling.

The mesmerizing spell is broken by the sound of your doorbell ringing and you freeze up and stare at the bedroom door.

“It’s okay, I sent you something” Buck reassures you “Just have them leave it at the door and then go get it”

You do as he says, watching the door camera for a minute before telling them you’ll be back. Eddie reaches out and helps Buck unbutton his shirt slowly.

“What’d you get her?”

“We got her-“

“You guys!!” You squeal and come racing back into the bedroom. You jump on the bed and rip into the first box and Eddie watches you.

“He’s perfect!!”

You pull a strawberry highland cow from the box and squeeze it to your chest before falling back in bed and laughing like an idiot.

It’s their favorite laugh, the one when you sound like a freaking gremlin and your legs are kicking and it reminds them of why they love you and all the little things you do… even when you’re now choking on your own spit and flailing around like you’re dying.

“Can you please get to the reason why I have my dick out?” Eddie gestures to his body exasperatedly and Buck looks back at him.

“Oh my god I-“

“I totally-“

“If either of you are about to tell me you forgot. I’m literally putting my pants back on and getting out of this truck.”

“I was gonna say you have a nice dick” Buck rolls his eyes and you nod along

“Very nice!!”

“Just open the other damn package” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and you giggle and grab it. Buck angles the camera a little better between him and Eddie while your mouth drops. You pull two massive dildos from the box. They both have little bows at the base and you set them on the bed with a loud snort.

“Well?” Buck grins widely and sits back on the seat for a minute to watch you.

Your hands fly to your cheeks and you shake your head trying to keep in your giggles.

“Are those what I think they are?”

“I thought we were gonna give her those for our anniversary?” Eddie mumbles and Buck finally freaking reaches over and starts stroking him slowly. He leans forward and kisses the tip and Eddie hisses and threads his fingers through his hair.

“Awww the poor baby’s getting cold… and anyway I thought maybe you’d enjoy a little cheer-up gift…we can think of something else for our anniversary”

“I don’t know” You sound a little distracted and when Eddie looks at the camera you’re mimicking Buck with his cock. “I don’t think you guys can top these.”

“I’m pretty sure I know how to make a vibrating set” Buck hums and kisses down his shaft swirling his tongue as he goes and Eddie melts into the seat with a soft groan.

A- Are we really doing this? Fuck- In the parking l-lot?”

“I don’t see why not… we’ve learned from experience that this area is pretty protected. And our sweet bunny is just so upset.”

“She doesn’t look very upset to me” Eddie reaches over and manhandles Buck into his lap. His hands flow over his body, feeling the hard plains of muscles and every dip and curve. His breath hitches with the roll of Buck’s hips, grinding down against him.

He finally reaches his belt, undoing it and working his pants down over his hips. You giggle, watching Buck awkwardly flail around to kick them off and then sit back down in Eddie’s lap.

“You wanna do this together?” You purr and Buck can’t help the flush down his neck and nods.

“That was the idea… yeah. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh, I’m up for it” You bolt off the bed and look around for a minute, finding an old textbook and wiping it down. You toss it down on the bed and climb back on, carefully sticking the suction cup base down to it.

Buck snickers and gets on his knees, hovering over Eddie’s cock. He toys with him, reaching back and stroking his cock a couple of times.

“So proud of you, putting that college education to good use” He taunts and leans forward to dig through the center console. You lay on your bed, circling your clit teasingly to get wet while Buck produces a bottle of lube and hands it back to Eddie. You hear the delightful pop of it opening and a shudder goes through your body.

You reach back into the bedside table and produce your own little bottle of fake cum, the one that always drives them crazy when you send photos of your glistening cunt coated in it. You stare into Buck’s eyes, drizzling it over your puffy folds and recapping it.

“Looks good enough to eat” Buck purrs and moves to the side a little and Eddie moans and lets his head fall back.

“You two are gonna be the death of me I swear.” He grabs Buck’s hips, gripping them tight and looks at you.

“Think you’re wet enough princess?”

Buck pours lube on his fingers and slides them between his cheeks, coating his hole and moaning softly.

“You tell me…” You pull your fingers away, the sticky tendrils shimmer in the light of the sun coming through your window and Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Jesus fucking-“ He lines himself up with Buck, pushing in painfully slow and you follow with him. He wants nothing more than to use him, pounding into his tight ass and taking out all his sexual frustrations that the two of you caused, but he takes his time, torturing the both of you.

“You stay with him” Eddie pants, “and if either of you cum before I tell you I’m going to make you pay for it. You understand me?”

“Y-yes sir” Buck whines and you mimic the same noise, finally settling on his cock as Buck does.

“Yes sir” You whimper and hold onto the sheets in front of you, letting your head fall forward.

“Ah ah- keep your eyes on us baby girl” Eddie demands, his tone dropping a couple of octaves. Your eyes snap up and your hips sync up with Buck.

You both moan as Eddie works you on his cock, taking what he wants from the two of you together. He sets a brutal pace immediately, completely done with all the teasing. Buck grips the front seats, gasping and letting his head fall forward just like yours

“Fuck both of you are horrible at listening” He wraps his hand around Buck’s neck, squeezing lightly and yanking him back against his chest. You giggle deliriously and lean back, bracing your hands on the bed and rolling your hips on his cock.

Eddie moans and buries his face in Buck’s shoulder. He can smell your body wash clinging to his skin after this morning’s shower in your bathroom. His tongue darts out, licking the light sheen of sweat on his body and growling at the taste.

You’re mesmerized by Buck’s cock bouncing in time with your tits. Each rough thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel Eddie’s fingerprints bruising into your skin, the little crescent shapes of his nails digging into your sides so deep they’re almost drawing blood.

“Touch yourself” He growls in your ears, nibbling the shell. “Wanna see you playing with that pretty pussy”

Buck wraps his hand around his cock, following you rubbing your fingers over your clit in fast little circles. Eddie reaches around and massages his balls, slapping them and Buck yelps. He stares at you in the camera and you whimper before slapping your clit.

“That wasn’t hard enough…” Eddie sighs and does it again to Buck who jerks in his lap and you slap your clit harder, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

He swats Buck’s hand away, taking his cock and stroking it himself now. Buck whines and bounces on Eddie faster and you speed up with him.

“You ready? You wanna show our pretty girl what it looks like when you cum all over yourself? You know how much she likes that”

“Y-yes sir” Buck whimpers “Please sir, please let me cum for her, please”

God, he was so deliciously good at begging. Eddie’s hips stutter and he pumps faster, shaking the car and making Buck bounce harder.

“Cum for me, fuck- cum on my cock now”

Thick, hot, ropes of cum spurt over Buck’s chest and he cums with a high-pitched moan. He rides Eddie, milking him and moaning your name like a prayer. You cum with him, his cock exploding inside you and coating your walls in his spend.

Your body trembles and you can barely keep yourself upright, bouncing on his cock slowly and keeping in time with his lazy thrusts. Buck falls over to the side of the seat, panting harshly and you fall onto the bed.

“I’m so proud of you two” Eddie coos, running his hand over Bucks thigh and he rolls over and opens his arms. Eddie rolls his eyes and brings the phone with him and you all cuddle together.

“How are you feeling?” Buck mumbles at you and you smile sleepily.

“Really really good…”

They stay with you until you fall asleep and Bobby is about to murder them for taking as long as they are but how could they not? Besides it’s not like much has been going on lately anyway.

Eddie lays his head on Buck’s chest and sighs softly, letting his eyes close slowly. It’s quiet in the car, listening to your soft even breaths.

“So we need to go to Target after work.”

Buck breaks the silence with a whisper and Eddie lifts his head, blinking at him lazily. He rests his cheek on his chest.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise, for both of you.”

Eddie opens the door to your shared apartment and Buck limps into the entryway. You perk up from the couch and get up immediately. You float over to them, your robe flowing behind you and take his stuff, putting it on the hooks next to the door.

“What happened?? Are you okay??” You panic, put an arm around him and place your hand on his chest. He wraps you in a big bear hug and squeezes tightly.

“Shhh baby I’m fine! I’m totally fine nothing happened! This is uh- this is from earlier” He blushes deeply and you look back at Eddie who snickers and helps you help Buck over to the couch.

“Oh, you poor baby!” You coo and set him up on the couch with a fluffy blanket. “Is there anything I can do??”

“See about that-“

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter and flops down on the other couch. “Tell her.”

“Tell me what?” You eye him suspiciously and he clasps his hands together.

“So… there is something you can do for me. Just a lil something to uhhh cheer me up? My hips are just you know, so tired…”

“Okay…” you drag out warily and cross your arms over your chest.

“C-can I watch Eddie eat you out on the coffee table? I can’t stop thinking about the way your pussy looked earlier, covered in cum”

“Awww Buck” You giggle “Of course we can-“

“With this?” He holds up a little tub of marshmallow fluff and your jaw drops. Eddie snickers and gets up, taking the fluff from him and setting it on the coffee table. He pushes the rest of the things on it aside, letting it all fall to the floor with a loud clatter and holding your hips.

“You know better than to agree to do something for Buck before he tells you the entire story…” He backs you up until you bump into the coffee table and you squeak.

“Now I have to make an even bigger mess on our pretty girl.” He slips your robe over your shoulders and places soft, lingering kisses on them. His hands slide lazily up your back and unclip your bra, his grin wolfish as your tits bounce out.

He leans down, capturing your perky nipple between his lips and sucks gently. He lets your bra fall to the floor and cups your other breast, kneading it in time with his desperate hunger.

“W-wait can-“ You let your head flop to the side to motion to your bra but Buck is already picking it up and laying it neatly on the couch like he knows you want.

“We know they’re expensive”

“Maybe we should put up that video of us together last week” Eddie mumbles into your honeyed skin. “That’ll pay for more bras than you can wear in a year”

“Which one?” Buck watches with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His eyes trail over your soft curves, adoring your full hips before reaching your eyes with a bright smile.

“The one when she was pegging you into me”

Eddie drops your panties and lets go of your nipple with a wet pop! He gently guides you to lay out on the table like a mouth-watering feast and nods at the white tub. You reach up and take it, eyeing it before handing it over to him and he rewards you with a kiss to your open thighs.

He can smell the arousal slipping down your folds, eager to clean up the little puddle that he knows is going to form.

“You ready Princess?” He purrs between your legs and you nod breathlessly. Buck takes a pillow from the couch and props your head up so you have a perfect view.

Eddie looks over the tub of marshmallow fluff, opening it and dipping his fingers inside. He pulls out a generous amount, coating his fingers and grins wickedly.

Slowly, teasingly, he trails his fingers up your inner thigh first, leaving a path of marshmallow fluff in their wake. He leans down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers

“I want you to watch me, baby. I want to see those pretty eyes on me as I taste you”

He brings his coated fingers to your pussy, spreading the marshmallow fluff over your folds, making sure every inch of you is covered in the sweet, sticky substance.

It feels weird, like really weird but it also feels really really good and that’s what surprises you most. He paints it messily between your folds and now you’re sticky in more ways than one and shuddering because fuck it feels good.

“Yeah, you like that? Of course you do you dirty little thing…” He sucks and kisses along your thigh, cleaning up the white streaky mess and then sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt.

“J-Jesus Eddie!” You shriek and he laughs against your thigh and plunges his fingers into you deeper.

“What’s wrong Princess? You’ve never heard of a creamy center?”

Buck ugly laughs and falls over on his side, wheezing and cackling until it’s cut short by Eddie crashing his mouth to your slick pussy and devouring you. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he eats you, running his tongue desperately through your folds and sucking the cream from your clit.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging him further between your legs and Buck adjusts himself on the couch and pulls his boxers down just enough to slip his cock out. Your eyes glaze over as it stands at attention and Eddie nips your clit and you squeak.

“Eyes on me gorgeous”

Eddie moans softly against your pussy as he licks and sucks the marshmallow fluff from your folds, the sweet taste mixing deliciously with your arousal. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, watching your every reaction intently.

He can feel your body trembling beneath him, and it only spurs him on, urging him to continue his assault. He traces the shape of your slit with the tip of his tongue, lapping up every last bit of the sticky substance.

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice is so wrecked and it gets his attention right away. His eyes flick over to him, following his hand going up and down his leaking cock.

“Hmm?” He hums against your pussy and the vibrations make you jolt under him.

“I-I wanna see you inside her” He mutters breathlessly “Put it on your cock… and fuck her”

“Well, it’s your fantasy” Eddie pulls away from you, his lips covered in your arousal and the marshmallow fluff. You and Buck both giggle and he rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth with a towel, but stares you down whilst licking his fingers clean.

He tosses the tub at Buck and stands up, unbuckling his pants and letting his cock free. He strokes it a couple of times, spreading the precum down his shaft and tapping Buck’s cheek with his tip.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

“Dear god yes” He rasps and strokes Eddie’s cock for a second before taking some of the fluff out and spreading it over him. He jerks him off for a bit, kissing the tip and licking at the cream and Eddie groans.

He pushes Buck’s hand away for a minute and instead holds his head, scrunching his hair in his fingers before guiding his lips around his cock. He lets out a low moan and works his mouth around his cock. He holds his head lovingly and thrusts his hips slowly, torturously, just enjoying the sounds of his gorgeous boy gaging around his thick shaft.

“That’s my good boy, fuck that’s my sweet baby” He praises, his hips stuttering before picking up speed. He steps forward and almost straddles Buck’s chest and continues to fuck his mouth. He likes the way his eyes roll back and he melts into Eddie, trying his best to remember to breathe through his nose.

Your jaw drops yet again, watching them go at it. Eddie’s ass flexes in front of you and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to spread the fluff over him and eat him out too.

You squirm on the table and catch Buck’s, who melts all over again and drools around his cock.

Eddie leans forward, feeling Buck’s nose brush the soft curls around the base of his cock he thrusts harder, cumming down his throat and moaning soft praises. Buck chokes around it, swallowing every drop until Eddie finally pulls away, leaving Buck gasping and coughing, cum spilling from his lips.

Eddie falls onto the couch next to Buck, panting and dropping his head onto his shoulder. They both look at you, your eyes are huge and you’re practically drooling.

“I think I finally get it” Eddie pants, resting his arm over his eyes and Buck looks up at him.

“Get what?”

“I totally forgot she was there”

“See!!! It’s really easy!”

“Hey!!”

Both of them snicker at your expense and you cross your arms over your chest and pout. You turn your head to ignore them like a brat and let your mind wander instead.

How does Buck come up with this shit? How did he look at a tub of marshmallow fluff and go “I could see her eaten like that”??

You’re still reeling from being left to whimper when Buck finally gets up from the couch.

“Hey, Eddie? How strong is this coffee table?” He bites his lip, looking over your downright delectable body and licks his lips.

“It was a gift from a friend, John. He built it himself so it’s pretty sturdy… Why?”

“Enough to hold two people on it?” Buck leans over and takes the tub and scoops some out with his fingers just like Eddie had and strokes his cock with it.

“O-oh god” you whimper, already becoming sensitive again and he smirks, pulling his boxers all the way down, kicking them away and preparing to shove his cock down your throat.

“Because it’s my turn.”

[grain-of-sando]

i don't believe this (i'm in love again!)

cm punk x reader

You don't watch wrestling. You don't know why you even agreed to go to this wrestling show. However, you DO know that whoever the cutie that's in the ring right now seems to be looking directly at you.

OR

CM Punk sees you in the crowd and falls in love.

WORD COUNT: 3007 TAGS: gender neutral reader, meet-cute, ecw/roh punk, punk is in luvvvv TITLE INSPO: hit by the sugarcubes

(cross-posted to ao3, read here !!)

You don’t really watch wrestling. Like, at all.

On a Saturday night, you normally would be staying inside and watching a crappy movie while barely awake, but instead, you’re sitting inside of a venue watching a match all because your friend begged you to go with her. She promised she’d pay for a meal afterwards, and it’s not like you have anything to do, so you begrudgingly went.

Despite your hesitance, you were having a good time watching, even though you didn’t have a clue what was happening. Maybe the Ancient Greeks were onto something with Gladiators, because every single move that happened in the ring made the whole crowd erupt like animals.

As you asked something to your friend about how much longer this is gonna be on for, the entrance music of a new wrestler suddenly filled the room, making some of the more dedicated wrestling fans start cheering. You looked around to see who was entering until you saw him.

Oh my god, he’s cute.

While you watched this wrestler you had no clue about sauntering out into the ring, you shamelessly ogled at him. He came out in a black zip-up jacket with a white stripe across the chest, along with some red shorts and some generic black boots. As he combed his taped-up hands through his bleached hair, you could make out a piercing on his lip with the silvery metal glimmering from the light upstage. Despite his more alternative look, his face looked full of energy, which says a lot considering you weren’t sitting close to him in the slightest.

Not to mention he had a great build… You probably had no chance, but it doesn’t hurt to stare.

“Who is that?” you yelled while leaning over to your friend. The room was so loud that your yell was equivalent to a whisper. Your friend looked over at you and shouted back, “CM Punk!”

You were about to ask her what the hell CM meant, but as you were glancing back at this CM Punk guy, you noticed it felt like he was looking at you.

Okay, don’t be delusional.

You blinked a couple of times to make sure you weren’t being crazy, but the more you looked at him, the more it felt like he was truly staring at you. You gave a smile in case he truly was looking, and maybe you’re truly insane, but you could’ve sworn he smiled back.

-

“Okay, okay, maybe you were right,” you started, walking out of the arena with your friend. “Wrestling is fun to watch. I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Now I am!” your friend replied, snickering. You were about to ask her where she parked, but suddenly your friend stopped walking and said, “Oh, shoot, would you mind if I run to the bathroom really quickly before we go?”

“Go do your thing, I’ll wait here,” you assured, waving her off. She gave you a little “I’ll be quick” before she scurried back into the arena, leaving you standing in the cold outside. The parking lot was full of people shuffling into their cars and talking amongst themselves about the different matches.

As you looked around and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, you heard a voice behind you.

“Uhm, hi, hey,” the voice started. You turned around, shocked when you realized the voice was CM Punk. He looked tired and less… well, half naked, with him sporting a grey shirt under his jacket and some regular blue jeans.

Was he really looking at you during the match after all?

“I, um.. I saw you in the audience,” CM Punk started, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke. “I knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn’t try and talk to you.”

He seemed to be nervous, but his eyes remained fixed on you, which gave you the opportunity to admire their hazel-green color. God, he looked even cuter when face-to-face with you. You must’ve been a saint in a past life because karma had to be the only reason he would even notice you.

As you guys exchanged your hellos and formalities, he asked, “Do you, umm… have any plans right now?” You might’ve accidentally given him a funny look at his question, because he immediately started to backtrack and say, “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a creep, I just… would you maybe wanna go grab a bite with me?”

You were about to say yes in a heartbeat before you remembered your friend. Crap, she was your ride home…

“Um.. I’d love to, can I just call my friend super quickly?” you say, trying to smoothly pull your phone out from your pocket. CM Punk nodded and said, “Sure, sure, take your time.” If you didn’t end up going out to eat with him, at least you know he’s nice.

You stepped away and quickly sped through your contacts to find your friend, silently pleading for her to pick up for every ring. The second you heard her voice, you immediately started speaking.

“Hey, sorry this is sudden, but you know that CM Punk guy that just wrestled, like, 20 minutes ago?” you said quietly, trying to seem casual about how excited you are over this.

Your friend said on the other line, “Uhm, yeah, duh, what about him?”

You paused. “Okay, so… He may have just asked me out.”

“…Lying is a sin, you know that, righ-”

“I’m not lying!” you argue. “He just asked me if I wanna go get food with him, but I didn’t want to abandon you since that’s kind of a crappy move-”

“If you’re telling the truth and he seriously just asked you out, I’d be pissed if you didn’t go!” your friend interrupted you. “Go get that man!” You gave a sigh of relief and said, “Okay, okay, see you tomorrow then!”

With that, you hung up and turned back to CM Punk. “Well, where to?”

“I know there’s a diner nearby,” he said, seeming way more relieved at you officially accepting his offer. “My car’s somewhere in this area, except I can't see shit in the dark…” He muttered that last part, but you still caught it and giggled at his annoyance.

The two of you walked around the parking lot until he pointed to a grey car in the distance, picking up his pace. When the two of you reached the car, he quickly unlocked the car and hopped into the driver’s seat while you opened the passenger side door. His car wasn’t anything fancy, and honestly, the inside was pretty cluttered, but you didn’t care in the slightest. He could’ve had Fred Flintstone’s car, and you would still be gushing.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said, picking up some of the random receipts and junk lying on the passenger seat.

“Don’t worry, my car’s not any better,” you assured knowing damn well you clean your car regularly, sitting down and closing the car door. He grabbed the steering wheel, tapping on it with his fingers before saying, “Um… I don’t do this often. I don’t, y’know, normally ask out people after matches.”

He looked over at you. “..and I wasn’t even expecting you to not reject me from the get-go. You’re really gorgeous. Out of my league by a mile,” he said earnestly, gazing at you in a way that made you know he wasn’t just trying to flatter you.

You gave him a bashful smile and said, “You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit.” You couldn’t see his face very clearly in the dark, but you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks turn ever-so-slightly redder.

Punk turned his key on the ignition and started slowly pulling out of the parking space, scanning around for the exit in the dark lot.

-

You and Punk arrived at a small diner near the area that seemed to be aiming for a 50s vibe, but then again, all diners have that “sort-of-vintage-sort-of-given-up” decor. He pulled into the parking lot and rummaged through his center console until he pulled a beat-up leather wallet.

Taking the key out of the ignition, he turned to look at you again and said, “Okay, ready to go?” You nodded and opened the door, moving over to his side and walking into the diner together.

After sitting down and ordering your meals from the waitress, you turned your attention back to your date. In the diner’s artificial light, you could see him way clearer compared to in the dark outside. His eyes looked more visibly tired, probably because he just got pummelled by a grown man not even an hour ago. As he shrugged off his jacket, you noticed his tattoos more clearly. Sure, you saw he was tattooed when he was out in the ring, but it’s hard to pick up detail when you aren’t face-to-face with the guy. As his hand pulled on the sleeves of his jacket while taking it off, you noticed the tattoo on his hand that said ‘NO GIMMICKS NEEDED’, not to mention his knuckle tattoos that spelled out ‘DRUG FREE’… You barely had a conversation with him so far, but his tattoos seemed to tell a story in themselves.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Punk jokes, grinning at your obvious staring. You yanked your gaze back to his eyes, slightly embarrassed, saying, “Sorry! I just – I really like your tattoos.” “Oh? Thank you,” Punk looked down at his arms as if he forgot he had ink on him. “You got any yourself?”

You shook your head. “I wish. I just don’t have any good ideas for what I’d wanna put on my body, like, permanently.” As you spoke, you aimlessly admired the heart tattoo he had near the inside of his arm. “Trust me, if I had a good idea, it’d be on me already.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” Punk lifted the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing to reveal his large Pepsi tattoo resting atop his shoulder. “I don’t have the most meaningful tattoos ever.” As he let go of his sleeve, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to you. “I think you’d look great both with and without tattoos, though.”

Just as you were about to compliment him back, the waiter came strolling over with your guys' drinks and plates of food. After taking a bite from your surprisingly good burger, you looked back up at Punk, who must have been starving after his match because a good third of his burger had already been scarfed down.

“So, how’s it like being a wrestler?” you asked, making him perk up. “Sorry, that’s probably a lame question,” you backtracked, taking a sip of whatever soda you ordered. Punk shook his head and replied, “No, no, it’s not lame, wrestling’s… a very weird career, to say the least.”

“Weird?”

“Well, for starters, I get paid to get beat up and beat up other guys,” Punk jokes, making you stifle a laugh. “It’s definitely fun, though. Not for everybody, but I’m not everybody,” Punk quipped while stuffing his face with the fries he ordered.

“Do you only do wrestling?” you followed up. “Like, for work, I mean.” Punk nodded, swallowing before continuing, “I used to work at a comic book store, but once my wrestling career took off, I just stuck to this.”

“That’s enough about me, though… what do you do for work?” Punk asked, sipping his drink. You still feel like you don’t know nearly enough about this guy, but if he’s asking you questions, who are you to not like the attention?

“I’m in school right now,” you say, “I’m getting my bachelor’s, but I work as a receptionist part-time.” You pause, trying to get through your words without seeming like such a bore. “It is not as cool as wrestling, that’s for sure.”

Punk chuckled at your own self-deprecation before adding, “–way less injuries, though.”

“If injuries are your dealbreaker, I think you might be in the wrong line of work,” you jokingly counter.

Punk laughed at that, sipping his drink before saying, “You think?”

“Wait, wait, wait.. now I need to ask,” you start, “What is the worst injury you’ve ever gotten?”

Punk thought to himself for a moment – okay, if he’s thinking, then at least he didn’t get something crazy – before answering, “I once fractured my skull.”

Wow, nevermind.

“Okay, I was gonna explain, you can pick up your jaw,” Punk chastised, smiling at your shock. “It was… I wanna say it was near the beginning of my career. I tried to do a neckbreaker move, and I thought I broke my neck while the match was going on, which, y’know, that’s still–” Punk furrowed his brow and winced, “– but whatever. Anyways, once the match was over, it felt like the biggest challenge just walking from the ring to backstage.”

“Other than that… maybe a broken nose,” Punk finished, acting like he just told you a mildly infuriating anecdote, meanwhile you were still trying to envision how the hell a fractured skull probably feels like. You shook your head and commented, “I don’t know if I’ve ever even gotten, like, a fraction of that level of pain.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out,” Punk noted, stuffing his face with some of his fries.

The two of you talked casually about your guys’ lives and interests as you ate – or, in the case of Punk, inhaled – your meals. When the waiter came back to ask about dessert, Punk raised an eyebrow at you as if to silently ask if you were still hungry, but it was getting late, and you unfortunately had work the next morning. Once Punk – who insisted on paying for your food despite you telling him you were definitely capable enough to pay for your own $8 meal – covered the bill, the two of you walked back out into the cold and into his car.

While Punk turned the car on and adjusted the heating, you looked over at him. A nearby light pole was casting a halo around his silhouette, making him look otherworldly despite his unassuming look. The light against his jet-black hair made him look like a solar eclipse you can’t seem to look away from.

“What?” Punk asked you, noticing you staring. “Do I got somethin’ on me?” He brought his hands up to half-hazardly wipe whatever he assumed was the reason for your gawking. Instead, you just shook your head and said, “You just look really good right now.”

“You know, it’s unfair how nervous you make me,” Punk teased while starting his attempt to pull out of the parking lot.

As Punk merged onto the nearby road, he glanced over at you and asked, “Where do I turn?”

“Keep going down this road,” you signaled, all while digging in your pocket for your phone. All your most recent messages have been your friend begging for details on your date, so you sent a quick ‘on my way home’ text to hopefully satisfy at least her craving for how long the date was.

As Punk drove, the two of you mostly sat in silence, only broken up by your directions. The lack of conversation wasn’t awkward; if anything, it felt comforting being able to sit in each other's presence without feeling an obligation to keep speaking. As the two of you reached closer and closer to your house, you told him to make a turn at the Circle K nearby.

“Just drop me off here,” you said, pointing to the convenience store’s neon sign. Punk turned into the lot, but he furrowed his brow and asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I wanted to pick up a few things anyway.” Punk parked at the front of the lot before proceeding to rummage through the center console of his car for a pen and an old receipt for CVS.

“I have another show here tomorrow,” he started, flipping the receipt over to the back while scrawling something on it, “but in case you can’t make it…”

After he finished writing, he held out the receipt with his phone number on the back. “Give me a call sometime. I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

You grabbed the receipt from his hands, giving him a bashful smile. “I enjoyed it too.”

You held the receipt, but your hand didn’t move away from his. Instead, the two of you just held onto it while staring at each other. He had a soft expression, but the fiery glint he always seemed to have in his eyes made you feel like you were all he was focused on right now. You noticed his eyes seemed to be bouncing from your eyes to your lips.

“Can.. can I ki–”

You cut him off by answering his question before he could even get all the words out, closing the distance between you two with a soft kiss. His lips felt soft against yours, and although you could’ve stayed in his car and kissed him senseless for eternity, your body was aching to go back home as fast as possible.

You pulled away and looked at his astonished expression. His hazel eyes looked so blown out you would’ve assumed they were black if you didn’t know their true tone, slightly widened just looking at you like you’re an angel descended from the heavens. You tried not to giggle at his expression, instead moving some of the stray hairs out of his face before grabbing the receipt.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you say. Punk nodded, seemingly still starstruck and saying “yeah, yeah” while you opened the door and stepped out. You waved goodbye at him before closing the door and scurried over to the front of the Circle K. You watched him reverse out of the lot and drive off as the wind blew against you.

You just met him, but somehow it felt like you’ve been wanting to know him your whole life.

(let me know if you enjoyed reading!!! im new to posting on tumblr so lord knows i need all the interaction i can get LOL)

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! maybe logan getting worried/protective over u after u get injured during a mission? 🥺🩷

Canon level (based on the comic books mostly) wounds and violence (it’s nothing too gory besides the wound description)

“Move out of my fucking way Scott,” you hear him before you see him which isn’t really a good sign.

You’d gone on a mission the same time he was out on one too, and though it had just been a simple recon mission, things got heated quick.

Zeitgeist was a bitch like usual, and you weren’t as fast as you might’ve been had there not been a falling child to save.

So now, your entire right side is rippled under the acid of his spit and you can’t deny the agony you’re in.

“She’s fine,” Scott says but you know your boyfriend.

He pushes past him and is at your side almost instantly. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to him being so close but when they settle on his face, the clear panic and worry is clear to see.

“I’m fine, Lo.” You say, teeth gritted through each word as Charles asses the wound.

You’re no longer in your suit, just in a pair of pants and a sports bra, your hair is drenched and Logan can only guess they just hosed you down to get rid of the majority of the acid.

It still burns like a bitch and you can’t hide that from the man who knows you so well.

“Bullshit,” he grumbles, hands brushing back the hair from your face. “Can’t you all do something instead of just fucking staring at it?”

The question is packed with worry that none of them are accustomed to seeing on Logan, but you swear you see Ororo smirk.

She’d been the only one to notice his soft underbelly- well beside you.

“We’re waiting for Hank to bring the antidote Logan,” you say gently, stroking his tense forearm. “I’m fine baby.”

It’s the ‘baby’ that softens him, that gets him to take a deep breath and press his forehead into yours.

“Fucking scared me,” he murmurs and the others all find themselves busy- besides Scott, he wants something to tease the man about as per the rules of their friendship. “Don’t do that shit again.” His hands are on your neck, thumbs under your chin so you can’t look away.

“I didn’t really have a choice, I had to save the kid.” He nods, pressing his lips to your temple. Hank saves him from blowing up again when you wince and the green acid bubbles a little more.

“Fucking finally, what took you so long?” He grunts, Hank only shaking his head as he pours the blue liquid over your wound.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand itching to press against your side or slap Hank’s hands away but Logan stops you.

“Fucking say something next time, yeah big guy?” He growls but then you hiss again and he’s all focused on you again.

“You’re good, you’re okay bub.” It’s whispered straight into your hairline and if you were a little more cognizant you’d notice that Logan can’t stop glaring at the wound.

“We caught it in time, the antidote won’t reverse the burn completely, but it will be soothing it and fixing the majority of it.” Hank pulls on gloves, the snap of it on his wrist filling the room. “There’s a salve you need to put on it for the healing process.”

“Thanks Hank,” you whisper, much too tired for much else. “Can I go now?” Logan notices then how utterly exhausted you look and sets aside his anger and worry for a moment to dote on you.

“Yes, but Logan monitor the wound and how it heals over the next few weeks. The skin should be back to normal when the salve is done.” The professor says and Logan nods dutifully before picking you up off the med and taking the salve from Hank.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He takes you back to your room and is smearing the salve on your side. “You’re not doing that shit again, I swear to whatever there is.”

You give him a small smile, “Getting hurt is part of it Logan, I can’t avoid that completely.”

He frowns and then presses a kiss right above your wounded side. “You don’t get how scary it is to hear, ‘she’s in the infirmary, an acid wound’, I nearly ripped Bobby in half.”

You stretch a hand to bury in his hair. “I know baby, but this was just a one time thing. Zeitgeist isn’t exactly unscathed either.”

Logan smiles, his lips pressing into your unblemished skin again. “Fire burns Logan, what can I say.”

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” You giggle a little, more so when he holds your cheeks and stamps a kiss to your lips. “Get some shut eye, m’gonna get one of the kids to make you soup.”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Things Simon Loves About You

Warnings: Fluff <3, Cosy Headcanons, Simon Being a Hypothetical Animal Crossing Enthusiast, Jealous! Simon :3, Simon Being the Best Boyfriend, Spoilers for Simon’s Backstory, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

He’s secretly enamoured with the way you’ll gently pluck a fallen eyelash from his face and tell him to make a wish on it. The first time it happened, you had to explain to him what this odd ritual meant, what it entailed. You shushed him before he tried to make his wish out loud, telling him with haste that it won’t come true if he told you what it was. When he blew the eyelash from your fingertip, all he could do was look at you and think: ‘but it already came true’.

Though it initially worried him, he loves that you go to sleep late — especially when he finds you zonked out on the sofa, TV on, remnants of your midnight snack escapade scattered across the coffee table. It means he has an excuse to pick you up and bring you to bed, holding you close to him all the while. Most nights, he just stares at you, watching you, wondering how he got so lucky to even have someone exist in the same house with, never mind you.

Nobody likes arguments — especially Simon. Having grown up in an abusive household, they were commonplace in some form or another. But, when he argues with you, he knows that it can easily be fixed. Especially if it’s over something minimal like laundry or cleaning — it gives him the excuse to seek you out and utilise his ultimate love languages: gift-giving and physical touch. Sure, he’ll give you a quiet, verbal apology, too, but his efforts shine through in the way he opens himself up to you, pulling you into a warm hug and not letting you go for as long as you’ll let him.

He loves the nicknames you give him: especially the funny ones. You’ve called him Semen Demon before now — completely unprompted. He couldn’t help but give a deep chuckle, saying “What are you like,” before turning back to what he was doing. This worked a competition between the two of you to see who could create the most cursed nickname for the other.

It’s still going on ‘til this day.

He lives for the inside jokes the two of you have, like a dialect only you know. It makes him feel like he’s truly part of something… normal. Sure, he has the 141, by they are bound in the blood of their profession, not by the sanctity of love. Not the kind of love you two have. He loves it even more when everyone else looks confused when you mark a reference onto you two understand; it makes him feel like you’re talking to him and only him. For the first time, he feels like someone sees him.

He loves when you listen to his music suggestions. It makes him feel like his opinion matters — like what he says matters.

He loves the music you listen to, too. Not even because he likes the songs themselves, but because he knows, somewhere between their instruments and vocals, you have found enjoyment, like a coveted treasure. And that's what brings him enjoyment when listening to them.

Simon’s always been a light sleeper. A trick he learned in childhood. So when you prod him awake to spill your thoughts to him, he’s immediately all ears. And he loves everything you say, no matter how banal or nonsensical. Even when you tell him your worries, his heart swells with the fact that you trust him enough with your perils. That you think, even for a second, that maybe he can fix them.

And he would. Before time can catch him, he’ll do whatever it takes to ease your worries, to destroy them.

He loves that he gets to show you off to the 141 — like a child with an arts and crafts project. He’s a secretive man, but he won’t hesitate to make light of the fact that his partner is absolutely stunning, intelligent, hilarious, loyal, understanding—

You see where this is going.

He even loves how jealous they all look when they see you wearing one of his shirts in all your unfiltered glory, wishing them a good night while you bid Simon his own – a special one. A kiss. Just on the forehead. But a kiss all the same.

He’s dazed for the rest of the evening, trying to hurry his friends uut the door so he can come to bed and see you.

Lazy morning cuddles !!!!!

He’s recently gotten into video games because of you, too.

Secretly a big fan of Animal Crossing. He absolutely would have been one of those people to try and buy Raymond from anyone willing to sell him back in 2020 .

Likes any games that are life simulators. Simple ones — free of life’s stresses.

Loves Harvest Moon. And the Sims (Sims 2 is his favourite).

Although, when he found out you can romance other characters, he felt a bit bad because he felt like it would be cheating on you. Until he found out that you were already leading many a double life on those same games. The moment he found out you’d been romancing a collection of pixels and shapes, he picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and dragged you to the bedroom to “Teach you a lesson.”

All in all, domestic life with you is better than anything Simon could have hoped for. So long as you’re with him, he’s living a life he’s only ever dreamt of. And so help the person who tries to wake him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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